"Well," said the tactful old Minister. "First carefully review the situation, and you will, I think, admit that I have been your friend. And how have you shown your gratitude?" "By concealing from you a truth both hideous and terrible," he replied, with apparent unconcern. "But you can, if you will, give us some clue to this remarkable chain of circumstances. I appeal to you on behalf of Deedes, her husband," the old man said. "I am well aware of the reason you yourself desire to know the absolute truth, Lord Warnham," he answered, after a brief pause, "but, unfortunately, I am unable to tell you, because of certain promises having been extracted from me." "At least you can tell us from whom I may ascertain the true facts," I cried. He looked at me for an instant gravely, then answered in all seriousness: "The only person who knows the truth is Sonia Korolenko, the refugee." "Sonia!" gasped the Earl. "That woman is not in England, surely?" "I think not," Bingham replied. "But if you would ascertain the key to the enigma, seek her, and she may explain everything. That is as far as I can assist you. Remember, I myself have revealed nothing." "She has returned to Russia," I observed. "Have you any knowledge where she is?" "No, there are reasons why her whereabouts should remain unknown," he answered, hesitatingly. "She is in fear of the police." "Do her friends know of her hiding-place?" "No. A short time ago I desired to communicate with her, but was unable. The last I heard of her was that she was living at Skerstymone, a little town somewhere in Poland." "If she can successfully elude the vigilance of the Russian police, I can have but little hope of finding her," I said, doubtfully. "Make the attempt, Deedes," the Earl suggested. "I will give you leave of absence." "I intend to do so," I replied; and remembering my wife, lonely amid all her splendour, I added, "The elucidation of the mystery is, as it has long since been, the main object of my life."