"Ask no questions," I replied, smiling mysteriously. "A purely private matter." "Hum!--those private matters are entertaining, sometimes," remarked Ted, as he and Bob laughed at my confusion; but as Demetrius returned just at that moment, the subject dropped. We went to the smoking-room and sat chatting over coffee and liqueurs, but I noticed a marked difference in the manner of Rivers. He was no longer gay, but gloomy and taciturn, and more than once I caught him regarding me with an evil, angry glitter in his dark eyes, and a scowl upon his features. The others noticed it also, but made no remark. When the clock chimed ten Ted rose, and addressing Nugent, said: "You must excuse me, old fellow, but I've an engagement which I must keep. Sorry to have to leave you so early, but it's a matter of rather urgent business." "Oh, no. Stay another hour; the evening's young yet," urged Demetrius. "Very sorry; but I cannot." "Put off your engagement till to-morrow," I suggested, but he made no reply, affecting not to have heard me. "Well, if you must go, _au revoir_," Bob said, offering his hand. "I'm here every evening, so I hope you'll often drop in, now you have returned to civilisation." "Thanks, I shall be glad to accept your hospitality until I can be re-elected a member." He shook hands with Demetrius, but only placed the tips of his fingers in my hand, withdrawing them as if he were touching some unclean thing. Without wishing me good-night, he departed. An hour afterwards I returned to the hotel in deep soliloquy, wondering what this latest development meant. What connection could Rivers have with the murder of the woman whose photograph I had in my pocket? Why did he start on seeing the picture, and afterwards deny all knowledge of its original? Why did he eye me so suspiciously? Was he the murderer of the dead man's wife, the unfortunate Nell, who was found killed by an unknown hand, on the night after my return from Russia? Deeply exercised in mind over this increased complication, I sat in my room until the small hours, then--heartily sick of it all--I sought repose. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. DOUBTS AND FEARS. "You seemed so out of sorts last night, Frank, old chap, that I thought I'd just drop in and see whether you could be cheered up a bit." "You're very kind, Bob," I said, cracking a matutinal egg, for I was breakfasting; "I'm afraid it's a little more serious than being out of sorts just now." Bob laid his hand kindly upon my shoulder, exclaiming earnestly,-- "That's exactly what I expected. You and I used to be old chums--now, is it so private that you can't confide in me, and let me see what I can do, if anything?" "The fact is I'm just desperate, and don't know which way to turn for the best," was my answer, with a savage curse to myself.