"You had nothing to complain about regarding Titeroff, and the assistance he and Mayhew gave you--eh?" "Nothing. Without them I could never have acted. Indeed, I could never have approached the Minister Petkoff." "Yes," he remarked reflectively. "They're both wily birds. Titeroff feathered his nest well when he was in Constantinople, and Mayhew is there because of a little bit of serious trouble in Genoa a couple of years ago. Of course you never mentioned my name--eh?" "I only mentioned you as Mr. Goodwin--as you told me," I replied. He smiled. "They remembered me, of course?" "Yes, when I delivered your note of introduction to Titeroff, he at once made me welcome, and seemed much surprised that I was acquainted with his friend, Mr. Goodwin." It was now evident, as I had suspected, that the two men who were so eager to serve me were international crooks, and members of the great gang which Rayne controlled. "Just describe the man Vassos as fully as you can," urged Rayne. In consequence I went into a minute description of the fussy old Greek, to which Rayne listened most interestedly. "Yes," he said at last. "But tell me one thing. Did you notice if he had any deformity?" "Well--he walked with a distinct limp." "And his hand?" "The little finger on his left hand was deformed," I replied. "I now remember it." "Ah!" he cried in instant anger. "As I thought! It was old Boukaris--the sly old devil. How, I wonder, did he know that I had sent you to Sofia? He, no doubt, saved you by putting that mark on your hand, Hargreave; but the brutes have been one too many for me, and have done me down!" CHAPTER XVI THE MAN WHO WAS SHY Some two months after that curious experience in Sofia, we were guests of some friends of Rayne's called Baynes, who lived at Enderby Manor, a few miles out of Winchester. The reason of our visit was somewhat obscure, yet as far as I could gather it had no connection with "business." So Rayne, Lola, and myself spent a very pleasant four days with one of the most charming families I think I have ever met. Enderby was a beautiful old place lying back in a great park and surrounded by woods, half-way between Winchester and Romsey, and George Baynes, who had made a fortune in South America, and whose wife was a Brazilian lady, was a splendid host. One bright afternoon Rayne had gone off somewhere with Mr. Baynes, so I found Lola and we both went for a stroll in the beautiful woods. For a long time we chatted merrily, when, of a sudden--I don't exactly know how it happened--but I took her hand, and, looking straight into her eyes, I declared my passion for her. I must have taken her unawares, for she drew back with a strange, half-frightened expression. Her breath came and went in quick gasps, and when she found her tongue, she replied: "No, George. It is impossible--quite impossible!" "Why?" I demanded quickly. "I love you, Lola. Can you never reciprocate my affection?"