"Yes," mused the Assistant Commissioner--"he transferred to Egypt--a very good appointment, as you say. That, again, was before my term of office, but there were a number of very ghastly crimes connected with the case and it was more or less definitely established, I believe, that some extensive secret society did actually exist throughout the East, governed, I fancy, by a Chinaman." "And from China," added Dunbar. "Yes, yes, from China as you say, Inspector." He turned to Gaston Max. "Can it really be, M. Max, that we have to deal with an upcrop of some deeply-seated evil which resides in the Far East? Are all these cases, not the work of individual criminal but manifestations of a more sinister, a darker force?" Gaston Max met his glance and Max's mouth grew very grim. "I honestly believe so." he answered. "I have believed it for nearly two years--ever since the Grand Duke died. And now, you said, I remember, that you had made a note the nature of which you would communicate." "Yes," replied the Assistant Commissioner--"a small point, but one which may be worthy of attention. This ray, Dr. Stuart, which played such havoc in your study--do you know of anything approaching to it in more recent scientific devices?" "Well," said Stuart, "it my be no more than a development of one of several systems, notably of that of the late Henrik Ericksen upon which he was at work at the time of his death." "Exactly." The Assistant Commissioner smiled in his most Mephistophelean manner. "Of the late Henrik Ericksen, as you say." He said no more for a moment and sat smoking and looking from face to face. Then: "That is the subject of my note, gentlemen," he added. "The other _minutiae_ are of no immediate importance." "_Non d'un p'tit bonhomme!_" whispered Gaston Max. "I see! You think that Ericksen had completed his experiments before he died, but that he never lived to give them to the world?" The Assistant Commissioner waved one hand in the air so that he discoloration of the first and second fingers was very noticeable. "It is for you to ascertain these points, M. Max," he said--"I only suggest. But I begin to share your belief that a series of daring and unusual assassinations has been taking place under the eyes of the police authorities of Europe. It can only be poison--an unknown poison, perhaps. We shall be empowered to exhume the body of the late Sir Frank Narcombe in a few days' time, I hope. His case puzzles me hopelessly. What obstacle did a surgeon offer to this hypothetical Eastern movement? On the other hand, what can have been filched from him before his death? The death of an inventor, a statesman, a soldier, can be variously explained by your 'Yellow' hypothesis, M. Max, but what of the death of a surgeon?" Gaston Max shrugged, and his mobile mouth softened in a quaint smile. "We have learned a little," he said, "and guessed a lot. Let us hope to guess more--and learn everything!"