gone
away to resume the disguise of wig and beard. While he pondered thus the
Count reappeared, carrying a small bottle in his hand.

"Mr. Denzil," said he, with a ghastly smile, "I have played a bold game,
and, thanks to a woman's treachery, I have lost. I hoped to get twenty
thousand pounds and a charming wife; but I have gained nothing but
poverty and a chance of imprisonment; but I am of noble birth, and I
will not survive my dishonour. You wish to know who Wrent is--you shall
never know."

He raised the bottle to his lips before Lucian, motionless with horror,
could rush forward, and the next moment Count Ercole Ferruci was lying
dead on the floor.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN

That afternoon London was ringing with the news of Ferruci's suicide;
but no paper could give any reason for the rash act. This inability was
due to the police, who, anxious to capture those concerned in the
conspiracy to obtain the assurance money of the Sirius Company, kept
everything they could out of the papers, lest Lydia and Wrent should be
put on their guard, and so escape.

Lucian had been forced to report the death of Ferruci to the
authorities. Now the case was out of his hands again, and in those of
Link, who blamed the young barrister severely for not having brought him
into the matter before. The detective was always more prone to blame
than to praise.

"But what could I do?" cried Lucian angrily. "You threw up the case
twice! You said the assassin of Clear--or, as you thought, Vrain--would
never be discovered!"

"I did my best, and failed," retorted Link, who did not like his
position. "You have had better luck and have succeeded."

"My luck has been sheer hard work, Link. I was not so faint-hearted as
you, to draw back at the first check."

"Well, well, the whole truth hasn't been discovered yet, Mr. Denzil. As
you have found out this conspiracy, I may learn who the assassin is."

"We know that already. The assassin is Wrent."

"You have yet to prove that."

"I?" said Lucian, with disdain. "I prove nothing. I wash my hands of the
whole affair. You are a detective; let me see what you will make of a
case which has baffled you twice!" and Denzil, with rage in his heart,
went off, laughing at the discomfiture of Link.

At that moment the detective hated his successful rival with his whole
heart.

Lucian took a hansom to the Royal John Hotel in Kensington, where Diana,
in a great state of