"As a matter of fact, General," he announced boldly, "I ran over to have a word with Mr. Ewart about a certain matter which is interesting us all. I don't suppose you wish me to worry you with details at the moment?" "I should be very glad to hear what you have to tell us, Mr. Hilderman, but unfortunately I--er--I have a few letters I simply must write, so I hope you will excuse me. My daughter is in the drawing-room, so perhaps you fellows would care to join her there. Her counsel will be of more use to you than mine in your deliberations, I have no doubt." However, when we looked for her in the drawing-room Myra was not there, and I found her in her den. "Why not bring him in here?" she asked. "He won't bite, and it will be more conducive to a free and easy discussion. I should like to hear what he has to say for himself in view of his running away this afternoon, and I shouldn't feel comfortable in the drawing-room with this shade on. In here I feel that he must just put up with any curiosities he meets." So we made ourselves comfortable in the den, and Hilderman sat in a chair by the window. "Of course, you know what I have come to speak about, Mr. Ewart," he began at once. "You must have thought my conduct this afternoon was very strange--very unsportsmanlike, to say the least." "Oh, I don't know," I replied as lightly as I could. "It was a very strange affair, and it rather called for strange conduct of one sort or another." "Still, you must have thought it cowardly to run away as quickly as I could," he insisted. "It was some time before we even noticed you had left us," I laughed, "and then, I confess, I couldn't quite make out where you had got to or why you had gone." "As a matter of fact we were rather scared," Dennis put in. "We searched for you in the river." "It sounds a very cowardly confession to make," Hilderman admitted, "but I went back to the landing-stage, got into my boat, and cleared off as quickly as I could. I must ask you to believe that I was under the impression that it would be best for us all that I should. But my idea proved to be a bad one and nothing came of it. So here I am to ask you if you have learned anything or have anything to suggest." "I'm afraid we're more at a loss than ever now," I admitted. "The further we get with this thing the less we seem to know about it, unfortunately." Hilderman was exceedingly sympathetic, and though he made numerous suggestions he was as puzzled as we were ourselves. I had some difficulty in defining his attitude. We knew as much as was sufficient to hang his friend "Fuller," but I could not make up my mind whether he really was a friend of von Guernstein's or not. It was a small thing that decided me. On an occasionable table beside the American lay a steel paper-knife, a Japanese affair, with a carved handle and a very sharp blade. Hilderman picked up the knife and toyed with it.