LITMIR.BIZ

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I reached the Gare du Nord in good time, and my train set me down just about six o'clock at Bévallon.

      I found a brougham waiting for me. I entered it and told the man to take me to the Château Laroque.

      The sun had just set, and a watery moon was creeping up the sky. As I drove along I could see stretches of marsh and waste land intersected by dykes. The air was damp, and a rising mist rendered distant objects indistinct. Presently the road took a sharp turn and the old Château burst into view. I can vividly recall my impressions as I first saw it. It was a well-preserved feudal fortress, lying in a hollow, and with a wide moat surrounding it. The Château was of the typical Norman type, with round bastions at each corner and surrounded by battlements.

      As the carriage drew up at the drawbridge, I alighted, entered the courtyard, and was about to advance to the principal entrance, when, to my amazement, my eyes fell upon the figure of Mademoiselle Francesca Delacourt. She was talking to an elderly man, but when she saw me she came quietly forward, smiling as she did so.

      "Ah, Mr. Phenays!" she exclaimed.

      "By all that is wonderful," I could not help answering, "how is it that I see you here?"

      "You see me here for a very natural reason," was her answer. "I am staying in the house with my godfather. I have known him all my lifetime. You will like him, Mr. Phenays. He is a great chemist, and is making some investigations at the present time for me, for my hobby is also chemistry. The fact is, I am proud to tell you I have made a small discovery which may be of use to the world. M. Laroque is helping me to perfect it. But come, Mr. Phenays, I must not keep you talking any longer; follow me, will you?"

      Her manner was courteous and friendly, but a strange despondency came over me as I talked to her, and the comfort which I had hitherto experienced, in the receipt of M. Laroque's letter, gave place to a strange feeling of unaccountable distrust.

      Mademoiselle led the way into the old house. We passed down several dark passages, and then paused outside a door covered with green baize. This she flung open, and going in before me, invited me to follow.

      Seated by a log fire was an old man, whose bent back and long, grey hair were all I could see.

      "How do you do, M. Laroque?" I said, bending towards him. "I have answered your letter in person. I am Mr. Phenays."

      As I spoke I noticed that Mademoiselle had left the room. I looked at my host, expecting a word of welcome. He was silent for a moment, then he said gravely—

      "This is Francesca's doing. But it is good of you, Mr. Phenays, to come."

      "Mademoiselle's doing!" I could not help interrupting.

      "Yes; she happened to be present when poor Escott died, and gave me to understand that he had imparted a somewhat serious matter to you. If so, we shall have something to discuss, and I hope you will forgive the liberty a complete stranger takes in summoning you here."

      "But there is no liberty," I replied. "On the contrary, I cannot tell you how grateful I am. Poor Escott spoke to me of you on his deathbed, and asked me to communicate with you immediately. He said that he had left a letter addressed to you in his cabinet. I could not find it, and, did not know your address, therefore was unable to write to you. Your letter to-day, therefore, makes all straight. I am much relieved."

      "I presume, Mr. Phenays, you are now on your way to London, in order to hand on the communication which Escott made to you to the right quarter?"

      "I am returning to London," I answered. "But an unfortunate thing happened. Poor Escott's secret was never confided to me; he was about to tell it when he was interrupted."

      "How?"

      "Miss Delacourt, in what I consider an unwarrantable way, burst into the room. The shock killed him."

      "Francesca was always impulsive," said the old man. He paused for a moment and his face looked downcast. "Is it really true," he said then, "that you know nothing?"

      "Nothing," I replied.

      "And yet someone must act, and at once," continued M. Laroque. "The matter is of vital importance. If I were not a cripple, I could—but there, I am powerless. God only knows what the consequences may be if those scoundrels——"

      He broke off, a faint streak of colour in his face.

      "Well, sir, I am glad to see you. Your coming is opportune. You will, of course, remain for the night."

      "I have come prepared to do so."

      "That is well. After dinner I will tell you what I know."

      He rang the bell, which was close to his side. An old servant in faded livery appeared. He took me to a room on the second floor. I changed into my dinner dress and came downstairs. I found my host and Mademoiselle in the room. The meal was announced. The old servant Paul gave his arm to my host and conducted him to the head of the table. During dinner Francesca Delacourt led the conversation. She spoke well in excellent French. My host now and then looked at her with an affectionate smile. She was, beyond doubt, a handsome and attractive woman.

      We dined simply, and when the meal came to an end Laroque turned to his god-daughter.

      "Francesca," he said, "Mr. Phenays and I are going to the laboratory. We are about to have an important conversation. Can you do without us for a time?"

      "Of course I can," she answered. "But, godfather, the laboratory is too damp for you just now. I must go down first and see that it is comfortable."

      "Very well, my dear. Turn on the electric light. The room is thoroughly warm, and your idea with regard to its being damp, is—pardon my saying it—nonsense."

      She shook her head and her eyes met mine fully. There was something in their glance which again brought back that intense sensation of discomfort and uneasiness which her presence had before produced. She went as far as the door, then she turned and looked at me again.

      Her second glance caused a curious tingling in my spine. As I write these words I recall that queer look. There was a strange expression round her mouth, a slight narrowing of her dark, almond-shaped eyes—a peculiar smile, which first lit up the gloomy depths of her eyes, hovered round her lips, and vanished.

      A moment later I had forgotten about her, being much entertained by my host's conversation. We chatted for a few minutes, then he turned to me.

      "If you will walk down the passage outside this room, Mr. Phenays, and open a baize door at the end, you will find some steps. Pray go down the stairs to the laboratory. I shall be with you in a moment or two."

      I immediately proceeded to carry out his instructions. I walked down the passage, opened the baize door, and went downstairs. The whole of the castle was lit with electric light. It looked strangely out of place in this Norman fortress; but Laroque was nothing if not scientific, and the latest improvements in science were, he assured me, always to be found in his house. As I entered the laboratory I started to see that Mademoiselle Delacourt was there. She was bending over a cylinder. When I appeared she hastily pushed it behind a velvet curtain; then she turned, looked at me, and smiled.

      "I will leave you and my godfather to your business," she said, and she went away without waiting for me to speak to her.

      Curiosity impelled me to walk to the curtain and push it back, in order to see what was behind it. Only two cylinders, which might have contained anything, but were now empty. I vaguely wondered why they were there, and what Mademoiselle Delacourt was doing with them. A weight of gloom and nervousness overpowered me, but my host's footsteps caused me to pull myself together, and the next instant he entered the room.

      "Ah," he said, sinking with a sigh into his easy-chair. "Do you know, Phenays, that this is one of the finest laboratories in the neighbourhood of Paris. Here I do all my scientific work. I am quite quiet here and undisturbed; anyone would think a place of this sort would be damp, for it is only just above the level of the moat, but in reality it is not."

      "The air of the room is quite warm and dry," I answered.

      "Yes,

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