"I think not, Morton," he said. "Examine it for yourself." de Cartienne moved round to my side, with nervously twitching lips and an ugly light in his eyes. "One moment, Morton," he said. "I won't keep it longer." I laid a hand upon it, and pushed him back with the other. "My turn first, please. Isn't that so, Dr. Randall?" He nodded genially, not noticing the suppressed excitement in de Cartienne's manner. "Certainly. I'm glad to find you both so interested in it. Let me know about this mistake at lunch-time, Morton," he added, smiling. "I'm going for a stroll round the garden now, and I should advise you to do the same. We've had a close morning's work." He rose and left the room. de Cartienne watched the door close and then turned to me. "Morton," he said quickly, "I want that envelope. There are some memoranda on the reverse side which concern my private affairs. I need not say more, I suppose." "Keep your hands to yourself, de Cartienne!" I answered, shaking him off. "I shall not give you the envelope till I have examined it." "You cad!" he hissed out, his voice shaking with fury. "How dare you attempt to pry into my private affairs? Give me the envelope, or I'll----" "You'll what?" I answered, standing up, putting the envelope in my pocket and facing him. "Look here, de Cartienne, I'm not going to attempt to justify my conduct to you. On the face of it, it may seem to be taking a mean advantage, but I don't care a fig about that. I've made up my mind what to do, and all the blustering in the world won't make me alter it. I am going to look at the reverse side of this envelope. You----" I ceased and with good reason, for, with a sudden, panther-like spring, he had thrown himself upon me, and his slender white fingers were grasping at my throat. It was a brief struggle, but a desperate one, for he clung to me with a strength which seemed altogether out of proportion to his slim body and long, thin arms. I was in no mood for trifling, however, and, suddenly putting forth all my strength, I seized him by the middle, and sent him backwards, with a crash of fallen furniture, into a corner of the room. Before he could recover himself, I drew out the envelope from my pocket and looked at it. There was nothing on the reverse side but the address and the postmark. They were quite sufficient for me, however. The postmark was Mellborough and the handwriting was the peculiar, cramped handwriting of Mr. Marx. CHAPTER XXXII. FORESTALLED. For a full minute neither of us moved. Then de Cartienne rose slowly to his feet and walked to the door. "Here, take this!" I said, holding out the envelope towards him. "The private memoranda upon it may be useful to you." He snatched it from my fingers and tore it into atoms. Then he walked quietly away, with an evil look upon his face.