an equal chance. Will you call them off if I give you that?"

"But you can't, my dear," said Torrington gently.

"And even if you could, you mustn't," snapped Cassis.

"Mustn't!" There was something magnificent in her scorn. "Why I'd
wreck the whole crowd of you for one sight of him. Here you----" and
she swung round on Ezra Hipps. "Write this down."

"Bluff," said he.

"D'you think I'd let the man I love carry a secret I didn't share?
Write this down."

It was Van Diest who stepped forward with "I take her word. Go on."

"Brewster's Series 19," cried Isabel. "Map 24."

Instantly a condition of chaos ruled. Cassis cried to her to stop "for
Heaven's sake." Someone else exclaimed "That European." "It covers
the northern area of----" and "Go on. Go on." Hipps was shouting. To
concentrate in the midst of such a din was almost impossible. She
covered her cars, closed her eyes, to force memory of the words and the
numerals that were to follow. "Square F. North 27. West 33."

"She's there," cried Hipps, and whipped out a pistol to cover Cassis
who was making for the telephone.

"No you don't. Stand away." He picked up the instrument and gave a
number. "That Phillips? Clear all roads."

It was all that Isabel wanted to hear, just those three words which
meant one man's safety at the possible price of a mighty fortune. It
meant nothing to her that the American was calling for "My man with a
suitcase at Charing Cross straight away. I hit this trail myself."
She was not even conscious of a medley of voices in the street below--a
series of cries and shouts--the blast of a police whistle. All this
was without meaning. Consciousness was slipping away and had almost
deserted her when the door was flung open and Anthony Barraclough burst
into the room. He stood an instant, chest out and with eyes feverishly
bright.

"Sorry I'm late, gentlemen, but I've done the trick--this packet----"
he rocked a little. "By Gad, I believe I'm going to faint." He
tottered forward into Isabel's arms and said--"It's you--how ripping!"
That was all.

Cassis pushed forward with the words:

"Has he got it--has he got it?"

"This is what you want, I suppose," said Isabel, and taking the letter
case from his pocket, threw it on the table. "He's fainted. Help me
get him to his bed."

Doran and she half carried and half dragged him from the room.

No one was aware of Auriole, who had entered just behind and st