He was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said abruptly in a thick voice: "I don't want any lunch. I want to think. Come up to my room when you've had your meal," and then, turning on his heel, he ascended in the lift. On going to his room after luncheon I found him standing by the window, with his hands in his pockets, looking blankly out upon the great square below. Close by, upon the writing-table, was a small medicine phial and a camel-hair brush, together with several pieces of paper. It struck me that he had painted one of the pieces with some of the colorless liquid, for, having dried, it was now crinkled in the center. "Look here, Hargreave," he said. "I want you to telephone to the girl Andrews and ask her to meet you this afternoon at four, say in the ladies' cafe in the Cafe Suzio, so that you can have tea together. When you've done that come back here." I obeyed, in wonder at what was intended. Then when I returned, he said: "Sit down and write a note to the old man, asking him to let you have his address so that you can collect any letters from the Ritz for him and forward them. He'll think it awfully kind of you. And enclose an envelope addressed to yourself; it will save him trouble." This I did, taking paper and envelope from the rack in front of me. I was about to address the envelope to myself, when he said: "That's too large, have this one! It will fit in the other envelope," and he took from the rack one of a smaller size which I used according to his suggestion. "Now," he said, "you go and take the girl out and I'll see that this letter is delivered--and that you get an answer." I met Sylvia, and we had quite a jolly tea together. Then, at five o'clock, I left her at the door of the Ritz, saying that I had sent a letter to her uncle asking for his address, and that knowing he would be very busy preparing to leave I would not come in. On entering the Hotel de la Paix the concierge handed me two letters, one from old Mr. Lloyd in reply to my note and the other that had been left for me by Duperre. "I have already left Madrid," he wrote briefly. "Whatever you hear, you know nothing, remember. Wait another week and then come home." I was not long in hearing something, for within a quarter of an hour Sylvia rang me up asking me to come round at once to the Ritz. In trepidation I took a taxi there and found old Mr. Lloyd in a state of unconsciousness, with a doctor at his side, Sylvia having found him lying on the floor of the sitting-room. The doctor told her that the old gentleman had apparently been seized by a stroke, but that he was very slowly recovering. Sylvia, however, pointed out that his dispatch-box had been broken open and rifled. What had been taken she had no idea.