“No, and I do not know his address, and I cannot get at him,” said Barclay-Seymour. “It was tragic in many ways. I think he was just going to marry, for he said this much to me: ‘If this is true, and I am married, I will leave my wife a pauper,’ and he asked me a curious question,” added the Doctor. “He said, ‘Don’t you think that a man condemned to die is justified in taking any action, committing any crime, for the protection of the loved ones he leaves behind?’” “I see,” said Edith. Her voice was hollow and sounded remote to her. “What is that?” said the General, and jumped up. This time there was no doubt. Jack Frankfort sprang to the curtain that covered the recess and pulled it aside. There stood Gilbert Standerton, white as a ghost, his eyes staring into vacancy, the hand at his mouth shaking. “The wrong card!” he said. “My God!” CHAPTER XVI. BRADSHAW A month later Gilbert Standerton came back from the Foreign Office to his little house in St. John’s Wood. “There is a man to see you, Gilbert,” said his wife. “I think I know, it is my bank manager,” he said. He greeted the tall man who rose to meet him with a cheery smile. “Now, Mr. Brown,” he said, “I have to explain to you exactly what I want done. There is a man in America, he has been there some week or two, to whom I owe a large sum of money--eighty thousand pounds, to be exact--and I want you to see that I have sufficient fluent capital to pay it.” “You have quite sufficient, Mr. Standerton,” said the manager, “even now, without selling any of your securities.” “That is good. You will have all the particulars here,” said Gilbert, and took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “It is really a trust, in the sense that it is to be transferred to two men, Thomas Black and George Smith. They may sub-divide it again, because I believe,” he smiled, “they have other business associates who happen to be entitled to share.” “I did not congratulate you, Mr. Standerton,” said the bank manager, “upon the marvellous service you rendered the city. They say that through you every penny which was stolen by the famous Wallis gang has been recovered.” “I think that pretty well described the position,” said Gilbert quietly. “I was reading an account of it in a paper the other day,” the bank manager went on. “It was very providential that there was an alarm of fire next door to their headquarters.” “It was providential that it was found before the fire reached the Safe Company’s premises,” said Gilbert. “Fortunately the firemen saw me through the skylight. That made things rather easy, but it was some time before they got me out, as you probably know.” “Did you ever see this man Wallis?” asked the bank manager curiously. “Didn’t the papers tell you that?” bantered Gilbert with a dry smile.