Dr. Varney went slowly and thoughtfully back to the house after seeing Jessie start on her adventure. The brilliant old scientist had ample food for thought as he walked along. It was not as if he did not thoroughly grasp the situation. He had a reputation for something besides medicine; his practice largely lay amongst diplomatists and statesmen. Once, even, he had been summoned to a consultation on the illness of a king.

So that he knew most of the inner political game by heart. He could be bold and discreet at the same time. Very little of the scandal that hung over the Asturian throne like a blighting cloud was hidden from him. He could have placed his finger on the fatal blot at once.

In the library, Lord Merehaven with Ronald Hope and Lechmere were still talking over matters. Sir Reginald Lancing had disappeared, to Varney's relief. The stricken old man had avowed himself to be better. He was sorry that he had obtruded his grief on his friends; he would like to go home at once; he did not wish for anybody to accompany him.

"All this is very irregular," Lord Merehaven was saying as Varney joined the group again and carefully closed the door behind him. "According to all precedent I should not discuss this matter with you gentlemen at all."

"But think what we may accomplish," Ronald said eagerly. "The whole scandal may be averted. I fancy that you can trust everybody here, my lord."

"I have been the recipient of a few secrets in my time," Lechmere said drily. "Lord Merehaven will not forget what my audacity accomplished in the Moscow case."

"Officially, I know nothing about it," Lord Merehaven murmured. "Officially——"

"Officially you know nothing about this matter," Lechmere interrupted with some impatience. "A Minister cannot hold himself responsible for the statements made in an irresponsible paper which is notoriously controlled by Americans. The Mercury suggests that certain papers have been stolen, and that one of the culprits has fled, whilst the other has committed suicide. Who shall say that Mr. Maxwell has fled? Certainly he has departed suddenly for Paris. Unfortunately, Captain Lancing has committed suicide. At the same time, it is a notorious fact that he has had heavy losses at cards and on the turf, which may account for everything. And as to those papers alleged to be stolen, why, Lord Merehaven had them in his own hands at seven o'clock to-night."

"An excellent piece of political logic," said Lord Merehaven. "I could not have given a better explanation from my place in the House. But I fear that if I were pressed to say that I had taken steps to discover if those papers were intact——. You see my position?"

"I must speak plainly," Lechmere went on. "It is any odds that the papers have gone. The thing has been arranged for some time; the house where the papers were to be handed over to the arch thief was actually fixed. The arch thief, taking the thing as a settled fact, gave a broad outline of what was going to happen to the editor of the Evening Mercury. He saw a chance of a 'scoop,' and decided to take the chance of the papers not being delivered. If there was a hitch at the last moment, Hunt could easily wriggle out of it. But the papers changed hands, and Hunt's bold plan was justified. Lancing saw the paragraph and shot himself."

"But why should he shoot himself?" Lord Merehaven asked.

"I fancy that is pretty obvious," Lechmere went on. "Lancing was betrayed. Don't you see that Hunt promised to-morrow to give a prÉcis of the stolen documents? If my deductions are correct, Lancing only borrowed the papers on the distinct understanding that they should be returned. Lancing had a large sum of money for that act of his. If we find that he had considerable cash about him I shall be certain. No sooner had he parted with the papers than he was coolly betrayed. The receiver of the papers simply laughed at him. Who was the receiver of the papers?"

"Some foe of England," Lord Merehaven said. "A Russian agent probably. If those papers are made public we shall have our trouble for our pains in Asturia, and Russia will buy the King of Asturia out. So far, I can see this thing quite plainly."

"You are right beyond a doubt, my lord," Lechmere went on. "With your permission I am going to locate exactly where those papers went. They went to a woman."

"I should doubt that," Lord Merehaven said. "I should doubt it very much indeed."

"Nevertheless, I am going to prove it to you," said Lechmere.

"Those papers must have been disposed of after seven o'clock to-night. By nine o'clock Lancing had read in print how he had been cruelly betrayed. Well, with all his faults, Lancing was a man of high courage. He had great physical strength as well. What did he do directly he read that paragraph and saw that he had been deluded. Did he go off and shoot himself at once? Not he! He got up from the dinner table of his club quite quietly and called a hansom. Obviously he was going to lose no time in seeing the person to whom he delivered the important State papers. Is that logic?"

The listeners standing round the fire-place admitted that it was. Interest was painted on every face.

"We know now that Lancing failed in his mission which was proved by the fact that he returned to his club and shot himself there. Now, I conclude that Lancing did not fail to find his deceiver. He would not have given up the search so easily as all that. It was not the man's character, nor could the deceiver have left London, because it was imperative that the same deceiver should be on the spot to watch the progress of events. My idea is that Lancing saw the deceiver and failed to get the papers back."

"Then where does his strength and courage come in?" Merehaven asked. "Remember that you began to draw a series of inferences from that same courage."

"I have not finished yet, my lord," Lechmere said quietly. "Lancing failed because his courage and personal strength was useless in this case. If he had been dealing with a man he would not have hesitated. But poor Lancing was seriously handicapped by the fact that he had a woman for his antagonist. You can't ill-treat a woman; you can't damage her features and knock her teeth out. And that is why Lancing failed. He saw the woman, and she laughed at him. She defied him to do his worst. He could not denounce her without proclaiming his own shame, and the clever woman traded on that. Therefore Lancing went and shot himself. What do you think of my argument?"

It was evident from the silence that followed that each of the little group was considerably impressed by the clear logic of the speaker's story. It was not often that Lechmere said so much, though his reputation was high, and more than one knotty trouble had been solved by him.

"Our friend is absolutely right," Varney said at length. "The more I think of it the more certain I am. Perhaps he can tell us the name of the woman?"

"That I am also in a position to do," Lechmere proceeded, without the slightest shade of triumph in his voice. "Accident helped me to that. In the hall some time ago there was a little scene between Countess Saens and her maid. The maid came to say that a strange robbery had taken place at the house of the countess. Nothing had been taken but papers from a certain drawer. Now I was close by and heard that, and I had a good opportunity of seeing that lady's face. Rage, anger, despair, murder almost, danced like so many devils in her dark eyes. The countess was quick to recover herself, but she had betrayed herself to me. I did not think so very much of this at the time, but when I subsequently saw the countess leave the house and subsequently find that she had gone off to have supper with Hunt of the Evening Mercury in a private room at the Carlton, I knew as well as if she had told me that she had met Hunt to tell him why she could not give him the chance of printing the crux of those stolen papers in the morning edition of the Mercury—for the simple reason that the papers had in turn been stolen from her."

Ronald Hope turned as if to speak, then as suddenly changed his mind. It would be a mistake to still further complicate matters at this junction, he thought.

"It was to Countess Saens that Lancing delivered those papers," Lechmere said finally. "Lord Merehaven looks dubious; but his lordship does not know, and I do, that the brilliant society creature, Countess Saens, is really one of the cleverest adventuresses in Europe—a police spy, passing as a kind of socialist and the rest. If I could see the King of Asturia——"

"You shall," Varney snapped out. "You shall see him before half an hour has passed. Stay where you are and—— Stop! Hope, keep an eye on Prince Mazaroff, and see that he does not leave the house."