"Why, you were in your room all night," he cried. "You were----" He was going to say "drugged," but he pulled himself up just in time. Vera told her story without further preamble. It was a thrilling story and none the less so because simply told. "I don't profess to understand it," Vera concluded. "I tell it to you just as it happened. On the whole, I thought it as well to keep the information to myself. I dare say that Dr. Tchigorsky can solve the problem." "He shall have a chance," said Geoffrey. "I'll tell him after luncheon. But I should not tell a soul else this, Vera." "I had no intention, Geoffrey. And now, hadn't we better go back and say good-bye to Mrs. May. She is leaving the house directly." Mrs. May did leave the house in the course of the morning, all smiles and blandishments. She had a particularly tender word and squeeze of the hand for Geoffrey, whom she pressed in a whisper to come and see her before long. "I will," Geoffrey replied. "You may rely upon that." It was with a feeling of intense relief that he was rid of her. It seemed hard to believe that the smiling polished woman of the world, the _dernière cri_ of Western civilization, should be one and the same with the fanatic princess of the fanatical East. There was something wild and bizarre about the very suggestion. There was one last smile for every one but Marion, who had not appeared, and Mrs. May was gone. Geoffrey made his way up to his uncle's room. There he found the two friends smoking. Tchigorsky looked at him from behind a cloud of thin smoke. "You have news, my young friend," said Tchigorsky. "I see it in your eyes." "I have the most important news," said Geoffrey, "only it does not convey any impression to me. It is a discovery of Vera's. She had a fine adventure last night. She was not sure whether or not she had seen your murder, Tchigorsky." "Say on," Tchigorsky said calmly. "Say on, my boy." Geoffrey said on accordingly. He fully expected to surprise his hearers, and he was not disappointed. Every word he said was followed with rapt attention. "And now can you explain it?" Geoffrey asked eagerly. "To me the explanation is perfectly clear," Tchigorsky replied. "Last night I told you that there were two other parties to the vendetta now in England, and that it was necessary to get them into the net before we close it. That is no longer necessary, for the simple reason that these two men are dead--drowned." "Do you mean that they perished with that stranger last night?" "Certainly, I do. A fine determined fellow, whose death I cannot sufficiently deplore. And he had his vengeance upon his foes. If he perished, they perished also." "But who was he, Tchigorsky?"