"There's trickery afoot, sir," he said emphatically, "and I'll lay a month's salary that black-haired Vassilitz is in it." Ruxton turned sharply. "What makes you so convinced?" he enquired thickly. "Why, the letters. Every one of 'em has been opened. So has this telegram. Didn't you twig it, sir?" Ruxton confessed his oversight, and the officer beamed pleasant satisfaction. "That's where experience comes in, sir," he went on. "There never was a system of opening letters that couldn't be detected by those who know. I've made a study of it. Those letters have all been opened--all of 'em. What about this telegram, sir?" "If it's mine, then the Princess has not left of her own free will. I'm afraid it's mine." "Princess, sir?" "Yes. She's the Princess von Hertzwohl!" The officer's face had become a study. He was impressed more deeply than ever. "Er--shall I open it, sir?" he hesitated. Ruxton nodded. "You may as well." The man tore it open and glanced at the contents. A flush spread over his already florid cheeks. "It's yours, sir," he said. Then he added in a low tone: "I'm--I'm sorry, sir." For answer he suddenly felt a forceful clutch on his arm. "The Princess has been kidnapped," cried Ruxton, in a voice deep with passionate intensity. "Do you understand? She was waiting at her house there for that message. Nothing but force would have caused her to leave it until she received that message." Ruxton's extreme dejection on his return to town was changed abruptly into even greater alarm. His secretary was nervously awaiting him. Nor could he restrain his impatience. Heathcote was in the hall when Ruxton's key turned in the lock. The young man held a long telegram in his hand and flourished it towards his employer the moment the door closed. "It's from Sir Andrew," he said. "There's trouble--trouble at Dorby." Ruxton snatched at the ominous paper and his eyes eagerly sought the boldly-written message. "Explosion here at 6 A. M. Drawing offices completely wrecked. Serious fire. Certain departments damaged and had narrow escape complete destruction.--Farlow." It was the second blow in a few hours. Ruxton was hit hard. He read into the message all the ominous facts which had been left unwritten. But in a moment he had been roused out of himself. The loss of the woman he loved had left him stunned in a curious degree. He had been attacked thereby through the sensitive organism which controlled all that belonged to the emotional side of the human heart. A terrible weight of depression had overwhelmed him for the moment. Now it was different. Here was a tangible attack. Here was something that left his heart untouched, but roused instead all the human fighting instinct which had lain dormant within him. There was no deadening apathy, there was no feeling of helplessness. He was alive, alert, and full of battle. So he prepared for a second night in succession to be spent on the railway.