Yet by the time he reached the top of the terrace steps reaction had set in, and he began to think that his brain could not have lost all its cunning. For, unless in the very improbable event of Mrs. Talmage Eglinton having found out something about the mysterious Ziegler through occupying the next suite to him since yesterday, she must still be the heart and core of the evil influence he had to combat. Without knowledge she would not have been in a position to warn; and, like the Duke, how could she have obtained knowledge without complicity? Why, too, should she also be unwilling to use her knowledge openly? No, he came back to the opinion that there must originally have been one gigantic plot against Senator Sherman’s precious charge, and that there must have been a split in the camp; but from which section, or whether by both sections, the Duke was threatened was an irritating conundrum. Anyhow, Sybil Hanbury’s peril assumed ugly shape again in the General’s mind. "The woman must have sent it to mislead—to throw dust in my eyes," he murmured, not knowing that he spoke aloud. And following up that train of reasoning he found it grow into conviction. The letter was not really anonymous. That is to say, the writer had been at particular pains to disclose her identity by means of the scent if General Sadgrove deemed the communication sent to his wife of sufficient importance to investigate. The letter had been despatched, he now felt assured, with the express purpose of whitewashing the sender in the event of any further "accident" happening to the Duke. In short, he was of opinion that Mrs. Talmage Eglinton had suspected his manoeuvre at the hotel, and had devised this method of hoodwinking him, and of diverting his vigilance from herself during her forthcoming visit if her suspicions were correct. The craftiness of the idea was obvious, and the General was beginning to be delighted with his perspicacity when, lo and behold, the whole fabric crumbled again, from a flaw at the very base of the structure. It was inconceivable that Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, if she was guilty of criminal intent, should have directed his thoughts to Ziegler, who, if not a confederate, was certainly part and parcel of the mystery. "Too many women in it," he growled, testily, unaware, in the brown study into which he had fallen, that he had seated himself in one of the cane chairs round about the tea-table at which Sybil Hanbury was already presiding. He was also unconscious that he had expressed himself audibly—at least, so far as concerned Sybil, who at that moment happened to be handing him his cup. Indeed, he repeated the phrase, the sentiment of it growing in vigor from the sight of Leonie Sherman listening to Beaumanoir’s description of his ancestral home, and of Mrs. Sherman and Mrs. Sadgrove talking to Alec Forsyth.