How could he expose the "Friends of the Poor" and drag her down in the crash? Bolshevik they _might_ be—murderers they surely were. Public opinion, aroused now to fever heat, would see that not one escaped the full penalty. Unless the girl were part and parcel with the organization and knew their inmost secrets—their every move—she would never have been close at hand to save him from that hidden passage where no one knew that he had gone. Suddenly he felt a cool, soft hand upon his forehead. He opened his eyes and turned his head. Mary Sturtevant sat by the bedside, gazing down at him with bright eyes as she gently stroked his head. "Mary," he whispered, reproachfully, "I can’t believe it!" "Oh, Robert," she exclaimed, "are you feeling all right again? I have been so worried. It is two days since we brought you here. Each time you awoke you were delirious and we had to give you sleeping powders to keep you quiet." Then she seized his hands in her own and held them close to her. "Robert," she murmured, "now that it is all over, I can answer you. _I love you!_" He drew her hands back to him and pressed them to his lips. "All over?" he queried, at last. "What do you mean?" "I know it is against the doctor’s orders to excite you," she answered, "but I cannot stand this dreadful suspense any longer. There is a man waiting downstairs who can explain all. I have made him stay close at hand every day so that when your mind became clear you could know the whole story immediately. I will bring him up now," and Mary Sturtevant withdrew her hands from Forrester’s clasp and ran out of the room. In a few minutes she returned, followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man, with kindly brown eyes and streaks of gray in his thick, dark hair. He smiled down reassuringly at Forrester as the girl introduced him. "This," she announced, happily, "is Mr. Keith Marten, whom I call the invisible detective." Marten took Forrester’s hand and held it for a moment with a warm, friendly clasp, as he said, "I am very glad to meet you face to face, Mr. Forrester. I have known you well for weeks, but chiefly from some distance. As Miss Sturtevant says, I have endeavored to remain invisible." Marten then drew a chair near the bed and sat down. "Do either of you mind my smoking?" he asked, taking a cigar from his pocket. "Tobacco is my principal failing—one, however, which I believe I share in common with all who must draw deeply upon nervous force in their work." Both urged him to smoke, and while Marten lighted his cigar, Mary Sturtevant explained his connection with the case to Forrester. "Mr. Marten was in the Government Secret Service for many years, and has had his own investigative service for some time.