“You remember Carl Trevetz, at Paris,” continued he, “his father belonged to the Austrian Embassy!” “Yes, I remember him!” “To-morrow I will send this to him, simply asking who it is.” “Yes--and then?” “When the answer comes, Hilda, I will write on the outside of the envelope the name that you will find inside--written by Trevetz.” For a moment she looked across the table at him with a vague expression of wonder upon her face. “Even if you are right,” she said, “will it affect us? Will it make us cease to look upon him as a friend?” “I think so.” “Then,” she said slowly, “it has come. You remember now?” “Yes; I remember now--but it may be a mistake yet. I would rather have my memory confirmed by Trevetz before telling you what I know--or think I know--about Bruno!” Hilda was about to question him further when Molly entered the room, and the subject was perforce dropped. The next morning there came a letter for Christian from Mr. Bodery. It was short, and not very pleasant. “DEAR VELLACOTT,--Sorry to trouble you with business so early in your holiday, but there has been another great row in Paris, as you will see from the papers I send you. It is hinted that the mob are mere tools in the hands of influential wire-pullers, and the worst of it is that they were armed with English rifles and bayonets of a pattern just superseded by the War Office. How these got into their hands is not yet explained, but you will readily see the gravity of the circumstance in the present somewhat strained state of affairs. Several of the 'dailies' refer to us, as you will see, and express a hope that our 'exceptional knowledge of French affairs' will enable us to throw some light upon the subject. Trevetz is giving us all the information he can gather; but, of course, he is only able to devote a portion of his time to us. He hints that there is plenty of money in the background somewhere, and that a strong party has got up the whole affair--perhaps the Church. We must have something to say (something of importance) next week, and with this in view I must ask you to hold yourself in readiness to go to Paris on receipt of a telegram or letter from me.--Yours, “C. C. BODERY.” Christian folded the letter, and replaced it in the envelope. Suddenly his attention was attracted to the latter. Upon the back there was a rim round the adhesive portion, and within this the glaze was gone from the paper. The envelope had been tampered with by a skilful manipulator. If Mr. Bodery had been in the habit of using inferior stationery, no trace would have been left upon the envelope. Christian slipped the letter into his pocket, and, glancing round, saw that his movements had passed unobserved. “Anything new?” asked Sidney, from the head of the table.