He was a little better, the doctor told her. He had recovered consciousness for a short time that evening, and his brain seemed calmer. Several times, while conscious, he had asked why Lady Thorold did not come to him, and where she was. Her absence evidently disturbed him a good deal. On leaving the hospital, I looked in at Faulkner's club. He was in the hall, talking to the porter, and just about to come out. "Ah, my dear Dick," he exclaimed, "you're the very man I want to see. How is Sir Charles?" "A very little better," I answered. "I have just come from the hospital. Lady Thorold is with him now." "Good. By the way, have you seen the tape news just in?" "What news?" He led me across to the machine at the further end of the hall, picked up the tape, and held it out at arm's length. The startling words I read were as follows-- "The men whom the police are trying to arrest at Houghton Park to-day, shot three policemen dead, and seriously injured a fourth. A reinforcement of police has been summoned. Thousands of people have assembled in the Park, which surrounds the house, and hundreds are arriving hourly on foot, on bicycles, in carriages, and in cars." While we stood there, the machine again ticked. This was the message that came up-- "Houghton Park. Later: A number of bags of gold coin, mostly French louis, have just been found at Houghton Park. They were discovered by the police, concealed between the rafters and the roof. There are said to be several thousand pounds worth of these coins." So the mystery was slowly leaking out. I felt that everything must soon be known. How did those sacks of gold come to be hidden in the roof at Houghton? Who had concealed them there? Could it be the same gold I had seen in the house in Belgrave Street? And if so, had Whichelo... I felt bewildered. What chiefly occupied my thoughts was the news of those policemen. Poor fellows! How monstrous they should not have been allowed to fire upon the murderers. Too furious to speak, I left the club with Faulkner, and together we walked along Piccadilly, towards Bond Street. As we sauntered past the Burlington, a pair of laughing, dark eyes met mine, and at once I recognised--Judith! "_Ah, mon cher ami_!" she cried, revealing her white teeth as she extended her well-gloved hand. She was gorgeously and expensively dressed, in the height of Paris fashion, and I noticed that all who passed us by--men and women alike--stared hard at her. "Did you come back with Lady Thorold?" I asked--why, I hardly knew-- when we had talked for some moments.