He staggered to his feet. Jules stood in the background. There was something of the old obsequiousness about his manner. Mr. Somers-Keyne swayed for a moment upon his feet. Then Lavendale felt a sudden inspiration. He turned on his heel. 'Excuse me for one moment,' he whispered to the girl by his side. He turned away with no show of haste, though the eyes of both men seemed to follow him. Then he ran down the stairs on tiptoe, taking them three at a time as he neared the ground floor. The motor-car was drawn up outside, there was no sign of any one else in the street. He sprang to the other side of the way and saw at once the object of his pursuit, hurrying down towards the Embankment. He followed her as stealthily as possible. Without looking around she increased her own pace, crossed the Embankment and leaned for a moment over the wall. A few yards further on were the steps and a little pier, and close by a small tug was waiting. Lavendale, who was within reach of her now, stretched out his hand and seized her shoulder. 'I want you, Miss Brown!' he exclaimed. She turned and confronted him, her face mottled and flushed with the unusual exercise, a strand of her unwholesome-looking hair hanging down to her shoulder. 'Now what's wrong with you?' she shouted. 'Can't you leave me alone? I'm not coming back.' 'Where are you going?' he asked. 'That's none of your business,' she snapped. 'Let me pass.' He glanced at the tug and his hand closed upon her wrist. He was a strong man, but she almost succeeded in wrenching herself free. 'Look here, Miss Brown,' he said, 'the game's up. I want that paper you're keeping for Jules.' She suddenly showed her teeth. Her face was like the face of a wild animal. She struggled so violently that they swayed towards the parapet. Her left hand slipped into the bosom of her gown. Before he could stop her, her fingers were making pulp of the paper which she had drawn up in crushed fragments. She threw it over the parapet into the black water. Then she ceased to struggle. She laughed hysterically and leaned back against the wall. The water near where the fragments of paper had fallen was all churned up--the little tug had hurried off. 'Clever, ain't you?' she mocked. 'Any need to hold on to me any more?' He released her wrist. The car had come thundering down the little street. It suddenly pulled up with a grinding of brakes. Suzanne sprang lightly out. 'The formula?' she cried. He pointed downwards to the water. 'Destroyed!' Her sigh was almost one of relief. 'Was there a tug here?' she asked eagerly. He nodded. 'It made off when they saw us struggling.' 'He told the truth, then!' she exclaimed. 'Jules shot himself as soon as he realized that the game was up--there in the room before me, a few minutes ago. He told me with his last breath that the formula was on its way down the river to Germany.' Lavendale smiled grimly.