William Le Queux (continued 5)

“Very well,” he said, smiling and humouring her. “You see here, at this mark,” and he showed her a pencilled line upon the Hebrew text, “that is where I halted for luncheon. Now we go on to the next sign of six. See, here it is—in the next line. Now we count the eleventh letter,” and he wrote it down in Hebrew. Then he counted the sixty-sixth, the six hundredth and sixty-sixth, the fiftieth, the two-hundredth, and so on until he had a number of Hebrew signs ranged side by side. Presently he said, pointing to them:

“Here you are! The English translation to this is ‘...yourselves, and wonder, for unto thee, O children of Israel...’”

“Really, dad!” exclaimed the girl, highly excited. “It’s most remarkable!”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I confess that until now I held the same idea that every Jewish Rabbi holds—namely that no secret cipher can exist in our inspired writings.”

“But you have now proved it beyond question!” she declared.

“Yes. But startling as it may be, we must preserve our secret, dear. There are others endeavouring to learn the trend of my investigations, recollect. We may have spies upon us, for aught we know,” he added in a low tone, glancing at her with a significant look.

“How long do you expect it will take before you are in full possession of the whole of the secret statement?” she asked.

“Many hours, my dear. Perhaps many days—how can I tell. Holmboe says it runs through only nine chapters. Therefore it should end with chapter xxvi. But as far as I can gather I believe I shall find further cryptic statements in the later chapters. There are certain evidences of these in chapter xxxvii, 16, in chapter xxxix, 18, 19 and 20, and again in chapter xliv, 5. Therefore, I anticipate that my task may be a rather long one. The counting and recounting to ensure accuracy occupies so much time. The miscounting of a single letter would throw everything out and prevent the record being recovered, as you will readily foresee. Hence, it must be done with the greatest precision and patience.”

“But, dad—this is most joyful news!” declared the girl excitedly, “I’m most anxious to telegraph to Frank.”

“Not until the secret is wholly ours, my dear. Remember we must keep the key a most profound secret to ourselves.”

“Of course, dad,” the girl answered, “I quite see that this information must not be allowed to pass to our enemies.”

Little did father or daughter imagine that, within their own quiet household, was a spy—the maid Laura, suborned by Jim Jannaway.

When the pair had entered the study she had crept silently up to the door, and listened intently for the one fact which Jannaway had instructed her to listen—the means by which the cipher could be unravelled.

She was a shrewd, intelligent girl, and the inducement which the good-looking adventurer had held out to her was such that the Professor’s explanation to his daughter impressed itself upon her memory.

She recollected every word, and still stood listening, able to hear quite distinctly, until there seemed no further information to be gathered. Then she descended the stairs, and made certain memoranda of the text at which to commence, and the mode by which the decipher could be made.

Half an hour later she made an excuse to the cook that she wished to go out to buy some hairpins, and then despatched a telegram to the name and address which her generous and good-looking “gentleman” had given her.

Meanwhile Gwen still sat with her father at his writing-table watching him slowly taking from the text of the Book of Ezekiel the full and complete record that had been hidden from scholars through all the ages—the record which was to deliver back to the house of Israel her most sacred possessions.

The light of the short afternoon faded, the electric light was switched on, tea was served by the faithless maid-servant, and dinner had been announced.

But the Professor worked on, regardless and oblivious of everything. He was far too occupied, and Gwen was also too excited to dress and descend to dinner. Therefore, Laura served the meal upon a tray.

All was silence save the Professor’s dry monotonous voice as he counted aloud the letters of the Hebrew text, recounted them to reassure himself, and then set down a Hebrew character as result.

Thus from after luncheon until midnight—through the time indeed that Diamond was so patiently watching the big house in Berkeley Square—the work of solving the problem went slowly on.

Gwen sat and watched her father’s Hebrew manuscript grow apace, until it covered many quarto pages. Now and then she assisted in counting the letters, verifying her father’s addition.

Then at last, just after the old-fashioned clock upon the mantelshelf had chimed twelve, the old scholar raised his grey head with a sigh, and wiping his glasses, as was his habit, said:

“Sit down, dear, and write the English translation at my dictation. I think we now have it quite complete.”

Chapter Thirty One.

Exposes the Conspiracy.

While Professor Griffin had been so busily engaged deciphering the concluding portion of the secret record, a strange scene was in progress at Sir Felix Challas’s, in Berkeley Square.

First, Jim Jannaway had arrived and had held a short consultation in the library with the red-faced Baronet, afterwards quickly leaving. Then, from the Waldorf Hotel, summoned by telephone, came old Erich Haupt, bustling and full of suppressed excitement.

Soon afterwards, the well-dressed Jim had returned, and had waited in momentary expectancy, ready to dart out into the hall on hearing the sound of cab wheels.

At last they were heard and the man-servant opened the door to Laura, tall, dark-haired and rather good-looking parlour-maid at Pembridge Gardens.

In the well-carpeted hall she recognised the man who had taken her out to dinner and the theatre on several occasions, and advanced excitedly to meet him.

“Oh! Laura!” he cried. “I’m so glad you’ve come. I had your ‘wire,’ and you got my message in reply, of course? You must see the gov’nor. This is his house, and I want you to tell him how the Professor is solving that puzzle.” Then, lowering his voice, he added. “There’s a pot of money in it for both of us, dear, if you keep your wits about you. You recollect what I promised you last Tuesday, don’t you?”

The girl sniggered and nodded. She was a giddy young person, whose head had been turned by the admiration of that good-looking man who called himself “Miller,” and who said he was a lawyer’s clerk. He had promised to become engaged to her and to marry her, provided they could get only a good round sum from “the gov’nor” for the information she could, with such ease, supply.

