It was now between five and six o'clock, and we did not wait for the night to pass before we commenced the task of hunting Dr. Peterssen down. The immediate result, however, was unsatisfactory. Indefatigable as we were we learnt nothing, and Crawley proved to be rather in our way than otherwise. Dr. Peterssen's movements must have been cunningly made indeed to so baffle us. We went to the railway station, but the station-master was positive that three such men as we described had not taken tickets for any place during the day. He could have identified Dr. Peterssen; of Peterssen's patient or of M. Felix he had no knowledge.

"There isn't much traffic here," he said, "and we know pretty well who comes and goes."

"But strangers sometimes pass through," I observed.

"That goes without saying," he responded.

"They might have travelled separately," suggested Bob.

"They might," said the station-master.

"It is hardly likely," I said aside to Bob, "that this would be the case. If Peterssen and M. Felix have come together again, Peterssen would not lose sight of his villainous partner; and neither of them would lose sight of the gentleman they have wronged."

I consulted the time-table. There was no other direct train to London that night, but a train passed through, without stopping, at 11.40. I inquired of the station-master whether it was possible for the train to stop a few seconds to take me up to London, and he answered that it could be managed. Having arranged the matter with him I left the station, accompanied by Bob and Sophy. Crawley lingered behind; he had a flask with him, out of which he took frequent drinks. I had already arrived at the conclusion that he would be of little assistance in tracking Dr. Peterssen, but as his evidence might be valuable in the event of our hunting Peterssen down I thought it advisable to keep him about us.

"What is your idea?" asked Bob, as we walked from the station to the inn.

"If I do not receive a satisfactory letter or telegram from London before eleven o'clock," I replied, "I shall go on to London to see Emilia."

"For what purpose?"

"To gain some information of M. Bordier. Something may come of it--I cannot say what; but to remain inactive would be fatal to our chances."

"Peterssen has a good start of us," said Bob. "He has given us check."

"But not checkmate, Bob. I have hopes that it remains with us to score the game."

Neither telegram nor letter had arrived for me at the inn, and a little after eleven I was at the station, awaiting the train. It was punctual to time, and stopped just long enough to enable me to jump in. Then we whirled on to London, which we reached at three o'clock in the morning. At such an hour a visit to Emilia was out of the question, and I had perforce to bide till morning. The delay gave me opportunity for a few hours' sleep, and at nine o'clock I was in the presence of Emilia. Although she received me with signs of perturbation I observed a change in her. Her eyes were brighter, and there was a certain joyousness in her manner which I was glad to see.

"You have had good news," I said.

"I have," she replied, "the best of good news. But what brings you again to London so unexpectedly, dear friend?"

I thought of the secret in my possession which identified Dr. Peterssen's patient, Number One, as Gerald Paget, whom she had mourned as dead for nineteen years. But I did not dare to whisper it to her lest I should inspire delusive hopes. The proof had yet to be established, and until that was done it would be best and most merciful to preserve silence.

"I come entirely upon your business," I said, "and I wish to get back at once."

"How good you are to me!" she murmured. "Never, never can I repay you for all your kindness."

"We will not speak of that. But you can give me some return now. I think I may truly say that I deserve your confidence."

"Indeed, indeed you do."

"I sent you a telegram yesterday."

"Yes, I received it."

"I expected one from you."

"I am sorry," she said, "but I had nothing to communicate, and M. Bordier desired me neither to write nor telegraph to anyone till he saw me. I was bound to obey him with so much at stake."

"Yes, I understand all that. He is aware that I am a reporter on a newspaper, and he fears I shall make improper use of information. I cannot blame him, but he is mistaken. Did not M. Bordier return to London yesterday?"

"No."

"He gave you instructions, then, by letter."

"By letter and telegrams."

She took from her pocket a letter, and two telegrams in their familiar buff-colored envelopes, and, after a little hesitation, handed me the latter.

"I cannot think I am doing wrong in letting you see them," she said.

The first telegram ran: "I have good news, the best of news. Keep a good heart. Julian unites with me in love to you and Constance."

"His son is with him?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Poor Julian!"

In my last interview with her, two days since, she had referred to Julian Bordier in the same pitying tone. I had not then asked for an explanation, and I had not time now. The moments were too precious to waste in questions which did not bear immediately upon the matter in hand. I read the second telegram: "We may be absent a day or two. Meanwhile send no letters or telegrams to any person whatsoever. I particularly desire to avoid publicity of any kind. To Mr. Agnold, who has so generously and kindly befriended you, I will give a full explanation when we meet. Our united love."

For a moment or two I was nettled, but I very soon got over the small feeling. Had I been present when M. Bordier surprised Bob Tucker in the inn and found the document in the secret drawer of the desk, he would doubtless have taken me into his confidence. It was natural that he should look upon Bob in a different light, for the probable reason that he supposed him to be a professional detective.

"M. Bordier," s............