"You are safe to refuse, Mrs. Warburton. You need not comply with any instructions they may give you henceforth. Let me have that note." "But--" "I must have it, in order to save you. I must know where to find these people." She looked at him inquiringly, and put the note into his hand. "Thank you," he said. "Has Van Vernet visited this house, to your knowledge?" "He has." "And he saw--" "No one. I obtained my information from a servant. He sent up his card to Alan, who refused to meet him." "Ah!" Stanhope turned toward the door, putting the note in his pocket as he did so. Suddenly he paused, his eyes resting upon the portrait of Alan Warburton. "That is very imprudent," he said. "I--I don't understand." "That picture. It must be removed." Then turning sharply toward her: "Are there other pictures of Mr. Alan Warburton in this house?" "No; this is the only recent portrait." He sat down and looked at the picture intently. "Van Vernet has been here, you tell me. Can he have seen _that_?" Fully alive now to the delicacy and danger of the situation, Leslie lifted her hand and turned toward the door. "Wait," she said, and went swiftly out. "So," muttered Stanhope, as he again contemplated the picture, "a square foot of canvas can spoil all my plans. If Van has seen _this_, my work becomes doubly hard, and Warburton's case a desperate one." While he pondered, Leslie came softly back, and stood before him. "It is as bad as you feared," she said, tremulously. "Van Vernet was received in this very room, the servant tells me. He saw the picture, examined it closely, and asked the name of the original." "Then," said Stanhope, rising, "the picture need not be removed. It has done all the mischief it can. To remove it now would only make a suspicion a certainty. Listen, madam, and as soon as possible report what I tell you to Alan Warburton. A short time ago, Mamma Francoise and one of her tools left the note I hold, at your basement-door. Van Vernet, who was watching near here, saw them and followed them." "Oh!" "He has seen that picture. Tell your brother-in-law that Van Vernet has seen it and, doubtless, has traced the resemblance between it and the fugitive Sailor; tell him that Vernet is now on the track of the Francoises, who, if found, will be used to convict him of murder." "But--Alan is not guilty." "Are you _sure_ of that?" "I--I--" She faltered and was silent. "Mrs. Warburton," he asked, slowly, "do you know _who_ struck that blow?" She trembled violently, and her face turned ashen white. "I can't tell! I don't know!" she cried wildly. "It was a moment of confusion, but--it was not--oh, no, no, it was _not_ Alan!" Not a little surprised at this incoherent outburst, Stanhope looked her keenly in the face, a new thought taking possession of his mind.