Dorothy looked more worn and anxious than on that morning when I had walked with her in Westbourne Grove. But the air of mystery enveloped her still, and to even the casual observer her face was interesting as that of a woman with some tragic history.

“Miss Drummond,” I said, “it is a real pleasure to me that we meet again.”

She started at the mention of her name, but made no comment, except to say, in her sweet, well-modulated voice:?—

“The pleasure is mutual, I assure you, Dr. Pickering.” Then she asked: “How did you know I was staying in this neighbourhood?”

I explained how I had seen her emerge from the farmhouse and gather the flowers, and what old Ben Knutton had told me of her youth.

“I had no idea that you knew this district,” I added.

“Yes,” she responded, looking around her, “I’ve known it all my life. Every house, every field, every tree is familiar to me, for here I spent my happiest days,” and a slight sigh escaped her as her memory ran back.

We were walking together slowly along a path beside the winding Welland. She knew the way, and had led me through a gate and across a small strip of pasture down to the river. We were safer from observation there than upon the open highway, she said.

After we had been chatting some time she suddenly grew serious, and said:?—

“Do you know, Doctor Pickering, why I’ve come to you to-night?”

“No, but I hoped it was to resume our pleasant companionship,” I said.

“It was to warn you.”

“Of what?”

“Of your enemies.”

“You mean those men Bennett and Purvis,” I said, hoping to learn something from her. “Purvis is your uncle, is he not?”

She glanced at me quickly, and responded in the affirmative.

“Tell me, Miss Drummond,” I urged, “are you aware of the reason I am staying here?”

“I know it all,” she replied, in a strained voice. “I am well aware that you are searching for the hidden gold, which you cannot find. I am aware, too, that you hold the key to the plan, and that by aid of that key the place of concealment could be at once ascertained.”

“Mr. Purvis bought the plan from old Knutton,” I remarked.

“Yes; the drunken old idiot sold it, even though it had been in possession of his family for centuries. The treasure would be partly his if it could be discovered.”

“But does Mr. Purvis know anything definite regarding the place where it is hidden?”

“He believes it to be in the Manor House, and for that reason they have reopened the old subway from the Glebe to the Manor. He has with him the man Bennett, said to be one of the worst characters outside the walls of a gaol.”

“I know; they call him Black Bennett,” I said.

“Beware of them,” she urged. “They will hesitate at nothing to possess themselves of the treasure. They would kill you.”

The recollection of what Reilly had witnessed in London flashed through my mind. It was on the tip of my tongue to mention it, yet I feared to do so, not knowing what effect it might have upon her highly strung temperament.

“What Knutton has told me regarding your romantic life has aroused my interest, Miss Drummond,” I said presently. “Did you never know your parents?”

“Alas! no. They died when I was quite young. All I know about them is that they lived somewhere in Norfolk, and that my father was ruined by speculation just before his death. I was fourteen when the good woman who brought me up died, and my Aunt Lewis sent me to school. Then on her death, quite recently, Mr. Purvis became my guardian.”

“But who and what is this man Purvis?” I asked. “I know you are unhappy. Confide in me everything. I give you my bond of secrecy,” I said earnestly.

“I knew nothing of his existence until a few weeks ago, when Aunt Lewis died and Mr. Purvis came forward and promised to look after me. I had taken up typewriting and obtained a clerkship in a City office, which I held until I resigned a fortnight ago to come down here.”

“At Purvis’s suggestion?”

“Yes, because I am acquainted with the district.”

“Then you lived alone in Bayswater?” I suggested.

“Yes. I have never lived under the same roof with Purvis, except here at Page’s, because I—I hate him.”

“Why?”

Her pale, quivering lips compressed, but no word escaped them.

I knew the truth. The man was implicated in the assassination of her lover, if not the actual murderer. Therefore she held him in loathing.

“Well,” I said at length, as we strolled along beside the dark, silent stream, “tell me the story of the treasure as my enemies know it. We are friends, Miss Drummond, and our enemies are mutual. Cannot we unite forces and combat them?”

“Oh!” she sighed, “I only wish we could. I fear, however, that it is impossible.” There was a pathos in her voice which showed that the words came direct from a heart overburdened with grief.

“What do these men know about me?” I inquired.

“Everything. They have watched you vigilantly day and night, and are aware of every movement on your part. They know the whole story of how you discovered the derelict, and what you found on board. They even know the contents of certain of the parchments you recovered—one, I think, had a number of signatures upon it.”

“The one stolen from Mr. Staffurth’s?” I cried.

“Yes. But they had a copy of that long before. From what I’ve heard, there was on board your steamer a man named Harding, who had sailed as seaman, but who was a professor of Latin who had come down in the world. It was he who made the copy and translation and sold it to some one, who afterwards sold it to Purvis. The latter lost no time in coming here and buying the parchment from Knutton, thus forestalling you.”

“Was Harding previously acquainted with Purvis?”

“I think so. The copy and information were not, however, sold direct, but through a third person.”

“Are they sanguine of success?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “By some means they’ve discovered evidence that the gold is concealed in the Manor House.”

“In what part?”

“Ah! That is not known. They intend to............