his light was switched off and he disappeared.

A second later, however, Jean turned the handle of the door, entered the
room, and again switched on the light.

The place became flooded with electricity, and she stood a pale, erect
figure, staring at the clock, which was just chiming the hour of
midnight.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE CLOSED BOX.

Hardly had the sound of the silvery bells died away when a second figure
scaled the balcony, and, seeing the light over the top of the curtain,
as arranged, he placed his hand upon the long glass door and slowly
opened it.

He drew aside the curtain slightly to ascertain if Jean were there
awaiting him, and, seeing her, he entered boldly.

Ralph was dressed just as he had been in the morning, only he wore
yellow lisle-thread gloves, so as to conceal his finger-prints, which,
alas! were too well known to the police.

Husband and wife faced each other, in ignorance that an intruder stood
concealed behind that curtain within two or three feet of them.

The intruder had fixed his eyes upon Jean, and stood staring at her as
though fascinated by her amazing beauty.

"At last, Ralph!" she gasped. "I--I thought perhaps you would not
come--that you would think the risk too great."

"Bah! What risk?" he asked. "Even if I were discovered, Bracondale could
easily be satisfied that we are husband and wife."

She shrank back at those words.

"The child saw you with me this morning and told her father."

"Awkward. What did you say?"

"I made an excuse. One which, I hope, satisfied him."

"Trust you, Jean, for a good excuse," he laughed brutally.

Then, with a glance at the jewel-case on the table, he added: "But if I
were you I'd be very wary. I suppose I did wrong in meeting you openly
as I did. I ought to have been more circumspect. But, my girl, we need
not have necessity to meet again, need we?"

"I hope not--for my sake," was her reply, as she turned her pale face to
his.

"If you play the game, I shall also do the same. So you needn't fear.
Only I must have an address where to write to you."

"No," she protested. "You must not write. It will be far too dangerous.
And, besides, you made me a promise that if I gave you those," and she
glanced at the table, "you would give me back my letter, and go away,
never to see me again."

He regarded her in silence for a few moments, a sinister smile playing
about his mobile lips. But he made no reply.

"Ah, Ralph," sh