"I had to see you alone," explained the older woman. "I have something of importance to say to you--that's why I made Mrs. Porter-Strangeways bring me. I feared that you would not see me otherwise." "To see me alone?" repeated Eileen, with the air of one completely mystified. Then, as the other nodded grimly, she closed the door of the room. With a murmured "Pardon me" the Princess walked across the room and turned the key. "It will be better so," she said. "What I have to say must not be overheard. The life of a--some one may depend on secrecy." Eileen had begun to wonder if her strange visitor were mad. There was something, however, in her quiet, methodical manner that forbade the assumption. The Princess Petrovska had settled herself gracefully in a great arm-chair. "No, I am not mad." She answered the unspoken question. "I am quite in my senses, I assure you. I have come to you with a message from one you think dead--from Robert Grell." The room reeled before Eileen's eyes. She clutched the mantelpiece with one hand to steady herself. "From one I _think_ dead!" she repeated. "Bob _is_ dead." She gripped the other woman fiercely by the shoulder and almost shook her in the intensity of her emotion. "He is dead, I tell you. What do you mean? I know he is dead. Do not lie to me. He is dead." The Princess Petrovska glanced gravely up into the strained features of the girl. Her own face was a mask. "Calm yourself, Lady Eileen," she said. "You have been made the victim of a wicked deceit. He is not dead--but a man wonderfully like him is. I have come here at his request to relieve your mind." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "At the same time, he is in grave danger, and you can help him." The girl's hands dropped to her side, and she regarded her visitor helplessly. A new hope was beginning to steal into her heart, but her reason was all on the other side. "He is dead," she protested faintly. "Fairfield killed him. Why should he hide if he is not dead? Why should he not come here himself? Why should he send you?" "Don't be a fool," retorted the other impatiently, and the impertinence of the words had the effect intended of bracing the half-fainting girl. "He does not come because to do so would be madness--because if he showed himself he would be at once arrested by Scotland Yard detectives. They believe him to be the murderer of his double--a man named Goldenburg. There is a note he gave me for you." The letters danced before Eileen's eyes as she tore open the thin envelope and held what was undoubtedly Robert Grell's writing in her shaking hand. She was startled as never before in her life save when she heard of the murder. Slowly she read, the words biting into her brain--