E-text prepared by Janet Kegg and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 15893-h.htm or 15893-h.zip: (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893/15893-h/15893-h.htm) or (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893/15893-h.zip) THE LIGHTED WAY by E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM Author of _Havoc_, _Peter Ruff and the Double-Four_, _The Master Mummer_, etc. With Illustrations by A. B. Wenzell Boston Little, Brown, and Company 1912 [Illustration: Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his. FRONTISPIECE. _See page 354_.] CONTENTS I AN INVITATION TO DINNER II RUTH III ARNOLD SCENTS MYSTERY IV THE FACE AT THE WINDOW V AN UNUSUAL ERRAND VI THE GLEAM OF STEEL VII "ROSARIO IS DEAD!" VIII THE DUTIES OF A SECRETARY IX A STRAINED CONVERSATION X AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR XI AN INTERRUPTED LUNCHEON XII JARVIS IS JUSTLY DISTURBED XIII CASTLES IN SPAIN XIV SABATINI'S DOCTRINES XV THE RED SIGNET RING XVI AN ADVENTURE XVII THE END OF AN EVENING XVIII DISCUSSING THE MYSTERY XIX IN THE COUNTRY XX WOMAN'S WILES XXI ARNOLD SPEAKS OUT XXII THE REFUGEE'S RETURN XXIII TROUBLE BREWING XXIV ISAAC AT BAY XXV MR. WEATHERLEY'S DISAPPEARANCE XXVI ARNOLD BECOMES INQUISITIVE XXVII THE LETTERS IN THE SAFE XXVIII TALK OF TREASURE SHIPS XXIX COUNT SABATINI VISITS XXX SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED XXXI A LUNCHEON-PARTY XXXII ISAAC IN HIDING XXXIII SABATINI'S DAUGHTER XXXIV CLOSE TO TRAGEDY XXXV MR. WEATHERLEY RETURNS XXXVI COUNTERCLAIMS XXXVII THE SHIP COMES IN LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his (Frontispiece) "I was waiting here for you," he explained The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall "For myself," he declared, "I remain" "Where is this man?" he demanded Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his shoulder CHAPTER I AN INVITATION TO DINNER Mr. Samuel Weatherley, sole proprietor of the firm of Samuel Weatherley & Co., wholesale provision merchants, of Tooley Street, London, paused suddenly on his way from his private office to the street. There was something which until that second had entirely slipped his memory. It was not his umbrella, for that, neatly tucked up, was already under his arm. Nor was it the _Times_, for that, together with the supplement, was sticking out of his overcoat pocket, the shape of which it completely ruined. As a matter of fact, it was more important than either of these--it was a commission from his wife.