Most of the lights in the houses in Park Lane were out when Walter reached his uncle\'s residence. But as he entered the hall he could see that the studio was still ablaze. The door was \'closed, but a thin shaft of light penetrated from beneath. As Walter tried the door he found to his surprise that it was locked. With some feeling of apprehension he called to his uncle, and a moment later Ravenspur turned the key. His face was pale. There was in his eyes a look which spoke of some vague fear.

"I hope I am not disturbing you," Walter said.

"My dear boy, I am only too pleased to have a companion," Ravenspur said eagerly. "Upon my word, my nerves are so much shaken by these terrible happenings that I am almost afraid to be alone. Sit down and have a cigarette."

Walter took a cigarette from the silver box on a little table, nor did he fail to note the presence of a stand of spirits, which was a thing in which his uncle rarely, or never, indulged.

"I really needed a stimulant tonight," Ravenspur said, half apologetically. "Where have you been all the evening?"

"I have been out making discoveries," Walter said, as he threw himself down into a comfortable armchair, "and one of my discoveries has been really remarkable. To be perfectly candid, Venables and myself have been doing a little private detective business together. Venables was by no means satisfied that that fellow Stevens had told all he knew at the inquest on poor Delahay, so we hunted Mr. Stevens up, and finally ran him to earth in his dingy lodgings."

"And did he give you any valuable information?" Ravenspur asked eagerly. "Was it worth your while?"

"Indeed, it was, as you will see for yourself, sir. As soon as ever we got into the room I was struck by a picture there. One does not usually find great works of art in a bed-sitting room at five shillings a week. And when you see a picture like that, worth a couple of thousand pounds at least, it naturally arouses your curiosity. And when, on the top of that, the picture is perfectly familiar to you, why, my dear uncle----"

"You mean you had seen the picture before? Where?"

"In this very studio; you painted it here, sir. It is one of the three pictures which were stolen from you some time ago. Oh, you need not shake your head, uncle. I assure you that I have not made the slightest mistake. I leave you to guess which of the three pictures it was that I saw in that dreary bed-sitting room."

"I think I can tell you," Ravenspur groaned. "It was the fancy portrait. Some instinct tells me so."

"You are quite right, sir," Walter went on. "It was the portrait, surely enough. But it did not belong to Stevens, as you will probably have guessed by this time. It had been left in his care by an Italian friend, who gave a very plausible reason for being in possession of so valuable a work. I understand that this Italian\'s name was Luigi Silva. Have you heard of him?"

Lord Ravenspur rose from his chair, and walked agitatedly up and down the studio. It was some little time before he spoke, and then his words came slowly and painfully.

"I see you know more than I had expected," he said. "For instance, you have formed the conclusion that this Luigi Silva stole that picture. In fact, that he came here on purpose to get possession of it, and that he took two other canvases at the same time to prevent us finding out his real motive. Till tonight I had not the remotest idea why this Luigi Silva wanted that portrait, because the loss of the other pictures utterly deceived me, as it was intended to do. Now I know better."

"But you did not answer my question, sir," Lance suggested.

"Oh, yes; you wanted to know if I was personally acquainted with this man. As a matter of fact, I am not, though I have heard far too much about him for my peace of mind. But tell me, how did you manage to ascertain the fellow\'s proper name?"

"That, of course, we got from Stevens," Walter explained. "Silva is in England ostensibly as a music hall artist; in other words, he is Valdo, the flying man that I told you about a little time ago. But don\'t you think we are getting rather from the point, uncle? I want to know the history of this man."

Once more Ravenspur commenced his walk up and down the room. He seemed to be hovering between two minds.

"Perhaps it would be wiser if I were to tell you everything," he said. "I did not intend to do so, but to a certain extent you have forced my hand, and it would be much more prudent for you to know where you stand. You asked me just now what I knew of this man Silva. Eighteen years ago he was in the employ of a great friend of mine, Count Boris Flavio. My unfortunate friend is forgotten now, but at the time of which I am speaking he enjoyed almost a European reputation. To begin with, he was an exceeding............