"Very easily. I found his record. The police haven't disturbed him because his clever disguise has deceived them. They have not recognized in the polished, suave Signor Keralio, the popular fencing master, the man they have been hunting for years. His real name is Richard Barton. His pals call him Baron Rapp. Five years ago he was convicted of robbing a bank out West and was sent up for ten years. He served a year in Joliet and then broke jail and he has been at liberty ever since." "Good!" exclaimed the lawyer, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. "We've got him where we want him. What else?" "He has managed to elude the police so far owing to the fact that he has not been operating of late, but from what I've been able to ferret out, he is preparing some big haul. Everything points that way. I don't know what it is, but it's the biggest thing in which he has yet been mixed up. He's affiliated with crooks who operate all over the country. Some of his men are disguised as servants and valets in rich houses. They spy on their masters and tell him if there is anything worth robbing. He is the master-mind that schemes the operations that others carry out. He tells his men what banks and homes to break into and instructs them how to do it. He receives all the stolen property. At this very moment his flat in the Bronx is full of stolen loot. I also suspect him of being engaged in counterfeiting." The lawyer was lost in admiration. "Dick, you're a wonder!" The young man grinned with pride. "Well--what's it to be--shall we tip off the police?" "Not by a long shot. We'll have the gun loaded--all ready for use. If the Signor gets ugly we'll shoot--that's all. Not a word, do you hear. Leave everything to me. Come, let's go back or they'll think something's wrong." In the ballroom, they were still dancing the quadrille, the pretty gowns of the girls and black coats of the men making a picturesque sight as they blended in the ever changing figures. The gayety was at its height when the maid entered and whispered in her ear: "There's a gentleman downstairs." Helen looked at the girl in surprise. "A gentleman? What's his name?" "I don't know, m'm. He wouldn't say." "Very well, I'll go down." Slipping away unobserved, Helen made her way downstairs and throwing back the heavy tapestry portieres entered the drawing room which was almost in complete darkness. The maid had forgotten to switch on the electrolier and as the only light came from the distant dining-room, the big parlor was practically all in gloom. Before her eyes had become quite accustomed to the dark, a man advanced out of the shadow. It was Signor Keralio. She recognized him instantly and instinctively she shrank back, alarmed. How had he dared come again to her house after what had occurred? He noticed the movement and asked: "I see that I'm unwelcome. Do I frighten you so much?" Coldly she answered: