He stopped short, as he realised that the controverting reason was Miss Dorothy Ravenden’s presence on the American side of the ocean. The reporter walked over and put his hand on Colton’s shoulder. His harsh voice softened to something of the tone that he used toward Helga, as he said: “My dear Colton, all the money in the world won’t do it. If it would, well,” with a sudden, rare smile, “I’m not sure I wouldn’t take yours, provided I needed it.” “Try it,” urged the other. “You don’t know how much those foreign experts may help you.” Haynes shook his head. “_O, terque quaterque beati, queis ante ora patrum contigit oppetere_,” he quoted. “That’s one of my few remnants of Virgil. It means a great deal to me. I shall not die in exile. Well, Colton, send for your brother.” “And what will you do?” “Stay here and work. There’s something in life besides pain when inexplicable strokes from the void kill men and sheep. I’m going over to do some more investigating.” “And I to wire my brother,” said Colton. “Don’t forget that ‘The Wonderful Whalley’ is to give his exhibition this evening.” They met at dinner, and before they had finished the juggler was announced. The whole party joined him outside, where he had been arranging his simple paraphernalia. Running to Helga, he dropped on his knee in exaggerated and theatrical courtliness. “Mademoiselle, I am your adoring slave for always,” he said, lifting his brilliant, unsteady eyes to her for a moment. “Weeth your kind permission I exheebit my powers.” He led them to the barnyard, where there was a favourable open space, and began with some simple acrobatics. His audience was Mr. and Mrs. Johnston, Helga, Haynes, Colton, and the servants. Professor Ravenden and his daughter had not returned. After the acrobatics came sleight-of-hand with cards and handkerchiefs. “Now I show you ze real genius,” said the performer. From his belt he drew the two heavy blades which had so interested Haynes. These he supplemented with smaller knives, until he held half a dozen in hand. Facing the great barn door, he dexterously slanted a card into the air. As it rose he poised one of the smaller knives. Down came the card, paralleling the surface of the door. Swish! The knife shot through the air and nailed the card to the wood. Another card flew. Thud! It was pinned fast. A third, less accurately reckoned, fluttered by one corner. “Now, ze ace of hearts!” cried the juggler. “We shall face it.” Forward he flipped it. It turned in air, showing the central spot. It struck the door at a slight angle and was about turning when the knife met it Straight through the single heart passed the blade. “The Wonderful Whalley” struck an attitude. “Well, by Jove!” exclaimed Colton. “I’ve seen knife-play in Mexico by the best of the Greasers, but nothing like this.”