This had placed the girl upon the constant alert, with the present result.

Her nonchalant admirer led the way across the hall to the library, pushed upon the door, and introduced her to the two men therein—Challas, fat and prosperous, and Haupt, white-bearded and bespectacled.

Then, when the door was closed and she had seated herself, Challas—or “Mr Murray,” as he had been introduced—asked:

“I believe you’re Laura, and you are parlour-maid at Professor Griffin’s, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the girl, timidly, picking at her neat black skirt.

“Well, sir,” explained Jim, bearing out his part of lawyer’s clerk, “some time ago I explained to my young lady here, what we particularly wanted to know, and she’s kept both eyes and ears open. To-day she’s learned something, it seems.”

“What is it?” inquired old Erich, in a deep tone, with his strong German accent.

“Let the young lady explain herself,” urged the man introduced as “Murray,” and they all sat silent.

“Well, sir,” the girl faltered, a moment later. “You see it was like this. After luncheon to-day the Professor, who’d been very hard at work as usual all the morning, took Miss Gwen up to the study to speak to her privately; I listened, and I heard all their conversation. He told her how he’d solved the problem of the cipher.”

“Solved it!” ejaculated the old German, staring at her through his spectacles.

“Yes, sir,” the girl went on. “He told Miss Gwen that he’d tried and tried, but always failed. But he had taken the—well, sir, I think he called it the apoplectic number.”

The German laughed heartily.

“I know,” he said. “You mean the Apocalyptic Number, fräulein—the number 666.”

“That’s it, sir,” she said, a little flurried, while Jim exchanged significant glances with Challas. “He commences at the tenth chapter of Ezekiel, eighth verse, and—and—” Then she fumbled in her pocket, producing a piece of crumpled paper to which she referred. “He takes the first sign of 6,” she went on, “then the eleventh letter, the sixty-sixth letter, and the six hundred and sixty-sixth letter. After this, the fiftieth letter, the two-hundredth letter, the sixth letter, the fiftieth letter, the hundredth letter, the sixtieth letter, and the two-hundredth letter—making six hundred and sixty-six in all. He writes down each of the Hebrew letters, and then reads them off like a book.”

“Wait—ah! wait!” urged the old German. “Let us have that again, fräulein,” and crossing to Sir Felix’s big mahogany writing-table, he opened the Hebrew text of Ezekiel upon it. “Where do you say the Professor commences—at the tenth chapter, eighth verse—eh? Good!” and he hastily found the reference. “Now?”

“Just tell this gentleman,” urged Jim, “tell him exactly what you heard.”

“Well, starting with the eighth verse, he commences with what he termed the first ‘wāw’ sign.”

“Zo! that’s the equivalent of the number 6,” Haupt remarked.

“Then the eleventh letter.”

The old professor counted and wrote down the letter in question in Hebrew characters.

“The sixty-sixth,” said the girl.

The old man counted sixty-six, while Sir Felix and Jannaway watched with intense, almost breathless interest. Here was the secret, snatched from their dreaded opponent, Arminger Griffin!

“And now the six hundred and sixty-sixth,” the girl went on, apparently thoroughly at home with the strangely assorted trio.

This took some time to count, but presently it was accomplished, and the girl time after time gave the old professor directions—the fiftieth letter, the two-hundredth letter, and so on.

“Well?” asked Challas, a few moments later, unable to repress his excitement any longer. “Do you make anything out of it?”

The old man was silent. He was carefully studying the Hebrew characters he had written down.

“Yes!” he gasped. “It is the secret—the great secret!” And he started up, exclaiming, “At last! at last—thanks to fräulein here—we have the key!”

“And we can actually read the cipher?” cried Challas.

“Most certainly,” responded the old scholar. “The secret is ours! Marvellous, how Griffin discovered it.”

“Confound Griffin!” exclaimed Jim Jannaway. “We have to thank Laura, here, for our success! She ought to be well rewarded.”

“And so she shall,” declared the man, whom the girl knew as “Mr Murray.”

“It’s late to-night, and we want Erich to get on at once with the decipher. Besides, the young lady, no doubt, wishes to get back home. Bring her to me to-morrow, or next day—and she shall be well rewarded.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” was the silly girl’s gratified reply, as she looked triumphant into the face of the cunning man who had declared his love for her.

The truth was that, having obtained that most valuable information, the trio wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible. Therefore, with excuses that the household at Pembridge Gardens would be suspicious if she returned too late, they bundled her almost unceremoniously outside, Jim hailing a hansom for her, paying the man, and telling him to drive to Notting Hill Gate Station.

Then, when he re-entered, he exclaimed with a laugh to the Baronet, “That was a cheap ‘quid’s’ worth of information, wasn’t it—eh?”

“Cheap, my dear boy? Why, it’s placed us absolutely on top. The treasure, if it still remains there, is ours!”

“Ah! not too hasty! Not too hasty!” exclaimed the old German in his deep guttural voice, and raising his head from the table. “Up to a certain point, it is all right, but—”

“But what?” the others gasped, in the same breath.

“Well, there’s something wanting, alas! Or else the girl has made a great mistake. After the addition of the numbers to 666, all goes entirely wrong!”

“Goes wrong!” they echoed breathlessly, with one accord.

“Yes. The further reading is quite unintelligible,” he declared, speaking with his strong Teutonic accent.

“The girl seemed quite certain about it!” exclaimed Jim, exchanging glances with Challas.

“Quite,” the other remarked, blandly.

