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Who will bless the winds that filled the wings of the

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[Pg 176]

“You misunderstood me, Hastings. What I meant was that I believe in the terrific force of superstition. Once get it firmly established that a series of deaths are supernatural, and you might almost stab a man in broad daylight, and it would still be put down to the curse, so strongly is the instinct of the supernatural implanted in the human race. I suspected from the first that a man was taking advantage of that instinct. The idea came to him, I imagine, with the death of Sir John Willard. A fury of superstition arose at once. As far as I could see, nobody could derive any particular profit from Sir John’s death. Mr. Bleibner was a different case. He was a man of great wealth. The information I received from New York contained several suggestive points. To begin with, young Bleibner was reported to have said he had a good friend in Egypt from whom he could borrow. It was tacitly understood that he meant his uncle, but it seemed to me that in that case he would have said so outright. The words suggest some boon companion of his own. Another thing, he scraped up enough money to take him to Egypt, his uncle refused outright to advance him a penny, yet he was able to pay the return passage to New York. Some one must have lent him the money.”

Larry guv me wan look, then he begun to wissel, excusing himsilf a moment after to Miss Claire.

At four o'clock I took my way to the secret entrance of the Santi Apostoli, found the familiar passage and a lackey awaiting me in the garden to conduct me to the Duke.

“Things for you. Now listen.”

I was introduced to Stanley Houghton in Manchester by Jack Kahane—the latter a most brilliant and engaging personality who knew everybody: or, rather, everybody knew him.

50

Perhaps he could make some more. What about trying to find a way out of this place, for instance?

“You should get Eddie or Norman Morrow to go a walk with you,” he said. “They would make you see things.”

Twenty seconds later a figure in Santa Claus red came clashing into the room. Hartford, half into his blue safety-suit, came to a clumsy attention. The newcomer, his helmet clammed shut all ready for contamination, bellowed, "Get with it, Mister!"

“Do not be enraged, I beg of you, mon ami. I count on you to do me a service—of your friendship.”

1.“One of the men ashore has a bag in his hand, which may contain letters some of them have written,” Jack was saying. “I wonder if it’s really true that every letter has to be left open, so no news of importance could be picked up by the enemy. You know over in England they’ve gone daffy over the German spy scare; and one of the Tommies out here might give things away.”

2."Let us get out of here," said Macfarren, hurriedly; and, Marian rising, he offered her his arm, and, with Mrs. Van Tromp on the other side, they went out of the dining-room as they had entered it, and, as before, were the cynosure of all eyes.

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