"What is it?" demanded the curious Conniston. "Never you mind just now. It has to do with Mrs. Gilroy being drawn from her hiding-place. I'll tell you what it is after I have seen Tolomeo. But the success of my plan depends upon Bernard keeping in the background. If you tell him about Michael----" "He'll be over like a shot. And after all, Mark, it's not pleasant to think a fellow is masquerading as you with the girl you love." "Bernard must put up with that," snapped Durham, who was getting cross. "His neck depends upon my management of this affair. Should he go to Hurseton he will be recognized by everyone, let alone Jerry, who would at once tell Beryl. You know what that means." "I know that Beryl is playing for a big stake he won't land," said Conniston, grimly, and walked towards the door. "All right, Mark, I'll sit on Bernard and keep him quiet. But, I say, I want to tell you I am in love with----" "Conniston, I will certainly throw something at your head if you don't clear. I have enough to do without listening to your love----" "Not mine. She is--well there, I daresay your nerves are thin. I do wish all this business was ended. You used to be no end of a chap, and now you are as cross as a battery mule and twice as obstinate." Lord Conniston talked himself out of the office, and went down to Cove Castle by a later train. Here he managed to pacify the impatient Bernard, no easy task. But the lessons of that week taught Dick patience, a quality he had always sadly lacked. True to the appointment made by letter, Signor Tolomeo appeared at Durham's office and was at once shown in. He was a tall man with a keen, clever, dark face. His hair and mustache were gray and he had a military appearance. In his bearing there was great dignity, and it could be seen at a glance that he had good blood in his veins. It was true what Sir Simon had said. The Tolomeo family had been nobles of the Sienese Republic for many a century, and although their present-day representative was poor in pocket and played the violin for a living, yet he looked a great lord. But his dark eyes had a somewhat reckless expression in them, which showed that Tolomeo lacked what is called moral principle. Durham received him politely and indicated a seat near his desk with a smile. Tolomeo, with great courtesy, bowed and sat down. Then he fixed his large eyes on the lawyer with an inquiring air, but was too astute to say anything. He had been brought here on an errand, the purport of which he knew nothing; therefore he waited to hear what Durham had to say before he committed himself. "Signor Tolomeo," said the lawyer, "you were surprised to see my advertisement?" "I was indeed," replied the Italian, who spoke excellent English. "Our last interview was not particularly pleasant." "This may be still less so," rejoined Durham, dryly; "but as it concerns your nephew Bernard, perhaps you will be frank with me." "Ah, poor Bernard!" said the uncle. "He is dead."