Inquiries made of the hotel staff proved that just after his niece had gone out a boy had arrived with a note requiring an answer, and had been shown up to Mr. Lloyd's room. The old gentleman wrote the answer, and the boy left with it. To whom the answer was addressed was not known. The only person seen in the corridor afterwards was a guest who occupied a room close by, a Spaniard named Larroca. I recollected the name. It was the man I had seen at the Unicorn at Ripon! I made discreet inquiries, and discovered that Madame Martoz was living in the hotel. The truth was plain. I longed to denounce them, but in fear I held my secret. Old Mr. Lloyd hovered between life and death for a week, when at last he recovered, but to this day he cannot account for the mysterious seizure. I, however, know that it was due to a certain secret colorless liquid with which the gum upon the envelope I had addressed to myself had been painted over by Duperre. The old gentleman had licked it, and within five minutes he had fallen unconscious. When he was sufficiently well to be shown his dispatch-box he grew frantic. In it had been his cheque-book containing four signed cheques, as it was his habit to send weekly cheques to the woman who acted as housekeeper at his flat at Hove, which, by the way, he very seldom visited. By some means Rayne had got to know of this, and by that clever ruse his accomplice got possession of the cheques, and ere the old man could wire to London to stop payment, all four had been cashed for large amounts without question. Rayne and his friends netted nearly ten thousand pounds, but to this day old Mr. Lloyd entertains no suspicion. CHAPTER XI THE GENTLEMAN FROM ROME I knew that my love for Lola was increasing, yet I did not know whether my affection was really reciprocated. We were close friends, but that was all. I was seated with her in the pretty morning-room one day about a fortnight after my return from Madrid, when the footman entered with a card. "Mr. Rayne is not in, sir. Will you see the gentleman?" "_Cav. Enrico Graniani--Roma_," was the name upon the card. "He's a stranger, sir. I've never seen him before," the servant added. "I wonder who he is?" asked Lola, looking over my shoulder at the card. "Father doesn't somehow like strangers, does he?" "No," I said. "But I'll see him. Show him into the library." When a few moments later I entered the room I found a tall, elegant, well-dressed Italian who, addressing me in very fair English, said: "I understand, signore, that Mr. Rayne is not in. I have come from Italy to see him, and I bring an introduction from a mutual friend. You are his secretary, I believe?" I replied in the affirmative, and took the note which he handed me. "I will give it to Mr. Rayne when he returns to-morrow," I promised him. "Where shall he write to in order to make an appointment?"