“Well, my dear sirs!” exclaimed Haupt, pointing to his lines of hastily-written Hebrew. “The commencement of the record is here, plain enough. It commences, ‘Remember and forget not, O Israel. Not for thy righteousness—’ But after taking the two-hundredth letter I can discover nothing. Commencing again at six only results in nothing, while a repetition of the fiftieth and the consequent addition is equally futile. No! The confounded girl has made some mistake—and we are once more at a standstill. You see that one false number throws out the whole. The cipher is one of the most ingenious ever conceived.”

“But, my dear Haupt, you know the basis, and where it commences! You will surely succeed!” Challas cried, frantically.

The old man shook his head very dubiously.

“As I have already told you,” he responded in his deep voice, “a single misplaced number throws it all out. We are again at an absolute deadlock—and must remain as ignorant as we were before.”

“But have you made every possible effort?” asked Jim Jannaway, with eager face, as he bent over the old man’s shoulders.

“I have tried all the combinations of the Apocalyptic Number, but they are futile!” replied the old German, laying down his pen, and blinking through his glasses.

“Then the girl has failed us after all,” remarked Challas in a low, hard voice. “Griffin has deciphered the record and we’re absolutely ‘in the cart.’”

“I won’t give up!” declared Jannaway. “I’m hanged if I will! This may be one of Charlie’s tricks, remember! He may have learnt the truth and got hold of Laura to put us on the wrong scent.”

“He may—curse him!” muttered Sir Felix. “Why didn’t he take my warning and get away abroad?”

“Because he’s quite as cute as we are. He knows full well that while he remains in England circumstances will continue to be propitious. So he lives quietly down in Kent, with both eyes very much open.”

Already Jim Jannaway’s ingenious mind was active; already he was devising a way out of the awkward cul-de-sac in which they now found themselves.

“What are we to do?” inquired Sir Felix, with his dark brows knitted at this sudden failure of all his elaborate plans.

“Leave it to me,” replied the good-looking scoundrel, with the utmost confidence. “Let Erich remain quietly within reach—not, however, at the Waldorf—and allow me to carry out the scheme in my own way.”

“I cannot think why the girl made such a mistake,” Challas remarked very disappointedly. “I admit the solution was complicated, but you saw that she was clever enough to write it down.”

“She listened behind a closed door. She may have misunderstood,” Jim remarked.

“Or, what is much more likely,” remarked the German, “Griffin, who has the reputation of being a very shrewd man, does not trust his daughter, and purposely misled her in explaining his secret.”

“No, I don’t think that,” said Jannaway. “Griffin trusts the girl, even though she’s quite young, absolutely and implicitly.”

And thus the three desperate schemers agreed to leave matters in the hands of the most daring and unscrupulous of men, Jim Jannaway, unconscious that the exterior of the mansion was being watched independently by two persons, Doctor Diamond, and a thin-faced, ill-clad woman, who, noticing the Doctor’s keen interest in the place, glanced at him full of surprise and wonder.

Chapter Thirty Two.

Reveals the Cipher Record.

In the study at Pembridge Gardens, the silence only broken by the solemn ticking of the little Sheraton clock, Professor Griffin’s calm, even voice was slowly dictating to Gwen the translation from the Hebrew of the cipher record into English.

The girl, as her father’s amanuensis, had long ago become quite an expert with the typewriter, and in order to make a clear copy she had seated herself at the machine, her slim, white fingers deftly touching the keys.

“If you are ready dear, we’ll begin,” said the old man, drawing his folios of scribbled Hebrew towards him.

“I’m quite ready, dad,” she assured him, pulling her skirt around her at the little table by his side upon which the typewriter was fixed.

“Very well, then. I’ll translate slowly. Forgive me if I hesitate, child, for some of it may perhaps be difficult to put into intelligible or Biblical English. It is really a most astounding statement by a scribe of the Temple.”

Then, after a brief pause, he began to dictate to her the hidden record, which was as follows:

“Remember and forget not, O Israel. Not for thy righteousness, or for the uprightness of thine heart, dost thou go to possess thy land, but for the wickedness of these nations the Lord thy God shall drive them out before thee.

“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God and keep His charge, His statutes and His commandments.

“And know ye this day why this secret record is written, that it may be preserved unto the just... The lapse of years are nearing its filling. The relief of the Doom will come, in spite of all. The people’s right is nearing. The period of the Blood-debts, and that of the Suppression will lose its power, and Israel shall be restored (here follow seven words undecipherable).

“...As the Lord God was against Gog, the land of Magog, the chief prince of Meshech and Tubal, Gomer and all his bands, the house of Togarmah, of the north quarters, so shall He be against all the enemies of Israel that spread over the land. For He will make His Holy name known in the midst of His people Israel, and will not let them pollute His Holy name any more; and the heathen shall know that He is the Lord, the Holy One in Israel...

“And the desolate places of the Land shall become populated, Jerusalem the city shall be restored, the sanctuary shall be set up, and the children of Israel shall be gathered there from the four corners of the earth where they will be found scattered.

“Be thou prepared, and prepare thyself, for the Lord God will make a covenant of peace with His chosen people; it shall be a peace everlasting and His tabernacle shall be set in the midst of them for evermore, even upon Mount Moriah.

“Stay yourselves, and wonder, for unto thee, O children of Israel, are the greater treasures of Solomon’s Temple still preserved. And thus it is therein written in a book that is sealed, so that the wicked of Babylon and the enemies of Israel shall not know. Verily I say unto you the Ark of the Covenant, and the tablets, and the rod of Aaron, and the other sacred objects which Solomon placed in the house of the Lord are still with thee, O Israel, until the wastes be builded, the cities inhabited and the Lord God cometh again unto the mountains of Jerusalem... for your own ways— and the Lord will build up the ruined places—

“Know ye the truth concerning the sacred treasures of Israel, the vessels out of the house of the Lord. In the third year of Jehoiakim, King of Judah, cameth one night into Jerusalem one Hashbbiah, a secret messenger from Antioch, who seeking Zeruiah, the high priest, told him in private that Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, had advanced upon the hosts of Pharaoh-Necho at Carchemish and defeated him, and that the King of Babylon had taken from the river of Egypt unto the river Euphrates all that pertained unto the King of Egypt.

