It was with great reluctance Martin left Hanley Hall on the morning after his visit with Blount, and equally reluctant were the Staffords to part with him.

On arriving in London he found Blount awaiting him at the station.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing. Everything's down, including your friend Carden, who is lying sick at the Bridge Hotel. He arrived last night. Better go to him."

"Carden here! By George! I must be off!" and hailing a cab Martin hurried away and was soon at his destination.

He found his friend in an easy chair near the window, looking pale and weak.

"Fred, old man! How are you? What's the matter?" exclaimed Martin, shaking both his hands warmly.

"Fred" was a dark handsome fellow of about five and twenty, whose face beamed with pleasure on beholding Martin.

"Oh, Dick! I'm so glad you came! How did you find me? I want to get home as quick as possible, and you must come down with me."

He had begun speaking in such a strange tone and closed so weak and wearily that Martin became alarmed.

"All right, Fred," he said. "Shall we start now? There's a fast train in twenty minutes."

"Yes, let us go at once—my luggage can wait."

It was just 3 o'clock when they arrived at Hanley Hall, and twenty minutes later Martin was on his way back—glad to get away.

There was great rejoicing over Carden's return, and much pity for his illness. That was perfectly natural and proper, but it made Martin sick at heart as he watched Kate hovering about his friend, anticipating his every wish and showing in every act the greatest affection for him. A woman looking on would not have been at all alarmed at this exhibition of affection—but then, Martin was only a man, and he went back to London with a heavy heart. He was mistaken, so he told himself as he went back in the train, it was only gratitude she felt for him.

At Bow Street he found a note saying Blount wished to see him, and he left one in return asking Blount to call at his hotel. He had hardly reached his rooms when Blount's card was presented to him and that gentleman ushered in.

Martin was in a bad, and for him, unusual mood, and Blount noticed it immediately.

"Have you any special engagement to-night?" asked Martin.

"No. I'm free except for that fellow, Hall."

"Hang Hall!" growled Martin, as he rang for an attendant.

"With all my heart!" rejoined Blount.

"I'm morally certain he deserves it, but hang me if it will be easy to prove it!"

"A bottle of brandy and a half dozen soda," said Martin, to the attendant who came in answer to his call.

"Now tell me what you've done, Blount! Here, have a cigar before you begin."

Blount looked at him curiously, took the cigar, and quietly detailed all that he had learned in the last two days.

Martin listened attentively, or appeared to, and when his visitor finished, pushed over the bottle of brandy.

"Help yourself, Blount," he said, and then filled his own glass, but made no remark regarding the story he had just heard. As a matter of fact his thoughts were away off in Hanley Hall. The detective, however, knew nothing about that, and somewhat piqued by his indifference, asked:

"Have you given up the matter, Mr. Martin?"

Martin looked at him inquiringly.

"I mean the recovery of your papers."

Martin apparently tried to pull himself together.

"Look here, Blount," he said, "I'm not right! You've been telling me something and I've been thinking of something else. Give me that brandy and tell me it all over again."

Blount passed over the bottle and Martin took a large tumbler full neat. It seemed to pull him together, and Blount, quick to appreciate the situation, repeated his story. When he had finished, Martin had apparently gathered his wits together. He pondered for a few minutes, and when he spoke Blount saw he was all business again.

"Blount, I am convinced that you are correct in regard to this man. I am myself anxious you should find him, for I believe when you fasten the murder of Golden on him I will obtain the papers I am looking for. I have not only not given up the case, but I will double what I offered at first for their recovery!"

Blount's sharp eyes grew brighter, but before he could speak Martin continued:

"This man has got about two days' start of you. It is for you now to close every port against him. I mean see that he cannot enter any city, either by rail or river, without your knowledge and his movements reported to you. Spare no expense! And now let us quit the subject for an hour or two. I am out of sorts. I can't talk any more about this thing!"

"All right," assented his companion, cheerily. "Let's hear something about life in Australia, or shall I spin you a yarn of police life?"

They sat and talked until late in the night, and when Blount left he carried a check for £100, "to cover immediate expenses."

When he called next morning Blount found Martin had entirely recovered from his nervousness, as he called it.

"I have covered every point, I think," said Blount, "and now all we can do, at least for the present, is to hunt for the original of the face in the locket."

Day after day passed without word from the foreign police or the discovery of a face resembling that in the locket. At Martin's request, Blount had been relieved from all other duty, and they now traveled about together.

On the morning of the tenth day after the disappearance of Hall, Martin was standing on the steps of the hotel, waiting for Blount, when he suddenly caught sight of Mr. Stafford picking his way between the throng of wagons and cabs toward him.

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the old gentleman, "it's as much as one's life is worth to cross here!"

"It is a dangerous spot," responded Martin, warmly returning the cordial greeting of Mr. Stafford. "How is Fred getting along?"

"He is improving. We have the right tonic for him I believe, but he is anxious to see you, and as I had to come to town, I was charged to bring you back with me. Ah! Here comes our friend. Good-morning, Mr. Blount."

Blount looked somewhat excited. In his hand he carried a telegraph envelope which he handed to Martin.

"By the way, Mr. Blount, I have just heard from Mr. Hall. He is at the Royal Hotel, in Dublin. If not too late you can communicate with him there. And now, Mr. Martin, I must be off, but I shall expect you to be ready to go with me at one o'clock. Good-morning, gentlemen!"

While Mr. Stafford had been talking, Martin was reading the following from a Dublin detective:

He had caught what Mr. Stafford had said and looked at Blount in amazement. The latter looked staggered.

"Well, this beats all!" he exclaimed. "Here we've been looking all over the civilized world and just as we find him, the fellow sends us word himself! Either we are all wrong about him, or he's the cheekiest case I've yet met."

"Why, Blount, where are your wits? Don't you see, he has managed to dispose of the diamonds somehow, and has gone to Ireland to carry out his story. You must get after him at once and trace him back."

"Right you are! I must be growing stupid—but I'll be off at once!"

"Wait a moment! You can't get away until to-night. Better send your man a telegram to watch him closely. Then come back to my rooms—it may be a long hunt, and money does as much as brains sometimes."

"I have sent the telegram," said Blount. "He is at this moment under the best pair of eyes in Europe."

Two hours later Blount started on his long chase, and when Mr. Stafford called he found Martin all prepared to accompany him.