s happened."

While they awaited the return of the chamber-maid, the party of
rescuers gazed curiously at the prostrate figure on the bed. They saw
a small, slight, neatly built man, attired in evening dress, whose
sallow face was in harmony with a shock of black hair. A large and
somewhat vicious mouth was partly concealed by a heavy black mustache,
and the long-fingered, nervous hands were sure tokens of the artistic
temperament. There could be no manner of doubt that this hapless
individual was Jean de Courtois. He looked exactly what he was, a
French musician, while initials on his boxes, and a number of letters
on the dressing-table, all testified to his identity.

Curtis, Devar, and the hotel clerk seemed to be more interested in the
appearance of the half-insensible de Courtois than Steingall. He gave
him one penetrating glance, and would have known the man again after
ten years had they been parted that instant; but, if he favored the
Frenchman with scant attention, he made no scruples about examining the
documents on the table, though his first care was to thank the workman,
and send him from the room.

"Now," he muttered to the others in a low tone, "leave the questioning
to me, and mention no names."

He picked up a Marconigram lying among the letters, and read it.
Without a word, but smiling slightly, he handed it unobtrusively to
Curtis. It bore that day's date, and the decoded time of delivery was
4 P.M.

"Arriving to-night," it ran. "Coming direct Fifty-Ninth Street.
Expect us there about eight-thirty."

Curtis smiled, too. He grasped the detective's unspoken thought.
Steingall had as good as said that the message bore out Curtis's
counter charge against Count Vassilan and the Earl of Valletort of
conspiring with de Courtois himself to defeat Lady Hermione's marriage
project. Indeed, before replacing the slip of paper on the table, the
detective produced a note-book, and entered therein particulars which
would secure proof of the Marconigram's origin if necessary.

The maid hurried in with the milk, and Steingall, why had covered more
ground among the Frenchman's correspondence than the others gave him
credit for, now acted as nurse. With some difficulty he succeeded in
persuading the stricken man on the bed to relax his firmly closed jaws
and endeavor to swallow the fluid. It was a tedious business, but
progress became more rapid when de Courtois realized that he was in the
hands of t