"Bethmeyer!" I exclaimed. "What, old Sir Joseph Bethmeyer, the millionaire whom they call the mystery man of Europe, the man who is said to have a finger in every financial pie all over Europe?" "Yes, I guess it's the same man," replied our sprightly companion. "He lives at Frenbury Park, a splendid place between Hindhead and Farnham." What, I wondered, could they possibly want with Sir Joseph Bethmeyer, the man who had, it was said, been behind the ex-Emperor Carl in his endeavor to regain the throne of the Hapsburgs, and who was declared to be immensely wealthy, though the source of his great riches could never be discovered. I knew him from the photographs so frequently in the papers, a stout, full-bearded, Teutonic-looking man, who claimed Swedish nationality, and who frequently gave large sums to charity, apparently in order to propitiate the British Government, who were more than suspicious of his oft-repeated good intentions. At Houston's suggestion we stopped at a small hotel in Godalming, and there had supper, for it was yet early, and the American girl had dropped a hint that we should not go near Frenbury till past midnight. As we sat at table in a private room, I saw that she was exceedingly handsome, with a pair of coal-black eyes and a shrewd, alert expression, but her American accent was not always pronounced. Indeed, when she liked, she could conceal it altogether. She wore a fine diamond bracelet, her only ornament. Yet during our meal Houston whispered something to her, whereupon she half drew from beneath her fur coat something that glinted in the light, and I saw it was a very serviceable-looking revolver. A few moments later we heard a car pull up, and a heavy-booted man entered the hall of the hotel. The door of our room opened, and a thick-set, clean-shaven man of about forty glanced in inquisitively, almost instantly shutting the door again. Next second May Cranston sprang to her feet with blanched face and terrified eyes. "That's Hedley!--old Bethmeyer's secretary! If he's recognized me, then the game is up," she whispered hoarsely. "But did he?" queried Houston, who sat next to her. "I don't think he noticed anybody. He simply saw that this was a private party and withdrew. He's evidently gone to the bar." "He's on his way to Frenbury from London, no doubt," said the girl. "Don't go farther if you think there's any risk," Madame urged. "But it must be done, and to-night!" the girl said. "Remember I leave Liverpool to-morrow evening if there's trouble, and you--my mother--have got to see me off!"