Pondering over the strange events of the evening, Paul Lanier lay awake all night after return from his visit with Agnes Randall. Longer he thought, deeper became the mystery. He mutters: "Not one weird circumstance alone, but such grouping of ghostly coincidents! Being ushered into the private room of Sir Charles was explained by Agnes, but why that fitful glare of lights? How came that copy of London Press, with underscored reference to the Thames murders, in possession of Sir Charles Chesterton? All this might concur in time and place through odd happenings, but that horrible tableau! The murdered Alice Webster, with gory temple, long, damp tresses clinging to her form, in striking pose, advancing and receding, mutely gesticulating such fearful prophetic menace, was too real for chimerical conjecture or mere coincidence. How came that door closed just after the tableau? That declamation! Such pertinent lines and ghostly utterances, so exactly imitating the voice of Alice!"

Paul began to think there must be something wrong with his head. Never before had he felt any such queer sensations, except when Alice approached his hiding-place along shore of the lake. Strange about that grewsome drapery of seaweed!

Paul is now startled with the conviction that Alice Webster, borne by the Thames current, had drifted out to sea. He exclaims: "Can it be that her body has been found and identified? What could the spectral voice have meant by the prophecy about burial 'in a cave' and 'trodden down with stones'? What if the body of Oswald Langdon, too, has passed out to the boundless deep, and his fleshless skeleton now is awaiting identification in some rock-sealed ocean cave!

"That fearful threat about will of 'fierce avenging sprite!' How escape that sure blood-atonement?"

It now seems to Paul that all the sleuths of fate are hunting him for these murders.

Rising haggard and feverish, he takes a glass of strong brandy and braces himself for the day. After light breakfast, he starts out for a walk, but avoids familiar faces.

Agnes had told Paul not to call again before Sunday evening. Still revolving in his mind weird incidents of the previous night, this restless youth passes the time, and again sleeps but little.

All the next day, until time for his call upon Agnes, Paul spends in nervous, troubled conjecture, but can find no solution of this elusive problem. The strain is terrible and his look is alert. He avoids all acquaintances and gives startled looks into vacancy, as if fearing invisible attack. With quick, furtive glances, his right hand grasping concealed dagger, Paul scans strange faces, but there is suggestion of helplessness in facial shades, as if consciously battling against unseen, pitiless foes.

Promptly at the appointed hour Paul rings the bell at apartments of Sir Charles. There is no response. Impatiently waiting for some time, the bell is again rung. Still no one responds. Going around to apartments occupied by the family, Paul again rings, when the proprietor appears. Upon asking if Miss Randall were at home, Paul is startled by the information that the Chesterton rooms have been vacated.

Excitedly curious, Paul inquires when and where Miss Randall moved. He learns that the rooms were vacated shortly after midnight two days before, without notice. The rent had been paid until the first of the next month, and the keys were found in the doors. The proprietor had watched from his window, but did not see Miss Randall leave the house. Two men left in the vehicle.

Paul returned to his room more startled and mystified than before. The occupants of that midnight conveyance disturbed his waking hours and haunted his dreams. What had become of Agnes Randall? Perhaps the girl had been abducted, but why did she not enter the conveyance? Possibly Agnes had been murdered. Could it be that her body was removed in one of the large trunks? He becomes terribly interested in solving this puzzle, but hesitates to investigate.

The circumstances immediately preceding this strange affair render his will nerveless. The menacing voices of his murdered victims warn him to be cautious. With all his excitement, Paul will shun notoriety by discreet silence.

Pierre Lanier and Sir Charles are daily expected. It now occurs to Paul that his position will be most embarrassing. What theory can he advance to Sir Charles for the absence of Agnes? Will not Sir Charles suspect him of foul play? Had not Paul called that evening and left late? When Sir Charles inquires at the house and hears the whole story, Paul's connivance in this abducting scheme will seem clear.

Between two tragic plots, one real, the other mysterious, Paul is much bewildered. How escape deserved reckoning in the one and unmerited accounting in the other?

The young man's ingenuity again comes to his aid. All intangible, ghostly menace downs before this real danger. Paul quits his room, and in disguise watches for incoming steamer from Calcutta. He will seek first chance to explain all to Pierre Lanier. Father and son then will determine what to do.

Disguised, Paul haunts the wharf. Neither Sir Charles nor Pierre Lanier arrives. Much perplexed, Paul nervously awaits the distribution of the mail, and receives a letter from his father. Eagerly tearing it open, he is startled by its contents.

Pierre had written:

"Take first steamer. Important business here. Come in old suit."

It is sure that something serious is contemplated. Such guarded allusion to Paul's former disguise tells of some proposed desperate job.

Paul makes hurried preparations for departure.

Soon after on a mail steamer sails a stooped old man with long beard, and known on ship as "Josiah Peters."