it, I concluded, and having gone so far, there was every reason to
suppose he would triumph if I--who alone of all men seemed personally
interested--did not set myself to the finding of a new method for
blocking his game.

I could, I thought, understand what his motive for so foul a murder
might have been. He had just purchased a valuable gold mine from
Farnham. Should Farnham be made to vanish without fear of suspicion
falling upon Wildred, the latter might not only be the owner of the
mine, but repossess himself of the purchase-money, which must have
comprised a very large sum.

There was no further hope from the police. They had done their duty, had
satisfied themselves on every point, and it would have been unjust to
expect that they should continue to exert themselves in favouring my
apparently wild view of the situation.

In the midst of the cogitations which followed upon the receipt of the
inspector's letter another cablegram was handed in to me. This time it
purported to be from Farnham himself, merely saying, "Many thanks for
kind enquiries. Have turned up here smiling, but too seedy to write at
present. Glad to hear from you.--Fifth Avenue Hotel."

One more blow aimed at my theory! But I refused to be knocked down by
it. For Karine's sake, for my own sake, I would follow my convictions
across the sea, and never rest until I had settled all doubts for
myself.

It was then Friday. In five minutes after reading this third and
apparently conclusive cablegram I had resolved that on the following
day, Saturday, I would sail for New York.

It was only by a severe mental wrench that I arrived at this almost
desperate decision, for I stood between two fires, either one of which
might reduce my hopes to ashes.

Going to America meant leaving Karine Cunningham, at this critical
juncture, to the mercy of the enemy. I had offered her friendship, and
such protection as I could give, against those who were bent on forcing
her inclinations; and with a look in her sweet eyes, and a soft quiver
in her voice which I could never forget, she had asked me "not to go
away." If I went, and any harm should come to her during my absence, I
could never forgive myself, never again know a moment's peace of mind.
And yet--if I stayed, what was there to hope for either of us? I had
shot all my arrows, and they had glanced off, blunted, from Wildred's
apparently invulnerable armour. I had lost the chance of gaining
assistance fro