The question was uttered in a musing tone, as though he were asking it of himself. He continued to write for four or five minutes, and having completed his task, he read what he had written, folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Then he turned to Kiss and Mr. Linton. "You have nothing more to say?" "Nothing." "You delight in dramatic surprises?" he said, addressing Linton, with a radiant look. "If they are new to the stage," replied the bewildered dramatic author, "they are invaluable." "I may supply you with one. It is just on the cards." He now addressed Kiss as well as Mr. Linton. "Our interview is at an end. What I wish you to do is to so arrange matters that we can at any moment lay hands upon Mrs. Pamflett, her son, and the woman who is implicated in the theft of the diamond bracelet. Do you think you can manage it?" "I will answer for that." "When you came here to-night," he said, earnestly, "you reproached yourself for being the cause of an innocent girl being sentenced to death for a murder she did not commit. You went back, as it were, to first causes. It is likely--almost certain, indeed, so much depends upon chance--that if you had not come, the inspiration which may mean salvation would not have descended upon me. To you, therefore, if all ends as I fervently pray it may, will belong the credit of directing justice aright. Humanly administered, it is sometimes fallible." "Mr. Garden," said Kiss, in a voice no less earnest than that of the young lawyer, "I have not the slightest idea of your meaning, but you have won my esteem, and I honour you with all my heart and soul." "I thank you," said the young lawyer, with dignity and courtesy; "what you kindly accord to me is worth the winning. Good-night." When Kiss and Mr. Linton were gone, Garden said to Fred: "I am deeply, truly in earnest. For a little while leave the direction of this affair entirely in my hands. Give me your promise." "I give it, Dick, old fellow, cheerfully." "I am going now to the office of a newspaper, the editor of which I am acquainted with. I shall take a cab there and back. Unless some urgent necessity arises, do not leave the rooms till I return." * * * * * The next morning, in the columns of one daily London newspaper, the following interesting item found a place: