om opened it in the hall. When he came back into the room, his
hand was shaking and his face looked drawn and pale. But he showed no
further disposition to go out. Instead, he sank into a chair, with a
motion of dismissal to the two detectives.

"Question the boy who brought this," said he. "It is from Mrs. Ransom;
written, as you see, at the St. Denis. She bids me farewell for a time,
but does not favor me with any explanations. She cannot do differently,
she says, and asks me to trust her and wait. Not very encouraging to
sleep on; but it's something. She has not entirely forsaken me."

Gerridge with a shrug turned sharply towards the door. "I take it that
you wouldn't object to knowing all the messenger can tell you?"

"No, no. Question him. Find out whether she gave this to him with her own
hand."

Gerridge obeyed this injunction, but was told in reply that the note had
been given him to deliver by a clerk in the hotel lobby. He could tell
nothing about the lady.

This was unsatisfactory enough; but the man who had influenced her to
this step had been placed under surveillance. To-morrow they would
question him; the mystery was not without a promise of solution. So
Gerridge felt; but not Mr. Ransom; for at the end of the lines whose
purport he had just communicated to the detective were these few,
significant words:

"Make no move to find me. If you love me well enough to wait in silence
for developments, happiness may yet be ours."

CHAPTER IV

MR. RANSOM WAITS

Gerridge rose early, primed, as he said to himself, for business. But to
his great disappointment he found Mr. Ransom in a frame of mind which
precluded action. Indeed, that gentleman looked greatly changed. He not
only gave evidence of a sleepless night but showed none of the spirit of
the previous evening, and hesitated quite painfully when Gerridge asked
him if he did not intend to go ahead with the interview they had promised
themselves.

"That's as it may be," was the hesitating reply. "I hardly think that I
shall visit the man you mean this morning. He interests me and I hope
that none of his movements will escape you. But I'm not ready to talk to
him. I prefer to wait a little; to give my wife a chance. I should feel
better, and have less to forget."

"Just as you say," returned the detective stiffly. "He's under our thumb
at present, I can't tell when he may wriggle out."

"Not while your eye's on him. And your eye won't leave