"So that acquits our Marion. She couldn't be in two places at once; she couldn't even wear two dresses at the same time. And our Marion's voice is the music of the sphere--the sweetest in the whole world. But the face was the same." "The likeness was paralyzing. What do you make of it, uncle?" Ralph smiled dryly. "I make a good deal of it," he replied. "Let us not jump to conclusions, however. Did you hear anything they were saying?" "Of course I did. Mrs. May was urging her companion to do something. She was pointing out how rich the reward would be. It was something, I fancy, that had a deal to do with us." "I shouldn't be surprised," Ralph said grimly. "Go on." "Something artistic that would be commented on in the scientific papers, a thing that would not lead to suspicion." "Yes, yes. Did you manage to get a clue to what it was?" "I'm afraid not. Mrs. May made one remark that was an enigma to me. She said that she had the bees safely in her possession." A queer sound came from Ralph's lips; his face glared with a strange light. "You have done well," he said. "Oh, you have done well indeed." And for the time not another word would he utter. CHAPTER XXV GEOFFREY IS PUZZLED It was a long time before Ralph Ravenspur spoke again. He remained so quiet that Geoffrey began to imagine that his existence had been forgotten. He ventured to lay a hand on his uncle's knee. The latter started like one who sleeps uneasily under the weight of a haunting fear. "Oh, of course," he said. "I had forgotten you; I had forgotten everything. And yet you brought me news of the greatest importance." "Indeed, uncle. What was it?" "That you shall know speedily. The danger had not occurred to me for the moment. And yet all the time it has been under my nose." "Still, you might easily be forgiven for not seeing----" "Seeing has nothing to do with it. And there is nothing the matter with my hearing. The danger has been humming in my ears for days and I never heard it. Now it is roaring like Niagara. But, please God, we shall avert the danger." "You might take me into your confidence, in this matter, uncle." "That I shall before a day has passed, but not for the moment. We are face to face now with the most dangerous crisis that has yet occurred. The enemy can strike us down one by one, and nobody shall dream that there is anything beyond a series of painfully sudden deaths. Failure of the heart's action the doctors would call it. That is all." At that moment Tchigorsky returned to the room. No longer was he in the disguise of an Indian. Perhaps he had donned it to surprise Geoffrey; perhaps he was just discarding the disguise after putting it to some practical use. To him Ralph repeated all that Geoffrey had said. He followed with the most rapt and most careful attention. "Danger, indeed," he said gravely, "the danger that moves unseen on the air, and strikes from out of nothingness. I prophesied something like this, Ralph."