I came to my senses to find myself in Charing Cross Hospital. And when I feebly opened my eyes the first object to catch my sight was Armand Hecq, seated at my bedside placidly reading a book. Hearing my gasp of astonishment, he turned to me. "Ah, _mon cher_ Gerald, so you are awake at last," he said cheerily. "How are you feeling?" "Very shaky," I whispered. "What has happened? Ah, yes, I remember now," I said, as a flood of recollections swept over me. "Is it all right? Have you got van Rosen and Easterbrook?" "Everything is quite satisfactory, my dear Gerald," replied Hecq. "I will tell you all about it when you are stronger." But, weak though I was, I could not bear the suspense. "Tell me at once. Monsieur Hecq, I beg of you, or I shall never rest." And Hecq, choosing the lesser of two evils, decided to unburden himself. "Van Rosen and Easterbrook are both dead," he said. "The bomb which rendered you unconscious struck Easterbrook's house and killed them both. Mrs Easterbrook is terribly injured, but is alive, and will probably recover. Madame Gabrielle is quite safe, and Aubert, who was watching near you, was sheltered from the explosion by a projecting wall and was only badly shaken. He telephoned me at once, and I fortunately caught a train which was just leaving, and here I am. You have been unconscious for a day and a half." "What about the Dutch sailor?" I managed to gasp out in my astonishment. "Oh," replied Hecq, "we got him all right, with the plan in his possession. He has made a clean breast of everything. The plans were to have been photographed down to microscopic size and the films taken over to Cauvin sewn into his clothing. Two of my men are on their way to arrest Cauvin at once." But Cauvin proved too quick for us. As the agents of the Surete approached his house he must have recognised them and realised that the game was up. Directly they intimated to him that he was under arrest he snatched a revolver from his pocket and shot himself before their eyes. I have no doubt the result would have been the same if he had received the violet-scented card, which now, with the bogus invitation to the Easterbrook wedding, remains one of my cherished mementoes of one of the most fascinating of the many mysteries I have helped to unravel.