This was another side of the character of Leo Bergin. Mentally, I was in what may, I think with some propriety, be termed a state of deeply interested confusion. I unrolled and exposed to view the whole package. It was voluminous. It was composed of some twenty writing tablets, each with a large number of thin sheets, foolscap size. These tablets were consecutively numbered, the pages were closely written on one side, the first few being in a round neat hand, the skill rather weakening as the work proceeded. I was too eager for a general inspection to deliberately peruse any particular portion or feature of the whole, but there was a sufficient mass of what seemed by the painstaking methods to make a large volume. But the mystery still deepened. Where, for what purpose, and under what circumstances, was the work done? There were here and there strange names of places, strange personages and strange events recorded. Was Leo Bergin mad? or was there, in fact, somewhere passing events that were indeed stranger to us than fiction? My cigar went out, the fire had "followed suit," I looked at my watch with some impatience, and it showed the "wee sma' hours" had come. I was perplexed, paced the floor, and looking out into the street, I saw how the gusts of wind drove the snow and sleet along with the fury of a demon. I shuddered as I paced the floor, but how could I unravel the mystery, the mystery that perplexed me? "Back into my chamber turning, all my soul within me burning," I said again, "Where is the key?" for Leo Bergin had talent and ambition, and while he seemed erratic, he was no visionary dreamer. While Leo Bergin lacked a sense of proportion, even in his foibles he was practical, and had at least one eye on the main chance. "No," said I, "Leo Bergin was no dreamer," he had no fads, no superstitions, and little imagination, and he was a true Bohemian. He had a "nose for news," a genius for work, and a love for adventure that all the fiends in and out of Hades could not thwart. But how could I unravel the mystery? Where the de'il had he been for two long years? Who was Symmes? And if Symmes had a hole, where was it? [Illustration: _The Hon. Sir Joseph Ward, K.C.M.G., Colonial Secretary, Minister of Railways, Minister of Commerce and Industries, Postmaster-General, with Telegraphs, Minister in charge of Tourist and Health Resorts, and Minister of Public Health. Rather complex, but Sir Joseph's abilities are as versatile as his duties are varied._]