As they were about to leave Dr. White stepped to Sana’s side and said gently, “Miss Sana, please accompany Mrs. O’Brien to her home. If you wish to go to the hotel you may do so, but not until after six o’clock. Do you understand?” Sana nodded agreeably and assisted by Mrs. O’Brien she left the two men to their thoughts. Grant broke the silence. They had been silently thinking of some plan to follow. “A letter will do the trick. We shall put the fear of the Almighty in that rascal’s heart.” “All right. Let’s get busy. No time can be lost in dealing with him.” The letter was written immediately and dispatched to the hotel by messenger. One can only imagine the thoughts that surged through de Rochelle’s head when he read the following: M. François de Rochelle Hotel Claza New York, N. Y. Dear Sir: Your secretary, Miss Sana, attempted to jump from the Queensborough Bridge to drown herself, as directed and demanded of her, while under your hypnotic influence, so that you could collect the $50,000 insurance and marry your old time sweetheart. We advise you to leave this city before five o’clock this evening, as by six o’clock we shall have reported the case to the District Attorney. Yours truly, H. Grant, Robt. E. White. CHAPTER II AT THE MORGUE The tiny hands of the ormulu clock upon the mantel told Sana’s anxious heart that it was a quarter to six. With a strange presentiment of coming evil that defied analysis and strongly against the wishes of her hostess, Sana left the house and hurried to the hotel. Reaching de Rochelle’s suite she rapped at the door. No answer came. A second rapping proved as futile as the first. “He is out,” murmured the girl as she sought her own room. She wanted to rest, but could not. For fully half an hour she paced the floor, a dreadful oppression as of some impending catastrophe weighing down upon her. She could not shake it off. The very silence of the room seemed to creep into her heart and dull her mind. Once more she crossed the corridor to de Rochelle’s rooms. This time she gave the door a resounding knock. But still no response. Gently, almost fearfully, she tried the door. It was unlocked, so she entered the room. A strange sight met her eyes. Disorder was everywhere. The little writing table, usually so neat and well ordered, was a confusion of jumbled papers and letters. Signs of a hasty departure were everywhere. Sana, however, took it only to mean that some business interest had called de Rochelle away in a hurry. Somewhat relieved Sana picked up a book and going over to the deeply cushioned divan, sat down to beguile away the time pending his return. But her mind was in a turmoil and she could not concentrate on her reading.