ng so low, almost whispering, so that I could catch only a few
words."

"What did you hear?" I inquired breathlessly.

"Well, from what I could gather the gentleman was in some grave
danger--something to do with a girl. Mistress seemed very excited and
talked about another girl, which she called Freda, or something like
that, and then the gentleman mentioned somebody named Royle, whereon
mistress seemed to fly into a passion. I heard her say distinctly, 'You
are a fool, Digby! If you're not very careful you'll give the game away.'
Then he said, 'If the truth comes out, she will suffer, not me.'"

"Whom did you infer he meant by she?" I asked.

"Ah, sir, that's impossible to say," was her response. "Well, they were
alone there for hours. He seemed to be begging her to tell him something,
but she steadily refused. And every time he mentioned the name of Royle
she became angry and excited. Once I heard her say, 'As long as you keep
carefully out of the way, you need not fear anything. Nobody--not even
the girl--suspects the truth. So I don't see that you need have the
slightest apprehension. But mind, you're going to play the straight game
with me, Digby, or, by heaven! it will be the worse for you!'"

"Then she threatened him?" I remarked.

"Yes. She seemed very determined and spoke in a low, hard voice. Of
course, I could only catch a few disjointed words, and out of them I
tried to make sense. But I overheard sufficient to know that the visitor
was in a state of great agitation and fear."

"Did he go out much?"

"All the time he was here I never knew him to go further than the
garden," said the maid, who seemed to be unusually intelligent.

"What about Ali?"

"Ali was his constant companion. When they were together they spoke in
some foreign language."

A sudden thought flashed across my mind.

Could Ali be a Peruvian Indian and not a Hindu? Was he the accomplice of
the mysterious Englishman named Cane--the man suspected of causing the
death of Sir Digby Kemsley?

What this girl was revealing was certainly amazing.

"You are quite sure that this man she called Digby left the neighbourhood
last Sunday?" I asked her.

"Quite. I overheard him speaking with the mistress late on Saturday
night. He said, 'By this time to-morrow I shall be back in Brussels.' And
I know he went there, for next day I posted a letter to Brussels."

"To him?" I cried. "What was the address?"

"The name was Bryant, and it was a