Being left to myself after thoroughly thrashing out the whole case with Dr. Mainwaring and the chief constable, who both agreed with me that the circumstances were the most extraordinary they had ever heard of, I sat down to consider matters by myself.

Here was I, a country gentleman of moderate estate, trying to eke out a smallish income by literature, plumped down into the centre of as fine a tangle of mystery as ever came out of the Arabian Nights Entertainments.

I got up and looked at myself in the glass, and saw there a clean-shaven tall man of thirty whose black hair was already turning white at the temples; about my grey eyes, alas, there were already crows' feet, the price I had paid, I suppose, for taking honours at Oxford.

I sat down again and thought deeply.

"Bill Anstruther," I said to myself, "you're in for it. You've consented to receive the confidences of that old lady, who, poor soul, was in the direst need of help and friendship without doubt when she called you in the night before last. You're bound in honour to go through with it, and try to help her, or at any rate carry out her wishes, be she dead or alive."

Thus I reasoned, and in this, it seemed to me, my duty lay. Obviously the first thing to do was to obtain possession of the packets again and ascertain their contents. I knew, of course, that they were directed to me and possibly contained some request of the old lady. I marvelled very much what the connection between her and the man with the glass eye could possibly be, but could form no guess even in the matter. It was very evident that he was a bloodthirsty scoundrel, and I had little doubt in my own mind that it was he who had wounded her, perhaps unto death.

While I thought of it, I decided to go down to the office and make inquiries concerning Saumarez.

I found he had left during the morning.

"Mr. Saumarez went up to town, sir," explained the clerk, "by the twelve-twenty."

"Thank you," I said, and walked away to the smoking-room to have a good think again. Eating for the present was out of the question.

After three cigarettes I arrived at the following conclusions. I would go up to town in the morning, secure the packets, and read them in my lawyers' office.

I would not trust myself to carry them about with me while that man Saumarez was at large. It was very evident that the safe and its contents possessed a great attraction for him; probably with very good reason.

I caught the morning train to London, and arrived in Lincoln's Inn about two o'clock, after lunching early at my club. There Messrs. Blackett & Snowdon's managing clerk handed me the registered packet which I had sent off the evening before from the post office in Monmouth Street, Bath.

With this in my hand I retired to the private office of Mr. Snowdon, who was away from town, his room being placed at my disposal by the managing clerk when I told him I had some important papers to examine.

I sat down at the desk, cleared it of the few papers lying there, then prepared to open my precious parcel.

First I tore off the registered envelope.

Yes, there were the two packets which I had thought so much of in the hours I lay awake during the night. There was the key; there was the handkerchief.

I took this latter up and examined it carefully by the light. It was of the finest cambric, and bore in the corner the letter C.

Then there remained the two packets to examine.

They were both addressed to me in a small, old-fashioned handwriting which I took to be that of the old lady, poor soul! One was heavy, felt hard, and contained evidently a box of some sort, the other was soft and I took it to be composed of papers. I broke the seals—a C—and opened it. My surmise was correct, it contained several sheets of thick correspondence paper, covered with writing. It was dated the day I first met her. When I spread it out this is what I found it to contain—

"DEAR MR. ANSTRUTHER,—I have little doubt but you consider me merely a crazy old woman.

"Perhaps I am, Heaven knows I have had enough trouble in my life to make me so, and the trouble and anxiety I am enduring now is by no means the lightest I have had to bear. That is why I had the resolve to trust you, taking a sudden fancy, as I have done before without regretting it, to a resolute open face.

"I believe that you will carry out what I ask of you to the letter; I believe you will do it honestly and truly, for the reason that you love to be honest and true.

"So much for my trust in you. Now for the object of my appealing to you.

"I am threatened with a great peril, a peril which may cost me my life, I expect it, I do not fear it. I have held my life in my hands for years past.

"But there is something in my case which I value more than my life; this I would preserve at all costs. It is contained in the small box in the second packet which I have prepared for you.

"I think I have thought of every contingency and may reasonably count upon being left in peace until I see you at five to-morrow. I do not doubt for one moment but that you will keep your appointment. Should I, however, have to send you to the safe, instead of handing you these packets, I have prepared even for that.

"The request I am about to make you is, I know, an unreasonable one, yet I believe you will carry it out.

"Upon opening the other packet, which I shall leave you with this, you will find a small carved casket which is locked; with it you will find sufficient money for your journey—of which presently.

"Mr. Anstruther, I want you to take the casket to Aquazilia and to deliver it to the person to whom it is addressed."

