"To get possession of something which Mr Parham had concealed here," I said. "That may be, but as far as Mrs Parham is aware they took nothing beyond a few of her husband's private papers." "Nothing except a photograph that stood on the table over there," remarked my hostess. "A photograph!" I exclaimed, in pretended surprise. "Of whom?" "Of a friend," was the vague response, and I saw that the two women looked at each other meaningly. They intended to keep the identity of the original of the stolen portrait a secret. Yet they were in utter ignorance that it was in my possession. Why had this Miss O'Hara gone to meet Sybil in Nello's place? I wondered. I chatted with them both for a long time, but without being able to discover any additional fact. They were both clever women, and knew how to hold their tongues. Presently Mrs Parham said suddenly,-- "I'm sure my husband will feel very indebted to you when he knows all the facts. I have not the pleasure of your name." "Morton," I said, "William Morton," and feeling in my pocket expressed regret that I had forgotten my card-case. A quarter of an hour later I took my leave and was walking down Sydenham Hill when I suddenly encountered my friend the police inspector of the night of the strange affair at Keymer. He glanced at me, and our recognition was mutual. Then when he had greeted me he turned on his heel and walked in my direction. After some conversation regarding the mysterious attempt and its fatal termination, he said in a hard voice,-- "Our people are rather surprised at your attitude, you know." "My attitude! What do you mean?" I exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. "Well. You might have given information when you knew that we wanted to question that man Parham." "Information of what?" "Of his whereabouts. You were seen one evening not long ago talking to him." "Where?" "In the entrance to the Empire," replied the inspector. "One of our plain-clothes men saw you with Parham and another man. But the fellow managed to get away, as he always does." I stood aghast. "Was he a fair bald-headed man?" "Of course." I was silent. The truth was plain, the revelation a staggering one. Winsloe had introduced his accomplice, John Parham, to me as the traveller and engineer named Humphreys! It was in John Parham's house that the dastardly attempt had been made upon my life--in his house that other persons had met with mysterious and untimely ends. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. WHAT OCCURRED IN DEAN'S YARD, WESTMINSTER. That same evening, attired in my working clothes, I watched Winsloe's chambers in King Street at the hour when I knew his habit was to return to dress for dinner. From five o'clock till half-past seven I lingered in the vicinity; then returning to my hotel in the Adelphi I there met Budd, whom I sent round to the man's chambers to inquire when he would be in.