“Now Zeruiah, a man full of learning, remembered the prayer of Solomon, and saw that the prophecy of the fall of Jerusalem was to be fulfilled, and that Judah was to be led into captivity by the Babylonians... And he went out upon the mountain alone and prayed unto the Lord. And the Lord directed him to take counsel of six priests, of whom one was the prophet Ezekiel, to decide how the sacred things of the house of the Lord should be held from the hands of the despoiler.

“And to one of the priests, Uzziah, son of Haziah who came from Gaza, was revealed a hiding-place outside the gates of Jerusalem, beyond the valley of Jehoshaphat, where the treasures could be concealed beneath the earth in a dry-room, in connection with a series of water-tunnels, which could be emptied only by those who knew the secret gate of the waters.

“And the ears of Zeruiah the high priest, heard a voice behind him saying: ‘This is the way, walk ye in it. Place the treasures of the house of Jehovah therein, and seal them with the waters, so that no man shall know.’

“So at night he went with Uzziah onto the place that was revealed, which is on the side of the mount.

“And he saw that it had been used by thieves in the days when Rehoboam was king, and that its entrance had since been unknown to any man.

“And returning to the inner court of the Temple in darkness of night he went into the Holy Place and called unto him Baruch, the son of Neriah, Sherebbiah, the scribe, Ezekiel the priest, and the five other priests. And together both that night and the next and through many nights did they carry forth the most treasured objects of the Temple down into the valley, letting no man know that they were being taken from the house of the Lord.

“For since the beginning of the world men have not seen such great treasure as was in the darkness removed from the house of Jehovah, from the defenceless city upon which the judgment of God was set. Woe unto Jerusalem for Nebuchadnezzar was hastening upon the City of Judah, and the hour of her destruction was approaching.

“And they took from the Holy of Holies the Ark of the Covenant, together with the stone tablets which Moses put there at Horeb, the pot of manna and the staff of Aaron and the two cherubims of fine gold, the Urim and Thummim with two rubies of great size and a multitude of other gems set around them... And of the other treasures of the house of the Lord did they bring forth; of basons of pure gold made by Solomon which Shishak, King of Egypt had restored, three thousand and forty; of the chargers of gold eight hundred and two; of the candlesticks of gold from the oracle four; of the lamps of gold six hundred and ten, of the tongs of gold six hundred, and of the smaller tablets of gold four score and five; of spoons of gold two thousand; of censers of gold one thousand and forty-six, and of the bowls which Solomon commanded to be made of the gold of Ophir two thousand and seventy... Furthermore of the gems and precious stones of Solomon they took seven ox-loads of fine gold, three talents together with the archives of the Temple in secret; so that of the vessels of gold there remained only about six thousand and these Nebuchadnezzar afterwards carried off to Babylon, where they were dedicated unto his god Belus—

“It came even to pass that when the King of Babylon and his host searched for the other holy vessels of the Temple they found them not, for they knew not their hiding-place, and none knew save the priests and the two scribes. Wherefore afterwards in my captivity in Babylon, I, Michaiah the scribe, invented this secret writing by which the place of concealment of the tablets of Moses should not be lost. Secure shall they remain, with the great treasure, the war-chest of the house of Israel, until the coming of the Messiah, who alone may open their place of concealment, in order that He may furnish proof of the faith. He hath chosen Jerusalem that His name may be there.

“And be it now known unto you in what place to seek for the chamber of the sacred Ark. At the lower platform of the brazen altar of the Temple turn thy face to the southward, and measure four reeds and thirty-three legal cubits, unto the north end of the Pool of Siloh. Thence, to the sunrise, measure one thousand and fifty cubits unto the highest point on the mount of Solomon’s idolatry. Face unto the south-west, and measure ten-score cubits and four, down to the hillside to the face of stone. From the cleft fifteen cubits.

“Moreover, at the gate of the Priests at the north-west corner of the sanctuary, face the south-east, and pace four hundred and three cubits unto the centre of the tomb in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and thence to the south nine reeds and three-score cubits, which bringest thee unto the same wall of rock, fifteen cubits from the cleft.

“And the distance from En-rogel is, to the north-east, of cubits three hundred and ninety-four, where the entrance faceth directly the bend of the Valley of Hinnom.

“Of the three entrances, two are impassable. Know ye therefore that the third is in the face of the rock, concealed from the sight of all men at the point where the valleys converge, at the base of the mount, from the cleft fifteen legal cubits.

“To learn the whereabouts of the secret chamber of the Ark, O ye Israel, measure from the hidden entrance up the face of the rock and over the mount with thine eyes set to the east two reeds and fourscore cubits and three, till thou comest to the gate of stone set in the rock which, when opened, will let forth the flood to admit thee from the Valley of Jehoshaphat.

“O hear me, ye enemies of the Lord! Curses, yea, sixty times six curses shall be upon the head of any who dare to attempt to violate the sacred treasure-house of Israel.

“Moreover the Lord hath performed the word that He spake, and Judah remaineth beneath the heel of the oppressor.

“Now therefore these acts are not written in the book of the chronicles of Israel lest thine enemies search to recover the holy things.

“Hearken O Lord God of Israel to the supplications of Thy servant. If Thy people be put to the worse before the enemy, because they have sinned against Thee, and shall return and confess Thy name, then hear Thou from the heavens and bring them again unto the land which Thou gavest to them and to their fathers.