"Aquazilia!" I exclaimed, putting down the letter, "why, that is the big Republic the other side of Brazil which once upon a time used to be a Monarchy! That's rather a tall order!" I took the letter up again and went on:—

"I know the journey is a long one, but it will repay you. When you told me you were a writer, I knew at once that such a journey would be one from which you would draw profit both in experience and otherwise. In doing it you will earn my undying gratitude. Go, I beseech you! To you I confide that which is dearer to me than my life. Go, I implore of you. I ask it in the name of Truth and Honour. Go, and earn the eternal thanks of

"CARLOTTA D'ALTENBERG."

"D'Altenberg, d'Altenberg," I muttered as I finished. "It seems a familiar name!"

I now turned my attention to the second packet, and opened that. It contained a small wooden box with the lid tied down with string. Upon taking this off, I found within a very beautifully carved oblong casket, made of ebony, inlaid with gold. It was a most finished piece of workmanship, and measured, I should think, about six inches by perhaps two and a half. In raised letters on the lid was carved the letter C as on the seals. On a small parchment label firmly secured to it by silk was:—

"To His Excellency the Senor JUAN D'ALTA,
Valoro,
Aquazilia."

It was fastened by no less than three locks, all of different sizes, and by its excessive weight, even for ebony, I should say was lined with some metal.

When I had lifted this casket out of the box I found beneath it two ordinary long envelopes both addressed to me and open. On the first I took up was:—

"To William Anstruther, Esq.
For the expenses of the journey to Valoro."

I opened it and found it to contain four fifty pound notes. On the other was my name, and beneath it:—

"A slight honorarium by way of compensation for time lost on the journey."

It contained a Bank of England note for one thousand pounds. I sat with the note in my hand for some time; it was the first for that amount which I had ever come across.

However, not without some considerable satisfaction, I admit, I put up the note into its envelope again and packed it with the other into the box. I very carefully replaced the ebony casket after a glance of admiration at its beautifully inlaid workmanship.

I closed the box up as before, and, making free with Mr. Snowdon's stationery, put it in a fresh linen lined envelope and sealed it up again. This time with my own seal. I treated the letter in the same way, packing it up with the hankerchief and the key, then directed the two to myself, care of my lawyers. I intended to leave both in their care as before. I had ample confidence in their strong room. I had barely completed this task and thrown the old wrappers into the fire, when there came a knock at the door; the managing clerk entered with rather a scared look on his face.

"There are two men waiting to see you downstairs, Mr. Anstruther," he announced, "and I rather think they are police officers."

Instinctively as he spoke I thrust the two packets before me into pigeon holes of the writing table I was sitting at, and he saw me do it.

Before I could make any reply, the door was pushed open behind him, and two men entered; the foremost of them walked up to the table.

"Are you Mr. William Anstruther?" he asked.

He was a tall, dark, fresh-coloured man with sharp grey eyes, his companion had the appearance of an ordinary constable in plain clothes.

"Yes," I answered, rising, "I am William Anstruther."

"Then I arrest you, William Anstruther," he said, "on suspicion of causing the death of an old lady, name unknown, whose body was discovered at daybreak this morning on Lansdown, near Bath, with her throat cut. You'll have to come with us down to Bath to be charged."

Here was a terrible development!

My first thoughts were of pity for the poor old lady. How I wished I had been able to save her life.

"Very well," I answered as coolly as I could. "I suppose there is no help for it, and I had better go with you. Perhaps, Mr. Watson," I said, turning to the managing clerk, who was standing by as white as a sheet, "perhaps you will see that this man has proper authority for taking me."

"Certainly, Mr. Anstruther," he answered, then turning to the detective he asked for his papers.

"Show me your warrant, please," he said. "I shall not allow Mr.
Anstruther, our client, to leave with you unless you do."

The fresh-coloured officer smiled, and produced from his pocket a blue paper, together with some other documents. These seemed to satisfy Watson.

"There seems no help for it, Mr. Anstruther," he said, with them in his hands. "I am afraid you will have to go with him. This is a proper warrant signed by a magistrate on sworn information."

"Who are the informants?" I asked.

He referred to the warrant and read out the names.

"Inspector James Bull, Frederick Redfern, surgeon, and Anthony
Saumarez, gentleman."

"Saumarez!" I exclaimed, "the scoundrel and would-be murderer!"

"You had better be careful what you say," remarked the police officer, "as I may have to take it down, and it will be used against you."

