"Last night--in London. At the Mascot Music Hall, and at her own rooms. You look surprised." "I am. You should not have gone to her rooms, let alone the Mascot Music Hall." "I know that--but to save Ferdy I did so. It was just as well that I went, for several reasons. Oh, I have much to tell you"--Clarice drew her lover to the sofa with gentle force--"and perhaps you will be angry with me." "I said that I would trust you," remarked Ackworth, slowly. "Your trust has not been misplaced. But I have done what you may think rather a bold thing. Still, in this case, what I have learned is so important, that I can safely say that the end has justified the means." "What have you done?" Anthony looked apprehensive. She tapped his cheek. "Nothing to make you colour up in that way, my dear boy. I'll tell you everything when you have explained how you came to find out about Frank Clarke." "Oh, that will not take long. I asked Ferdy down yesterday, as you desired me to do, and he came without any suspicions that you wanted him out of the way. We had a very jolly evening. At least, Ferdy had, for I was worrying about you, and wondering what you were doing. Also, I must admit that I had the detective fever." "What is that?" asked Miss Baird, opening her eyes. "Well, the errand you wanted me to execute raised my curiosity to fever heat. I felt that I could not rest until I had learned the name of Jerce's consumptive patient, especially when I remembered that he was one of the Purple Fern triumvirate. Next morning, I had no duties to attend to, so I handed Ferdy over to an Irish chap, who would amuse him and keep an eye on him, and then bunked off to London by the ten o'clock train." "You did not come up to see what I was doing?" asked Clarice, in a suspicious manner. "No. I did not even know that you were in London," replied Anthony, rather wounded by her doubts, "and in any case, as I intended to trust you, I should not have spied upon you." "I ask your pardon, dear," and she kissed him. Ackworth accepted the delightful apology, and continued. "I went down to Whitechapel, and had a deuce of a hunt to find Tea Street. But I came across a kind of Sister of Mercy, who knew all about Jerce and his philanthropic missions. Jerce has a surgery in Tea Street, and goes there twice a week, usually at night. Sister Anne--so she told me she was called, and it reminded me of Bluebeard--showed me where the consumptive young man had lived. The police had been there, after Jerce had communicated that letter to Scotland Yard." "What letter?" "The one given by the dying man to Jerce, warning him that he might be attacked by Osip. If you remember, the sick chap confessed that he was one of the members of the triumvirate. According to Sister Anne, this young man was called Felix Exton, but the police found stray letters in his rooms which showed that he was really Frank Clarke, the son of the vicar."