"And you know also a man named Archer--who is sometimes known as Hornby, or Woodroffe--as well as a friend of his called Chater." "Si, signore," he said. "I have met them all--to my regret." "And have you ever met a Russian--a certain Baron Oberg--and his niece, Elma Heath?" "His niece? She isn't his niece." "Then who is she?" I demanded. "How do I know? I have seen her once or twice. But she's dead, isn't she? She knew the secret of those men, and they intended to kill her. I tried to prevent them taking her away on the yacht, and I would have gone to the police--only I dare not." "Why?" "Well, because my own hands were not quite clean," he answered after a pause, his eyes fixed upon mine the while. "I knew they intended to silence her, but I was powerless to save her, poor young lady. They took her on board Leithcourt's yacht, the _Iris_, and they sailed for the Mediterranean, I believe." "Then the name and appearance of the yacht was altered on the voyage, and it became the _Lola_," I said. "No doubt," he smiled. "The _Iris_ was a steamer of many names, and had, I believe, been painted nearly all the colors of the rainbow at various times. It was a mysterious vessel, but she exists no more. They scuttled her somewhere up in the Baltic, I've heard." "And who is this Oberg?" I inquired, urging him to reveal to me all he knew concerning him. "He stands in great fear of the poor young lady, I believe, for it was at his instigation that Leithcourt and his friends took her on that fatal yachting cruise." "And what was your connection with them?" "Well, I was Leithcourt's servant," was his reply. "I was steward on the _Iris_ for a year, until I suppose they thought that I began to see too much, and then I was placed in a position ashore." "And what did you see?" "More than I care to tell, signore. If they were arrested I should be arrested, too, you see." "But I mean to solve this mystery, Olinto," I said fiercely, for I was in no trifling mood. "I'll fathom it if it costs me my life." "If the signore solves it himself, then I cannot be charged with revealing the truth," was the man's diplomatic reply. "But I fear that they are far too wary." "Armida has lost her life. Surely that is sufficient incentive for you to bring them all to justice?" "Of course. But if the law falls upon them, it will also fall upon me." I explained the terrible affliction to which my love had been subjected by those heartless brutes, whereupon he cried enthusiastically: "Then she is not dead! She can tell us everything!" "But cannot you tell us?" "No; not all. The secret she knows has never been revealed. They feared she might be incautious, and for that reason Oberg made the villainous suggestion of the yachting trip. She was to be drowned--accidentally, of course." "She is in St. Petersburg now. I left her a week ago."