"Yes," confirmed Watson, "you'd better say as little as possible. No doubt the whole matter is a mistake."

I took up my overcoat and the managing clerk helped me on with it; meanwhile, the police officer walked to the desk I had been sitting at and laid his hands on some papers. I looked upon the packets as lost.

Watson, however, stopped him at once.

"You mustn't touch those papers," he said hastily. "They are the property of Mr. Snowdon, a member of our firm."

"Then what is he doing here?" asked the man, with a jerk of his head towards me.

"Mr. Anstruther," replied Watson, "was attending to some business correspondence at Mr. Snowdon's desk, that gentleman being away."

"Where's the correspondence?" asked the detective, with a quick glance at my two packets sticking out of the pigeon holes. I looked the man straight in the face.

"My correspondence is finished," I answered, "and in the hands of this firm."

A little smile about Watson's mouth and a hasty glance at the packets, convinced me that he understood my remark.

"Very well, then," said the police officer, "we'd better come along. Provided you come quietly," he observed to me as I followed him out, "it won't be necessary for me to handcuff you."

That was a comfort I thought, as I went downstairs and through the office, full of astounded clerks, who had all known me well for years.

We got into a cab and were driven to Paddington Station, reaching it about dusk, much to my satisfaction, as I should not at all have appreciated making my appearance in such a place with the two police officers.

We got into a third class compartment all to ourselves right at the end of the train, near the engine, and there I sat between the two men, who hardly exchanged a word the whole way, but who sat trying to read newspapers by the bad light. They would hold no conversation with me.

When we got to Bath they hurried me quickly down the stairs into a fly, and then we drove straight through the town.

As we passed the police station and my hotel—towards which I cast longing glances, for it was not far off dinner time—I asked a question of the tall, fresh-coloured man.

"I understood that you were going to take me to the police station?" I said.

The man shook his head.

"We are taking you to the prison," he said, "for the night. You will be brought before the magistrates in the morning."

I sank back in the corner of the fly thoroughly dejected, and the vehicle drove out by what I knew to be the Warminster Road. We now left the lights of the town behind, and then the journey was entirely between two hedgerows, which bordered the road, with an occasional field gate by way of variety—all else beyond was blank night, for there was no moon.

My two guardians began to show signs of fatigue, not unmixed with a certain disgust, at the length of the journey.

They began yawning and stretching their arms, with very little regard for my comfort.

When at last the fly pulled up with a jerk, after a good deal of bumping over a rough road, the two men were very unceremonious in ordering me to quit the vehicle.

"Now then, Ugly," remarked the fresh-coloured man with a push of his foot, which was remarkably like a kick, "out you get!"

He stepped out himself and I followed, knowing full well it was useless to resist, but I made a mental resolve that I would report him.

Once outside the fly, I found myself apparently at the foot of a tower, a door stood open in front of me, and on the doorstep a man holding a lantern.

I was, however, given very little time to contemplate this scene; the big man seized my right arm, and his companion my left; between them, they rushed me up a flight of steps immediately inside the tower.

These steps constituted a spiral staircase which wound round the interior of the tower; ever and anon as we passed a small window I saw the lights of Bath twinkling in the distance.

Beyond a few walks during the ten days I had spent there—my first visit—I knew very little of Bath or its neighbourhood, therefore I had no opportunity of taking my bearings.

I was urged up this staircase in a manner which I should have thought unusual had I not remembered the men's complaints of the long journey—which they had made twice—in the fly.

Finally we reached a door, and they simply pushed me through it into a large room. It was evidently the top storey of the tower and had windows looking all ways. It was perfectly circular in shape, was fairly clean, and had a fire burning in a grate with a wire screen before it; in one corner was a bed.

The two men released their hold as I looked around, and the dark one went to a corner and picked up a chain.

"Come here!" he shouted to me roughly.

His colleague assisted me by giving me a shove in his direction. Then, in a twinkling, he fixed a steel ring to my left ankle, snapped it there and locked a small padlock on it.

I was chained up like a dog!

Having thoroughly searched me, they prepared to leave; the taller man addressed me.

"I suppose you know," he remarked, as the two moved towards the door, "that if you make any attempt to escape, you'll be shot?"

With this parting caution he closed the door, and I heard a key turn in the lock.

I took one turn round the room, the chain being long enough, with many a yearning look at the distant lights of Bath; then, horrified at the clanking of my fetters, which were fixed to a staple in the wall, I threw myself as I was on the bed in the corner, and there, being tired out, almost immediately fell asleep.