CHAPTER XVI.

"If his occulted guilt

Do not itself unkennel in one speech,

It is a damned ghost that we have seen.”

-HAMLET.

To my brother officers the scene had suggested nothing but the disgusting intoxication of Plotski, and steps, indeed, had just been about to be taken for his ejection at the moment when the woman presented herself. The conversation which the Signor had addressed to me had excited no curiosity whatever, being set down simply to the maunderings of a drunkard; so, after one or two little bits of chaff about "getting rid of that abominable wife of mine," we separated. I had little doubt now that I had got a key—the key, in fact—to the Burridge

mystery, which might unlock it—which might, if properly handled; but obviously it was a case of great nicety. The fellow might deny everything in the morning—and what then? He had been drunk-he had talked nonsense-he would remember nothing about it. Unfortunately I was not Burridge. Although he was satisfied of my identity, I could identify him in no way; even if I could, by what legal process could I detain him, or force him to repeat, sober, what he had stated when drunk? In his sober moments this biological woman would regain her ascendancy, and it was clearly her object to keep the secret which he had let out. That he had spoken the truth I had no doubt; the woman's anxiety showed that at once. On recalling Burridge's story I had no difficulty in identifying Plotski with the individual who had figured in it, both in London and at Calcutta, as Count Doldorouski, plotting for the rescue of Car

Bur

lotta's papa, and then as Bill Whytock, the rascally brother of that infamous woman. That he was her husband I had now scarcely a doubt. But this woman-who was she? Not Carlotta, certainly. ridge's description of her did not at all tally with the characteristics of the "magnetic lady." Who was she, then? Her interest in the business was a vital one, clearly, and a hold over her would be a most desirable acquisition; but how to get it? Here I was all abroad.

Early in the morning, to be prepared against all contingencies, I extracted from the Major (under pressure of the most tragical representations of life-and-death business) a week's leave, and having packed a portmanteau, and mobilised myself generally, at half-past nine I presented myself at the King's Head and inquired for Signor Plotski.

"The Signor started by the nine o'clock train, sir," said the waiter.

"The devil! started for good and all? took his baggage?"

"Yes, sir, and the lady and everything." "But he's to lecture to-night?"

"No, sir, the lady got a telegram, she said (she was out early), that called them away. But they're to be back on Monday, to give the second lecture."

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Where did they go to?"

"Can't say, sir, I'm sure; they went to the train-main line-that's all I know, from giving the cabman his orders."

Here was a checkmate. As I stood pondering, a man came up to the door and said to the waiter, "I wish to speak to Signor Plotski- I won't detain him a moment; say it's about the lighting the hall for this evening."

"But he's gone," said the waiter.

"Gone! where?" cried the man, turning white.

"Can't say, sir; he's gone, though."

"Oh the swindler! oh the scoundrel! oh

the blackguard! done me out of a five-pound note as clean as a whistle."

"How's that?" asked the waiter.

"Why, I let him the room for two nights at £5 a-night, and was fool enough not to take the payment in advance.”

"Oh! if you're the gentleman that owns the hall," said the waiter, "it's all right; he left a message for you that they're to be back to lecture on Monday, and you're to be sure to have the hall in order and send out the advertisements."

"That's a business-like swindler! Hall ready! advertisements out! chuck good money after bad! very likely-the infernal scoundrel!"

An idea occurred to me—a brilliant one, I thought—and I said, "I have a very strong reason for wishing to get hold of this fellow too; now, suppose we can find out where he's gone, we might telegraph to the