"No," said Mallow; "we have no facts to give them. We know that Carson has possession of the money; but, you must remember, he has legal possession of it. We know that he is in Italy, and that Clara has joined him. There is nothing there for the police, is there? Beyond this we can say nothing; not even that Carson is an impostor. But it will not be long now before we are able to settle that point; Mrs. Purcell arrives from India in a couple of days' time, and a portrait of Carson----" "I have one," interrupted Olive. "He was so vain that he actually had some done by one of these men on the beach. There were some copies in this room. I dare say I can find them. But tell me, Mr. Mallow, what do you intend to do now?" Whilst she was hunting for the photographs, Mallow explained. "I think," he said, "I had better go to London and see this Mrs. Arne. Then I shall look up Semberry, and after that--well, then, I think I'll drop in on Dr. Drabble in Soho." "Will you broach the matter directly?" "No; I don't think it would be wise to do that. If things are as I suspect, we have to deal with a dangerous lot. I'll find out all I can without letting them have any suspicion--that is to say, from Mrs. Arne and Semberry. As for Drabble, I intend to join him. I shall become an Anarchist." "Become an Anarchist?" echoed Olive, turning round, the photographs in her hand. "Yes; it is my only chance of gaining his confidence. I must do it if I am to get at the truth." "But you will bring trouble upon yourself." "Oh no," laughed Mallow, "I shall stop short of throwing bombs, I promise you." "Oh, it is dangerous," said Mrs. Carson, sighing. "How can I thank you sufficiently for all the trouble you are taking--here are the photographs." Laurence glanced at one. It represented Carson standing straight and stiff against a stone wall for all the world as if he were going to be shot. It was not a work of art, but the likeness was excellent. Mallow nodded as if he were well satisfied. "It will serve our purpose capitally," he said, putting it in his pocket. "Mrs. Purcell should have no difficulty in saying if this is or is not the man she saw in Bombay. Well, Mrs. Carson," he added abruptly. "I must say good night." "Good night. What time to-morrow do you leave?" "Not until the evening train--six o'clock. Mrs. Purcell does not arrive for two days yet, so I have plenty of time. Good night." Thus did Mallow take his first step on the dark and tortuous way he was to follow. It led him downward into an under-world of crime and danger. But he found some good even in those sordid depths. Doubt and mystery surrounding him, holding his life in his hand, on and on he went, never flinching, never yielding, never losing sight of his clue until at last it led him to the truth. _THE THIRD SCENE: IN LONDON_. CHAPTER I. "MYSTERIOUS MRS. ARNE."