Griscombe, as may be supposed, had all this while maintained a close hold upon his precious treasure-casket. He had placed it beneath his chair as he took his seat at the table; and what with the consciousness thereof, and of the interview with his host concerning his brother's probable fate, he discovered himself to be the victim of a singular embarrassment, and strangely at a loss for words wherewith to commend his wit to the easy and affable beauty. It was in vain that he endeavored to display the aptness of dialogue which he was entirely conscious he possessed. He was aware only of an unwonted constraint; and, accordingly, it was with a singular commixture of relief and regret that, at the invitation of Mr. Desmond, he at last quitted the table, and followed his host toward the study, mentally declaring to himself that, should the opportunity again offer, Miss Desmond should discover him to be not so lacking in brilliancy as she must have supposed from their first interview. Nor was it until he found himself in the study, face to face with the father, the strong box of treasure upon the table between them, that he was able to fetch himself entirely back to the seriousness and complexity of the business which rested upon him. Beginning at the beginning, however, he presently found that he was recovering entire command of himself, and presently, in clear and lucid phrases, was reciting every circumstance that had befallen him from the time of his absurd and preposterous masquerade at the supper of the Bluebird Club to the moment when his present host had met him in the reception-room. As he progressed in his discourse, a dark and sombre shadow of extraordinary gloom gathered deeper and deeper upon the hitherto smiling countenance of Mr. Desmond. By little and little the color left his cheek; and an expression of the profoundest anxiety overspread his face, causing him to resemble to a still more extraordinary degree his unfortunate brother. As our young lawyer concluded his narrative, the other arose, and began walking up and down the narrow spaces of the room, betraying every appearance of an infinite perturbation of spirit, suppressed by an iron will and an implacable determination. "My dear Mr. Griscombe," he said at last, stopping in front of the fireplace, "I shall not attempt to conceal from you my apprehensions regarding the fate of my unfortunate brother. I fear that he is no more, and that a tragic fate has overtaken him. That, however, is now past and gone. It is irremediable, and the question that at present lies upon us is that of my own danger. Tell me, do you suppose it likely that the agents who pursued my brother have any knowledge of my being established in this place?" "That I cannot tell you," said Griscombe, "unless, indeed, the mysterious jack-straw player who penetrated into my office may have been in search of such information. I confess I cannot account in any other way for his coming to me."