"Because at present I cannot do so. No one regrets it more than myself. There is a grim mystery--a very great mystery--and I intend, with your assistance, to escape my enemy and clear it up." "Who is your enemy?" "Oswald De Gex! He is my enemy as well as yours," I said very seriously. "If you were in the possession of such facts as those I have gathered during the past week or so, you would be startled and--well, perhaps terrified. But I only again beg of you to have a care of yourself. You have promised silence, and I, on my part, will carry on my search for the truth." "The truth of what?" "The truth concerning Gabrielle Engledue." The pretty little woman again looked at me very straight in the face for some moments without speaking. Then, with a strange hardness about her mouth, she said: "Mr. Garfield, take it from me, you will never discover what you are in search of. The truth is too well hidden." "What? Then you know something--eh?" I cried quickly. "Yes. It is true!" she answered in a low, hard voice. "I do know something--something of a certain secret that can never pass my lips!" CHAPTER THE TENTH MONSIEUR SUZOR AGAIN Mrs. Cullerton's words held me breathless. At first I believed that I might wring the truth from her lips, but I quickly saw that she intended to preserve her secret at all costs. Whether she actually believed what I had told her concerning her own peril was doubtful. In any case, she seemed in some strange manner held powerless and fascinated by the rich man who had saved her speculating husband from ruin. I remained there for still another quarter of an hour until her maid announced a visitor, when I was compelled to rise and take my leave. For a few days longer I remained in Florence; then I left for London. On entering the Calais express at the Gare du Nord in Paris on my way home, I was agreeably surprised to find among my fellow travellers to England the affable French banker whom I had met on that memorable journey from York to London. He recognized me at once, and I inquired why he was not, as usual, crossing by air to Croydon. "Ah!" he laughed. "The last time I crossed three weeks ago we went into a thick fog over the Channel, and it was not very comfortable. So I prefer the rail just now." On this occasion we exchanged cards. His name was Gaston Suzor, and between Paris and Calais we discussed many things, for he was a well-informed man and a true hater of the Boches. On the steamer we strolled upon the deck together, and we passed quite a pleasant journey in company. He was surprised that I had been in Italy, but I explained that I had been granted long leave of absence by my firm, and that I had gone to Florence upon private affairs. We parted at Charing Cross, Monsieur Suzor to go to the Carlton, and I home to our little flat in Rivermead Mansions.