“Wherefore I beseech Thee to stay Thine hand, and seek not to discover what is hidden until the Lord have given rest unto your brethren, as well as unto you, and until they also possess the Land, which the Lord your God hath given them.

“For he who entereth therein shall be accursed. Cursed shalt thou be in the city, and cursed shalt thou be in the field. Cursed shalt thou be when thou comest in, and cursed shalt thou be when thou goest out The Lord shall send thee cursing, vexation and rebuke, in all that thou settest thine hand unto for to do, until thou be destroyed, and until thou perish quickly; because of the wickedness of thy doings. Fear the Lord thy God.

“These words am I commanded by Zeruiah the high priest to write in our captivity in secret script, that only those of the faith shall know and shall understand.”

And when the girl had finished typing, she raised her head, and stared at her father in abject wonder. Here was the complete solution of the problem! The truth was written there!

Chapter Thirty Three.

In the Night.

Laura, the parlour-maid, had been let in at the area-door by the cook, to whom she had made her excuses for the lateness of the hour, and had crept up to her room, fully satisfied at having assisted her good-looking lover. She was, of course, in utter ignorance that “Mr Miller” was the person to whom Miss Gwen’s mysterious absence from home had been due. Otherwise she certainly would not have fallen into the trap.

Meanwhile, in the study, with the typed folios of the cipher before him, the old Professor sat making certain explanations to his daughter and answering her eager questions.

“We ought to telegraph to Frank the first thing in the morning, dad!” she cried, when she had recovered from her excitement at learning the secret.

“I have not yet decided upon my course of action, dear,” was his slow, deliberate answer. “To-night we are dealing with this astounding record of the authenticity of which there seems not the slightest doubt. I have been using the exact copy of the St. Petersburg text of Ezekiel—the oldest known manuscript. It is evident from the word of Michaiah the scribe, that, having invented the cipher, he altered certain words of the original text of Ezekiel with Ezekiel’s knowledge and consent, in order to include in the book this secret record.”

“It agrees entirely with Biblical history, does it not?” asked the girl.

“Yes. Several hitherto uncertain facts are here explained. For instance, it is now made quite clear that Shishak, King of Egypt, restored to the Temple certain of the basins of gold made by Solomon. Again, Michaiah shows that none of the sacred vessels secreted were afterwards used in the Temple. Those used in the second temple were certainly those carried away by Nebuchadnezzar and restored by Cyrus.”

Then rising he took from a cupboard a large roll-map of the environs of Jerusalem issued by the Palestine Exploration Fund, and both studied it very closely.

“What is meant by the mount of Solomon’s idolatry?” asked Gwen.

“It is now known as the Mount of the Offence,” he answered. “Here it is—about half a mile almost due south of the temple mount. Sometimes it is called the Mount of Scandal, for upon it Solomon and some of his successors built high places, altars to Moloch, to Ashtoreth, and to other strange gods. (1 Kings xi, 5-7.) I recollect the hill quite well. On the summit is now a Benedictine Monastery, while the slopes are occupied by a Jewish cemetery. The Turks call it Baten el Hawa (Bottle of the Winds). The measurements given seem to be most explicit, the entrance to the chamber being on the west side of the extreme south of the mount, facing the sudden bend in the Valley of Hinnom. See, here,” and he pointed to the spot upon the map. “And at the east side, at some spot to be determined by measurements, are the secret flood-gates by which the waters can be released. The ‘dry-room’ is evidently situated above the water-tunnels, at such a height that the waters never rise there.”

“And can those ancient measures be worked out to modern measures?”

“Yes. We practically know almost exactly what was the reed, and what was the legal cubit of the days of Jehoiakim as compared with the ordinary cubit. Surveyors will have no difficulty in finding the exact spot indicated.”

“You do not think, dad, that after the restoration and rebuilding of the Temple that the treasures were recovered?”

“Certainly not. If so, we should certainly have had some record in Holy Writ of the Ark of the Covenant and the tablets. But there is none. Since a few days before Nebuchadnezzar’s hosts entered Jerusalem, the Ark has never been seen. My firm belief is that it is still in its place of concealment as stated by Michaiah the scribe.”

“And what shall you do now, dad?” inquired the girl, her elbows upon the table, as she looked up into his face. “You have solved a problem that will startle the whole world!”

“Yes, dear,” he sighed, passing his hand across his brow. “It is so remarkable that I hardly know how to act. I must, of course, see Diamond and Farquhar, and consult with them. One thing is quite certain; for the present we must keep this matter a most profound secret. If our enemies were to gain wind of it, they would send out at once and purchase the land for themselves.”

“But they can’t know, dad.”

“Ah, dear! I’m—I’m suspicious. With such enormous possibilities before us, who knows that our secret enemies may not have bribed our servants,” he said. “For that reason, Gwen dear—and please forgive me—fearing that there might be eaves-droppers, I purposely, when explaining to you the cipher this afternoon, rearranged and omitted some of the second portion of it, so that our secret could not possibly leak out.”

“But surely, dad!” cried the girl. “You don’t suspect Laura or Mullingar, or Kate, being in the employ of our enemies, do you?”

“My child, it is best to be always wary in a matter such as this. As your friend Mr Mullet has already told you, they appear to be most unscrupulous.”

“I wonder where Mr Mullet is—why he doesn’t write or telephone to me, as he promised.”

“Don’t distress yourself about him,” urged the old Professor. “We hold the secret, and for to-night at least that is sufficient.”

