withheld from the cognizance of the lady who had just quitted them.
"It was delivered by a messenger boy shortly before you arrived, Theydon," said Forbes, when his passion had subsided and he could trust his voice again.
"Have you informed Scotland Yard?" said Theydon.
"No. I dared not use the telephone. I could not leave my wife. She is far more shaken than she thinks. Ever since her return she has followed me if I even walked across the room. It was pitiful. I had to lie to her when the butler brought this infernal note. She saw it was typed, and believed my explanation that it was a mere record of an office cablegram."
"Give it to me," said Theydon. "Mr. Handyside and I must leave you now. We'll take it to Scotland Yard. Mr. Winter ought to know of it. In all likelihood he is arranging to remain in the Croydon house tonight, and, if Wong Li Fu is telling the truth, which is highly probable, the local police can watch the place adequately."
"Yes. You're right, of course. I should have seen that an hour ago, but my brain is on fire owing to the torture these fiends have devised."
"Are you quite safe here? It is an absurd question, but I would like to feel assured on that point. Shall I return, and strengthen your guard?"
"I'm exceedingly obliged to you, but, in addition to two of my servants, thoroughly trustworthy men, a detective sergeant and constable have come from Scotland Yard. They are now having supper. When the household retires for the night two will remain in this room, with the door open, and two in the butler's room, which commands the other staircase. Moreover a constable will patrol this side of the square, and a second one the back of the premises, until long after daybreak."
"Tell you what," said Handyside, when he and Theydon were in a taxi, and had made certain they were not being followed, "tell you what, son, you've struck a bonanza in this Chinese drama."
"What do you mean?" said Theydon.
"Well, I guess you're the curly-haired boy where Miss Evelyn is concerned."
"Like most Americans, you jump at conclusions," was the ungracious reply.
"And, like most Americans, I'm right nearly all the time," said Handyside dryly.
"Surely one can hardly discuss such a matter."
"Why not? If a proposition sounds hard, chew on it, and may be you'll get your teeth into it somehow."
Theydon nearly allowed himself to become angry. Was his hopeless admiration for Evelyn Forbes so patent that a sharp-eyed stranger could discern it after a brief hour in their company?
"Millionaires' daughters marry poor men only in novels and on the stage," he said bitterly. "In real life, and in England, they take unto themselves titles and landed estates."
"I guess Wong Li Fu will have to round you up some more," was the cryptic answer, and Handyside forthwith plunged airily into some wholly different topic.
At Scotland Yard they inquired for Furneaux, and were told he had not reported at headquarters since the early afternoon. So Theydon was introduced to another representative of the department, and handed over the typed note; the detective promised that its purport should be telephoned to Croydon without delay.
When the two reached the Embankment again, Theydon felt unaccountably tired, and was minded to take leave of his companion then and there. But Handyside placed an unerring finger on the cause of his weariness.
"Say, Mr. Theydon," he cried, "I don't know what food product arrangements you've made all day, but I couldn't have eaten less since breakfast if Wong Li Fu was sitting over me with a pistol. How about a square meal? Come to my hotel, and I'll start the chef on a nice little menoo while we're having a wash and a brush up."
"By Jove! Now I know what is the matter with me," was the astonishing answer. "I have lunched and dined on a cup of tea at Eastbourne."
"Guess I'm fifteen years older than you, so I knew my trouble all the time. Those people in Fortescue Square were so rattled that they never thought of asking us to eat. Come right along. It's only a step."
"I'll come with pleasure. I owe you some money, too, which I was nearly forgetting."
"What do you owe for?"
"Railway tickets, and taxis, and motor-cycles, to begin with."
"No, sir," said the American decisively. "I've had the cheapest day's amusement I've ever dreamed of. On balance I owe you one sovereign. As for those half-tickets from Eastbourne I wouldn't sell them for dollars and cents. When I get back to my home, 21,097 Park Avenue, Chicago, I'll have those bits of cardboard framed, and when some particular friend asks the reason I'll tell him, suppressing names of course, and he'll go away thinking that George T. Handyside is the biggest liar in the State of Illinois, which is some pumpkin, you bet."
"What beats me," rejoined Theydon, "is how you remember where you live. You must have a marvelous head for figures."
So they dined well, and wined moderately, and Theydon walked to Innesmore Mansions, thinking of little else in the world except of the moment when he held Evelyn Forbes in his arms, almost in an embrace, and he had dared, nearly, if not quite, to kiss her.
As he drew near Innesmore Mansions, however, he kept his wits about him. One of the most remarkable features of a series of remarkable crimes was the thorough command of the resources of civilization exhibited by the Young Manchus. A few days earlier he would not have dared to introduce into a story of his own an association composed exclusively of Chinamen which adapted to its needs the motor car, the messenger boy, perhaps the telephone and telegraph, to say nothing of the advertising columns of the daily press.
It was monstrous to imagine that a number of Orientals—marked men, every one, no matter what disguises they might adopt—should dare bid defiance to the forces of the British Constitution in order that they might wreak vengeance on those more enlightened compatriots who wished to see their country rescued from the effete control of a puppet Emperor.
But Theydon was now some days older and many degrees wiser. He knew that the wildly improbable had become dogged fact, that Chinese fanaticism, tigerish in its crafty and utter cold-bloodedness, was setting at naught not only the ordinances of the law, but the brightest intellects whose duty it was to make that law respected.
It behooved him, therefore, to lend a sharp eye to his own safety, and never a vehicle or pedestrian came near while he traversed the quiet streets in the neighborhood of Innesmore Mansions that he did not give the closest attention to cab or wayfarer, as the case might be.
As it happened, that quarter of London was singularly deserted. The first flight of people homeward-bound from the theaters was well over; the later contingent, supping in restaurants, had not begun to arrive. Save for the slow-moving figure of a policeman the long front of the mansions themselves was devoid of life.
Nevertheless, it was with a feeling of relief that he turned the key in the lock of No. 18, and heard the scraping of a chair on the kitchen floor as Bates rose to meet him.
"Hello, Bates!" he cried wearily, "here I am again, you see! Anything new or interesting during my absence?"
"Mrs. Paxton—" began the valet, stopping when his master uttered a sharp exclamation. Theydon had completely forgotten Miss Beale and his sister.
"Yes," he said. "Sorry I interrupted you. What of Mrs. Paxton?"
"I saw her, sir, as you ordered, and she promised to call on Miss Beale. She kem here about an hour ago—"
"Who? My sister?"
"Yes, sir. She was anxious to see you. From what I could gather, sir, the two ladies had bin puttin' their heads together, and agreed that this Chinese business has a nasty look, an' you'd better keep out of it."
"What Chinese business, Bates?"
"Well, sir, Miss Beale will 'ave it that Mrs. Lester was killed by a Chinaman, an' one of the police on duty in this district told me a little while ago that he saw no less than three Chinamen prowlin' round here last Monday between