y the day previous arrived in Havre, and was
awaiting a steamer to America, turned upon his heel and, chancing to
meet a postman face to face, pointed out the car and asked in French
whose it was.

The veteran, for he wore his medal, glanced at the car and replied:

"Ah! That is the automobile of the English lord. That is the Countess of
Bracondale, his wife."

"Do they live here?"

"At the Villa Monplaisir, m'sieur, out on the road to Fecamp."

"Are they rich?" he asked unconcernedly.

"Oh, yes; Lord Bracondale is the English Minister for Foreign Affairs."

"Bracondale!" echoed the stranger, recognising the name for the first
time. "And that is his wife?"

"Yes."

"And the child?"

"His daughter."

"Is Lady Bracondale often here, in Havre?" he inquired eagerly.

"Not often. Perhaps once a week in the season. She comes shopping,"
replied the grizzled old man, hitching up his box containing his
letters.

"Look here, my friend," exclaimed the stranger. "Tell me something more
about that lady." And he slipped a two-franc piece into the man's hand.

"Ah! I fear I know but little--only what people say, m'sieur."

"What do they say?"

"That Madame the Countess, who is French, is a most devoted wife,
although she is such a great lady--one of the greatest ladies in
England, I believe. I have heard that they have half-a-dozen houses, and
are enormously wealthy."

"Rich--eh?" remarked the inquirer, and his keen, dark eyes sparkled.
"You know nothing more?"

"No, m'sieur. But I daresay there are people out at St. Addresse who
know much more than I do."

"_Bien. Bon jour_," said the stranger, and he passed on, eager to make
other and more diligent inquiries.

And the stranger, whose name was "Silas P. Hoggan, of San Diego, Cal.,"
was the same man who had watched the Earl of Bracondale depart in his
car, and who now descended to the beach, following in the footsteps of
the Countess.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE BLOW.

With easy, leisurely gait, the man in the grey hat strode along the
sands towards the rocks behind which the Countess and the governess had
disappeared.

Upon his mobile lips played an evil, triumphant smile, in his keen eyes
a sharp, sinister look as he went forward, his hands thrust carelessly
into his jacket pocket.

His eyes were set searchingly upon the grey rocks before him, when
suddenly he saw in the distance Miss Oliver and little Enid walking
together. Therefore he knew that