And then, after gathering the typed sheets together he put a fastener through them and locked the precious decipher carefully in one of the drawers of his writing-table. Then a few moments later, it already being two o’clock in the morning, they both ascended to their rooms.

When upon the landing, the old man kissed his daughter tenderly on the brow as was his habit, saying:

“Good-night, my child. I fear you must be very tired. But think!—we have completed our task. We alone know the great secret which will convulse the whole civilised world!”

In her own pretty room Gwen threw herself into the cosy chintz-covered armchair before the fire, and pondered deeply.

She was thinking of Frank—ever of him. Though she had been fond of flirtation, and though perhaps she had committed grave breaches of the convenances before she had known young Farquhar, yet all had now changed. She would give her very life for him—for was she not his, and his alone?

Over her spread the thought of the man who had posed as Frank’s friend—that man who had laughed defiance in her face, the man who was in league with her father’s enemies. Who was he? What was he? she wondered. Then there rose before her the recollection of the man Mullet, the man with the ugly past, as he himself had admitted, yet nevertheless devoted to his little daughter, and a gentleman. She longed to see him again—to introduce him to her lover, and to tell the latter the whole strange truth.

To her, it seemed as though Mullet feared the man who had so cleverly entrapped her, just as he was the “cat’s-paw” of the bloated red-faced man who had raised his hand to strike her.

Who were these people? she wondered. Why did Mullet fear them?

Having exchanged her dress for an easy robe-de-chambre, she sat before the fire plaiting her long dark tresses, her eyes fixed upon the fire, now fast dying away.

She had knowledge of that marvellous secret—the whereabouts of the bewildering treasure of Israel. Yet how would it all end? Why had her father suspicion of spies in their own home? What could he suspect?

She wondered, as she had often wondered, what conclusion her father had formed regarding her mysterious absence from home, and often, in her moments of reflection, she found herself puzzled and pondering regarding her unconsciousness on that never-to-be-forgotten night when she had found herself alone and helpless in the hands of the man who had laughed at her innocence and dismay.

She dare not tell Frank. It was her secret—a dark secret which she had resolved to keep at all hazards—one that he should never know.

“But he is mine again!” she murmured to herself, a sweet smile of contentment playing about her lips. “I have been a fickle girl, I know, but, after all, every girl is entitled to have one good time in her life. I’ve had mine, and I have found Frank. I love him, and he loves me. I know he does. And to-morrow dad will ‘wire’ him, and I shall see him again. Ah! what will he say, I wonder—now that dad has discovered the secret. Dear old dad! He deserves all the kudos he’ll get from the great discovery, for he’s worked hard—worked night and day almost. And the ugly little Doctor? I wonder how he’ll take it? One thing is plain, that we have outwitted that red-faced scoundrel and his friends. We know the truth, while they are still in ignorance.”

For a long time she sat, her pretty head, with its two long plaits secured by blue ribbons, pillowed upon the muslin-covered cushion in the low comfortable armchair, her bare feet thrust into slippers, and upon her sweet countenance an expression of calm content.

The little clock upon her mantelshelf, chiming the half-hour—half-past three—aroused her from her reverie, and she shivered, for the fire had died away and the room had now become chilly. So preoccupied had she been that she had not noticed that the fire was already out.

As she stirred herself, she suddenly recollected that, downstairs in the study, she had left her book in which she was greatly interested, and which she wanted to continue when she awoke in the morning. It was a heavy work of one of the German philosophers which she was studying, for since leaving school she had done a vast amount of reading, especially French and German literature. She was highly educated and cultured, and, unlike the average young girl of our twentieth century, she had not put aside her books with her ankle-skirts.

In her long trailing robe of pale eau-de-nil she crossed the room, and seating herself at her writing-table scribbled a note to her dressmaker, which she had forgotten. Then having put a stamp upon it, she quickly opened her door, crept softly past her father’s room, fearing to wake him, and down the thickly carpeted stairs where her slippered feet fell noiselessly.

She had no candle, but she knew her way about the house quite well in the dark, and also knew where to put her hand upon most of the electric switches.

Creeping softly down, afraid every moment that the stairs would creak—for stairs always have a horrid habit of creaking in the silence of the night—she carried the letter in her hand for the purpose of placing it in the rack in the study which Laura always cleared when she went to the room in the morning, and Kate took the letters to the post-office down at the corner.

Reaching the landing she crossed it to the study-door, but as she did so she saw, to her surprise, a light issuing from the crack beneath.

Her father had evidently returned there to continue his work, as he sometimes did when unable to sleep.

For a second she hesitated whether she should enter, but making up her mind suddenly, she placed her fingers upon the handle and opened the door.

Next instant, however, uttering a low cry, she stood upon the threshold, rigid as one petrified.

Chapter Thirty Four.

“Silence for Silence!”

“You!”

It was the only word which the girl uttered, but its tone showed her horror and indignation.

The green-shaded light was, she saw, switched on at the writing-table, and as she entered, there before her, seated in her father’s chair, was the man who had posed as Frank’s friend, “Captain Wetherton!”

As she had slowly opened the door he had raised his head, pale and startled. But only for a second. When he recognised who it was, he rose and, bowing, smiled with perfect sangfroid.

He had entered the house with the false latch-key which he had had made from the wax impression he had taken of the key which Gwen had carried on that night of the false assignation. His only fear had been, however, a meeting with the girl Laura.

Now that he saw that it was not she, he only smiled triumphantly.

“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s me! Are you very surprised?”

Instantly she recognised that, upon the blotting-pad, was lying open the precious document which she herself had typed. He had opened the drawer, abstracted it, and read it.

He, her enemy, knew their secret!

“By what right, pray, are you here, sir?” she demanded, advancing into the room boldly, and facing him.

