"I'm sure of it. He only told so much as he was obliged to this afternoon. A deep cuss is the professor. I say, it's raining!" "Worse," said Arnold, drawing up the collar of his coat, "a mist is coming on. We'll get lost in those fields." "Don't mind, so long as Jasher don't get lost." The cab drove on. The fog was not very thick in town, but as they neared Troy it became more dense. By the time they turned down Achilles Avenue a dense white pall lay over the earth, and the air was as cold as a December day. The cabman professed his inability to drive them further. On hearing this Tracey hopped out, followed by Calvert. "It's just as well," said the latter; "we don't want to make the thing too public." He paid the cabman lavishly, and then the two men set off down the side-road which ran through the ancient village of Cloverhead. They passed along the lane which led to the stile on the verge of the fields, and at the back of the manor saw a light on the ground floor. "Mrs. Baldwin's bedroom," said Tracey as they jumped the stile; "she's in bed early--it's just eight o'clock. I guess her nerves have given way." "I wonder she isn't afraid to sleep on the ground floor," said Arnold. "Oh, she's only lost her nerve lately. She didn't mind before. I guess she'll change her bedroom soon and get up to the garret. Say, what a fog." It was indeed a thick white fog, and to make things more uncomfortable it was raining steadily. The low-lying meadows underfoot were slushy, muddy, and slippery. The two men toiled through the dense curtain of mist more by instinct than by sight. Tracey knew the path to the little house well, as he had often passed over the fields to see Bocaros. By the feel of their boots they managed to keep to the somewhat irregular path which ran from the stile, and so by devious ways they succeeded in making their way across the waste. At last they came to gorse bushes looming out of the fog, and beyond this was a dim yellow light. "I guess the professor hasn't disappointed us," said Tracey, as they felt their way to the door; "he's in there." "Alone, probably," said Calvert. Tracey shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. It's not the night to tempt a cat out let alone a comfortable scoundrel like Jasher, who hates, I bet, to get his feet wet. But the business is urgent, else Bocaros would not send for him, so fog or no fog, he's there." "But Tracey was wrong. When they entered the warm study and took off their coats they formed a trio with the professor. He explained that Jasher had not arrived. Then they sat down and talked over the matter. The Greek had by this time turned King's evidence to save his own skin, and to get money out of Calvert. "But you didn't tell us everything this afternoon?" said Arnold. "What else there is to be told will be explained when Jasher is here," replied the Greek grimly; "it won't be pleasant for him."