"No, certainly not." Nash frowned thoughtfully. "Let me use your telephone a moment," and he held out a bank note. Pablo backed away. "Sorry, can't use--" He got no further. Pierre, with a dexterity which Pablo had not anticipated, had slipped between the Filipino and the open door, and, with a vigorous push, sent Pablo sprawling. But the latter was too quick for him. With a spring like a panther, Pablo was on his back and Pierre measured his length on the ground. "Stop this unseemly brawling," commanded Nash, looking genuinely shocked. "Pierre, go at once to my car. As for you," turning to Pablo, who rose with reluctance and one final kick which sent the chauffeur's headgear down the path, "I shall report your conduct to Mr. Trenholm." And he stalked away. Without giving a thought to Pablo's habit of taking everything he said literally, Trenholm slackened the roadster's speed when they got within a mile of Abbott's Lodge. "Do you see very much of Miss Carter?" he asked. "No. She is never with Mrs. Nash at night and I am not around the house in the daytime," replied Miriam. She hesitated perceptibly. "Betty is the only name given in the messages we decoded. Does it refer to Miss Carter?" "To whom else could it refer?" and Miriam was silenced by his tone. She stole a look at Trenholm. She dared not admit, even to herself, how frequently her thoughts were centered on the self-contained man by her side. "Miss Ward"--Trenholm drove the car to the side of the road and stopped--"did you catch sight of the man in Mrs. Nash's bedroom early this morning?" Her answer was disappointing. "No. I was halfway up the staircase when I heard her cry out, but when I reached her she was alone in the room," she explained. "I had left the hall door partly open and found it practically in the same position upon my return." Trenholm considered her answer for a second. When he addressed her again she was struck by the gravity of his tone. "Exactly what is the matter with Mrs. Nash?" he inquired. "I am not asking from idle curiosity, Miss Ward," observing her hesitation, "but as an officer of the law." Miriam eyed him in startled wonder. What did his question portend? "Doctor Roberts told me he felt that he had not located the real trouble," she replied. "Nor can I give a reason for her, at times, alarming symptoms." "Can you not venture an opinion?" "Mr. Trenholm!" He turned and his rare smile gave her a ray of comfort and a sense of security. "It's unethical, I know," he said. "But you must realize, Miss Ward, that we are confronted with a dastardly conspiracy, the tentacles of which reach from Russia to Abbott's Lodge. Can I not count upon your aid to expose Zybinn's plot?" "You can." Her voice rang out clearly, and again Trenholm smiled, well pleased. "I have sometimes thought that Mrs. Nash's condition is due to a heart depressant--" "A coal-tar poison," quietly. "And by whom administered?"