oney to the investigation of
mysteries of crime.

In one of the bare bedrooms upstairs Fetherston had, in examining one of
the well made hand-presses set up there, found beside it a number of
one-pound Treasury notes. In curiosity he took one up, and found it to be
in an unfinished state. It was printed in green, without the brown
colouring. Yet it was perfect as regards the paper and printing--even to
its black serial number.

Next second the truth flashed upon him. The whole apparatus, presses and
everything, had been set up there to print the war paper currency of
Great Britain!

In the room adjoining he had seen bundles of slips of similar paper, all
neatly packed in elastic bands, and waiting the final process of
colouring and toning. One bundle had only the Houses of Parliament
printed; the other side was blank. He saw in a flash that the placing in
circulation of such a huge quantity of Treasury notes, amounting to
hundreds of thousands of pounds, must seriously damage the credit of the
nation.

For a few seconds he held an unfinished note in his hand examining it,
and deciding that the imitation was most perfect. It deceived him and
would undoubtedly deceive any bank-teller.

In those rooms it was plain that various processes had been conducted,
from the manipulation of the watermark, by a remarkably ingenious
process, right down to the finished one-pound note, so well done that not
even an expert could detect the forgery. There were many French
one-hundred-franc notes as well.

The whole situation was truly astounding. Again the thought hammered
home: such a quantity of paper in circulation must affect the national
finances of Britain. And at the head of the band who were printing and
circulating those spurious notes was the mysterious medical man who
carried on his practice in Pimlico!

The scene within the sparsely furnished house containing those telltale
presses was indeed a weird one.

Somebody had found a cheap paraffin lamp and lit it in the sitting-room,
where they were all assembled, the front door having been closed.

It was apparent that Pietro was no stranger to the doctor and his fair
companion, but both men were highly resentful that they had been so
entrapped.

"Doctor Weirmarsh," exclaimed Fetherston seriously, as he stood before
him, "I have just examined this house and have ascertained what it
contains."

"You've told him!" cried the man, turning fiercely upon Enid. "You have
b