"The game is up," he cried fiercely, "and here is the traitor." Like lightning he stooped down and I saw something in his hand flash before my eyes. There was a strange burning pain and then everything faded away before my sight. I heard the door beaten down and the sound of my rescuers streaming in. Then all sound became concentrated in a confused roar, which throbbed for a moment in my ears and then died away. Unconsciousness crept in upon me. When I opened my eyes again I found myself lying upon a bed in a strange room. By my side was my father, leaning back in a low, easy chair. "Where am I?" I asked. "How long have I been here! Tell me all about it." My father stood up with a little exclamation of relief. "Better, Philip? That is well. You are at the nearest decent hotel we could find last night, or rather this morning." "Tell me all about it," I cried. "Everyone was taken except de Cartienne. He fought like a tiger and got off. But it is only for a while. He will be caught. His description----" "His description will be of no use at all," I interrupted, breathlessly. "Has anything been heard of Mr. Marx?" My father picked up an open telegram from the table by his side. "Mr. Marx has gone back to Ravenor. This telegram is from the stationmaster at Mellborough." I leapt from the bed and plunged my still aching head into a basin of water. "What is the matter, Philip? You will be ill again if you excite yourself," my father said wondering. "I'm all right," I answered. "What is the time?" "Four o'clock." "Quick, then, and we shall catch the five o'clock train to Mellborough," I urged. "To Mellborough! But how about de Cartienne?" "de Cartienne! He exists no longer! It is Marx we want." Then the truth broke in upon my father, and he sprang to his feet with a low cry. "Philip, why did you not tell me before?" "I only knew last night for certain. Thank God, I kept it to myself. He thinks himself safe as Mr. Marx--safer than flying the country as the Count de Cartienne--the villain!" Suddenly my father stopped short on his way to the door. "Philip," he said hoarsely, "do you remember whom we left at Ravenor waiting for Mr. Marx?" For the moment I had forgotten it. We looked at one another and there crept into my mind the vision of a gaunt, desperate man, his white face and burning eyes filled with an unutterable fiendish longing. The same thought filled us both. If Mr. Marx made use of his private keys and went straight to the library at the castle, what would come of it? I laid my hand upon my father's arm. "There is justice in the world after all," I said hoarsely. "That man will kill him." Then we went out together without another word. CHAPTER LV. THE MYSTERY OF MR. MARX.