“I have no right. I’m here just by my own will,” was his quick, defiant response.

“This is my father’s house, and I shall alarm him,” she said determinedly. “You have no right thus to pry into his private affairs!”

“I have to decide that, Miss Griffin,” he said, as over his dark face spread that evil smile she remembered so well.

Having risen from the chair, he had now advanced closely to her. She noticed that he wore thick woollen socks over his boots, so as to muffle his footsteps, while upon his hands were a pair of grey suède gloves which appeared too large for him. Jim Jannaway had been a man of many precautions, ever since his finger-prints had been taken on a certain memorable day at Ipswich police-station, prior to his conviction.

“But,” he laughed, examining her from head to toe, “you really look charming, my dear little girl—even better than when in your walking kit. Why!” he exclaimed, pointing across the room. “Why—what’s that—over there?”

She turned suddenly, taking her eyes off him for an instant, but saw nothing. His ruse succeeded, for that instant was sufficient for him to slip behind her and close the door, turning the key in the lock.

“I must apologise for doing this in your own house, Miss Griffin, but I fear that we may be overheard,” he said. “Now I want to have a very serious chat with you.”

“I wish to say nothing to you, sir,” she replied drawing herself up haughtily, the train of her pretty gown sweeping the floor. “I only demand to know what you are doing here, reading my father’s papers.”

“And suppose I refuse to tell you—eh?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Then I shall scream, and alarm the household. They will hand you over to the police.”

“And if you were so ill-advised as to do that, Miss Griffin,” answered the fellow impudently, advancing a step nearer to her, and looking straight into her face. “Well—you would suffer very severely for it. That’s all.”

“I’m prepared to take all the consequences,” was her calm reply.

“Take care!” he said threateningly, in a low hoarse voice. “I’m a desperate man when driven into a corner.”

“You mean rather that you’re a coward when cornered,” she said coldly. “I am glad to have this opportunity of meeting, in order to repay you for the gross injustice which you have done me.”

“You’re a little fool!” he said in a hard tone. “Keep quiet, or somebody will hear you.”

“You entrapped me in that place. I have now entrapped you—in my own house,” she exclaimed, with a look of triumph.

“Not for long,” he said determinedly. “Do you know that I could strangle you where you stand, and still get clear. Even though you screamed. I already have a rope on the balcony yonder, down into the street. But don’t be alarmed. I have no wish to injure you, my dear little girl—not in the least. We will just make an arrangement, and cry quits.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, listen. You’ve discovered me here, and you could give me away. But I want to buy your silence.”

“Buy my silence!” she exclaimed, staring at him. “Yes. Why not? You must buy mine. Shall we not then be quits?”

She regarded him with a puzzled air. He was her bitterest foe, and she was wondering what was the true meaning of the suggestion. She was undecided, too, whether not to alarm the house, instead of parleying further. She had caught the fellow in her father’s room wearing the apparel of the modern burglar, therefore the police would, without doubt, arrest him as such.

Suddenly her mind was made up, and with a quick movement she rushed across to the electric bell beside the fireplace.

He gave vent to a short dry laugh of triumph, the reason of which was next second plain. The little porcelain push had been broken, and the contact disarranged.

Jim Jannaway always took precautions. He was a cool and calculating scoundrel.

She turned upon him in quick anger, and he saw that she intended to scream for help.

“One moment, if you please, Miss Griffin,” he cried in a low voice. “Just hear my suggestion before you raise the alarm and compel me to depart hurriedly through the window. A word now will save both of us a great deal of unnecessary bother afterwards. You’re a very brave little girl, and I admire you for it. Most other girls, on seeing me here, would have gone into hysterics, or fainted. But you’re a little ‘brick.’”

“Thank you, this is really no time for compliments,” was her cold, resentful reply. “Please say what you have to say, and quickly.”

She had managed to cross the room half-way, and from where she now stood she could see that the precious document she had typed lay open at its last page. The fellow had evidently read it all!

“Well,” he said, in that easy-going manner of his that she found so extremely irritating. “As far as I can at present discern, Miss Griffin, the game is a drawn one. I can quite—”

“I consider it blackguardly impertinence on your part to enter my father’s house at night, and read his private papers,” she protested, her face pale and determined.

“My dear girl, to me your opinion of my actions really doesn’t matter,” he laughed. “I wanted to discover something, and have adopted the easiest means of doing so.”

“Even at risk of being arrested?”

“Oh, I shan’t be arrested,” he laughed. “Don’t think I’m afraid of that. Why, my dear girl, perhaps you wouldn’t believe it, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been in this very room. I know what’s in all those drawers yonder, and even the balance in your father’s banker’s pass-book.”

“You’ve been here before!” gasped the girl astounded. “How did you get in?”

“Why, with your own key. It was easy enough. Your servants never bolt the front door. They really ought to be more careful, you know,” he laughed.

She hesitated for a moment, and in that slight hesitation he, crafty malefactor that he was, recognised that he had triumphed.

“I may presume, I suppose, that you’ve read that document upon the writing-table?” she asked a moment later.

“I have—every word of it,” he replied, with a polite bow.

“That is why you came here?”

“It was. I really expected to experience greater trouble in finding it. I opened only three drawers before coming across it.”

“Probably you’d like a copy of it,” she said, with bitter sarcasm.

“Thank you, no. I have a very excellent memory, and can recollect all I require. Besides, I’ve taken a few notes,” was the bold and defiant answer, “All I would request of you, my dear girl, is to keep a still tongue in your head, go up to bed, and forget all about this unexpected meeting. Such a course will be much the best for you, I assure you.”

“You—my enemy, are trying to advise me as a friend—eh? This is really amusing! I tell you quite frankly that I intend to give you over to the police. You cleverly entrapped me, and now from me you may expect no clemency.”

