Two days passed; and small as was Juliet\'s faith in Madame Veno, she did not stir from the house lest the woman should telephone in her absence.

The strain of constant suspense was like a screw tightening her nerves to breaking point. Her irritation grew against Jack, who persisted in warning her that she would repent her suspicions of Lyda Pavoya. To his mind apparently the dancer\'s story accounted for everything. Lyda had volunteered a statement that she had touched the safe after Claremanagh opened it, and she had offered to give Sanders her own fingerprints in order that they might be identified with those taken on the door of the safe, the only ones found there with the exception of the Duke\'s. Even this fact—that there should be no other marks visible—didn\'t prejudice Jack against the Siren. According to him—and (he said) to Sanders—the real thief or thieves had used rubber gloves.

As for Sanders, he tried to calm the Duchess\'s impatience by assuring her that everything possible was being done. He even had a theory. But, of what comfort was that to her, as he refused to tell her what it was until—or if—he could obtain positive proof? It hardly interested Juliet that he should have cabled Monsieur Mayen and learned in reply that there was no scratch on the duplicate ring given Mayen by Pat. She hadn\'t for a moment supposed there would be! Of course it merely made matters worse that Mayen should be left-handed, and that a specimen seal he sent by cabled request should have an entirely different appearance from those on the covering of the packet. Also, it seemed stupid rather than intelligent that Defasquelle should be watched. The detective admitted that the Frenchman seemed above suspicion. He had begged the Duke to open the packet in his presence, which alone proved his innocence, as Sanders couldn\'t help seeing. Besides, the French police had replied to a wired demand for Defasquelle\'s dossier, by saying that he was a person of unblemished character. He appeared to deserve the trust reposed in him by Monsieur Mayen; had saved up a little money and was engaged to a pretty girl with a good dot, the daughter of a hotel keeper in Marseilles. Not only that, Defasquelle was remaining in New York for the purpose of giving what aid he could. Altogether, Juliet considered that Sanders\' activities were disappointing, and Jack\'s no better.

She refused to meet Lyda and talk with her in person as Jack advised her to do, and between her sense of being deserted and her desperate anxiety for the truth about Pat, she found more and more that her thoughts clung to the broken reed of hope held out by Madame Veno.

At last, when she was making up her mind to see the woman again without waiting longer, the message came.

Juliet was in the act of answering a letter from Nancy Van Esten, begging her to be at the dress rehearsal for the "great show" which was to benefit the Armenians. There was an undertone of friendly insistence which Juliet understood very well. Nancy knew what people were saying about Pat and Pavoya and the pearls. If she—Juliet—refused to attend this rehearsal to which all her most intimate "pals" were going, everyone would draw certain conclusions. She hated to go, but had written to say that she\'d "drop in about five o\'clock"—the rehearsal had to be in the afternoon, as the roof garden theatre was wanted in the evening for the last night of a revue—when the telephone bell rang almost in her ear. She picked up the receiver from the writing table, and her heart leaped at the sound of Madame Veno\'s voice.

"Is that you yourself, Duchess? Yes? Well, he\'s here! Can you come around at once?"

"Yes," said Juliet, and putting down the receiver had begun to get ready, when she remembered the letter which ought to be left for Jack. There was no time, after all, to write details. She ought to have had the note ready for emergencies, but it hadn\'t occurred to her till now. Hurriedly she jotted down the address of Madame Veno and a request to Jack to send there. Then, when she had scrawled "Captain Manners, Tarascon Hotel," and sealed the envelope, the Duchess rang for her maid.

"I\'m going out, Simone," she said. "It\'s now four-thirty. If I\'m not back by six-thirty it will mean that—that I must miss an appointment with Captain Manners; so at that time take this to his hotel yourself. He tells me that he\'s always at home between six-thirty and seven-thirty, so he\'s sure to be there. But if not, you can ring up Mr. Sanders at his private address, which I\'ll jot down for you, and ask him to call for Captain Manners\' letter which concerns his business as well. I expect to come in much sooner, however—in which case you will simply hand this envelope back to me. You quite understand?"

"I quite understand, Madame la Duchesse," echoed Simone, pinning on her mistress\'s hat, and handing her a pair of gloves.

So well did she understand that, the moment Juliet was out of the house (the car having been ordered), she examined the back of the said envelope. In her hurry Juliet had not sealed it firmly. The flap was still wet, and came loose with almost ridiculous ease.

Simone had been somewhat surprised by the Duchess\'s instructions (her reason for wishing to acquaint herself with the contents of the letter) but she was still more surprised by the letter itself.

The Duchess was going to Madame Veno\'s, evidently to keep an engagement already made, and it would seem that she considered herself in some danger. Could Madame Veno mean to give away Mademoiselle Amaranthe\'s connection with the Inner Circle?

Simone told herself that this was an absurd and far-fetched suspicion, because it was not probable that Madame Veno knew anything about her activities. Besides, why should the woman—even if she knew them—betray valuable secrets of the paper and its best correspondents? It was but an idea born of an uncomfortable conscience—another name for fear.


Juliet was admitted to Madame Veno\'s flat by the respectable creature in black silk who had impressed her so favourably two days before. Again she was taken into the cubicle of a private waiting-room, and there Madame came at once, from her own room.

"He\'s still here!" she announced, having closed the door. "Everything is wonderful—but different from what I expected."

"Who is the man?" Juliet abruptly asked.

"I don\'t know. I haven\'t been able yet to make him tell me that. He seemed so obstinate that I thought I\'d better extract more important details first, in case in his struggles not to obey I should lose mind-control of him—which does happen now and then in such experiments."

"You mean to tell me that this man—whoever he is—actually came to you from heaven knows where because you willed him to come, and that you hypnotized him to find out about my husband?"

"I mean just that," answered Madame Veno, triumphantly. "I\'ve done this sort of thing before. It\'s the secret of my success over other psychics. I\'ve found out that your husband was kidnapped, just as I thought. As for the pearls, so far as I can understand, he had them on him. Anyhow, they\'re in these people\'s possession. But you\'d better come into my room and talk to the man."

"Is he still hypnotized?" Juliet wanted to know, irritated by her feeling that she was being deceived, yet eager and curious.

"No, not now. I\'ve released him from the influence. He was going pale about the lips, which shows a weak heart, and I was scared. I can\'t take big risks of that sort! But when I explained what I\'d got out of him, and when I\'d even made him put on paper a short statement of his own handwriting, he saw that he might as well be frank——"

"If the statement was signed, you must have got his name. And if not, what use is it?"

"He thinks he\'s signed it, for I covered up the place where the name s............