“I want none,” he laughed. “But if I’m arrested, your friend, ‘Red Mullet,’ shall also see the inside of a prison again. I promise you that.”

“He is innocent of this burglary,” she said.

“But he isn’t innocent of certain other little matters about which Scotland Yard will be only too delighted to know,” replied the fellow, with an evil grin. “So if you don’t want him to go to ‘quod’—and he’s been pretty good to you, I think—you’d better remain silent about to-night. And there’s the other matter—the—”

And he paused, and looked straight into her face, without concluding.

“Well?” she asked in a hard voice, holding the train of her robe with one hand, and still facing him boldly. “And what is the other matter, pray?”

“I wish to tell you quite plainly that if you choose to be a little fool, you’ll take the consequences. They’ll fall on you, and pretty heavily too. Trust me to escape them.”

“And I tell you that I intend to be a little fool, as you so politely put it,” was her fearless response. “It is my duly to my father to go at once and tell him of my discovery. And I will!”

“Very well,” he answered quite calmly, his evil eyes still fixed upon hers. “Go. You are perfectly at liberty. To me, it is of no great consequence, but to you it will mean both the ruin of your reputation and the loss of your lover!”

“How?” she gasped quickly, her face in an instant as pale as death.

“How?” he echoed in a fierce low whisper, advancing until he was close to the girl. “Cannot you see that I shall tell Frank Farquhar the truth of your absence from your home—that you met me, and stayed with me in those rooms!”

“You scoundrel!” she cried, drawing away from him, her cheeks flushed with sudden anger. “You threatened this before—you despicable coward, to thus try and take advantage of a woman’s good name! You destroyed that false telegram, so that I should not have it to show as proof!”

“You could get a copy from the post-office, I daresay,” he laughed airily. “But I merely make plain what is my intention, and that’s why I’ve come to the conclusion that the game between us is a drawn one.”

“Your threats have no terror for me!” she exclaimed, turning fiercely upon him. He saw that in her big eyes was determination and defiance, and was surprised.

“Then shout away, my dear girl—scream the house down, if you like,” he laughed coolly, as though with utter unconcern. “But just let me put things straight again first.” Then walking to the writing-table he took the translation of the decipher, replaced it in its drawer, and relocked it with a key he drew from his pocket.

His coolness was amazing, his cunning, extraordinary. The long window leading to the balcony over the portico was ajar. He had fixed a thin silken rope to the railings ready for escape to the street in case of necessity.

“Your conduct is abominable!” she ejaculated. “What harm have I done you that I should deserve this?”

“My dear girl, my conduct is only abominable of necessity, I assure you,” he argued with an impudent smile. “Our compact is simple enough. You do not wish to lose the man you love. Indeed, why should you?”

“Ah! why indeed?” she cried. “I have you alone to thank for all the evil suspicions cast upon me.”

“You have told them nothing—of course. You’re far too clever for that—eh?” he remarked, standing easily before her with his hands in his pockets. “Besides, what could you say?”

“I could say nothing,” she replied bitterly. “I only know that you lied to me, by posing as Frank’s friend.”

“My dear little girl,” he answered with an arrogant laugh. “I was compelled to tell you a fairy-story, because—well, shall I tell you the truth?—because I was so very anxious for the loan of your latch-key.”

“Then why was I kept there a prisoner? Why did that red-faced blackguard come to me, and threaten me?”

“I had nothing whatever to do with that. I was not there,” he protested.

“You enticed me into the hateful place by saying that Frank was in hiding there,” she replied firmly.

“For the reason I have already explained. I apologise. Can I do more, Miss Griffin?”

“Apologise!” she echoed in a hoarse whisper. “You apologise! I wish for no apology!”

“But you desire your own happiness, and can secure it, providing I am silent,” he said in a low, clear deliberate voice. “Think what it would mean to you if you gave the alarm—the wrecking of your own life, and the arrest of your friend Mullet! But I give you perfect liberty to choose your future course of action. I have no wish to coerce you.”

“You could not, even if you wished!” she declared, yet through her brain surged thoughts of what the loss of Frank would mean to her.

The man before her was a blackguard. He had shown himself as such. With perfect coolness he could besmirch her fair name in such a manner that it could never again be cleared.

At that moment the girl was fighting for her own honour as well as her father’s secret which this man had gained. It was a secret no longer—it could never be. Their enemies had triumphed!

She set her teeth hard, and tried to think.

Jim Jannaway was quick to notice her change of manner.

“Remember,” he remarked, “one word to your father regarding this visit of mine, and your lover and your father shall know the truth!”

“They will know whatever lies you invent regarding me!” she said in a voice of intense bitterness.

He only shrugged his shoulders and smiled. She, a mere innocent girl, had no chance against his quick intellect, sharpened as it had been by years of crafty cunning and double dealing. To the “crooks” and silk-hatted adventurers of London the very name of Jim Jannaway was synonymous of all that was perfection in kid-gloved blackguardism.

“Well,” he said a moment later, “I haven’t time for further argument, Miss Griffin. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. Perhaps the front door would be a less conspicuous exit for me.”

And so saying he stepped out upon the balcony, untied the silken rope from the railing, rolled it up swiftly, and placed it in his pocket.

A moment later he was again standing before her.

She stood glaring at him with a look of bitter hatred, while he recognised that her lips were already effectually sealed.

She dare not risk the suspicions which he could with a word place upon her. Hence he, alas! held her in his power!

“Remember!” he said, “I shall say nothing until you dare to give me away. It is a compact between us. Silence for silence!”

Then, without further word, he moved across to the door, unlocked it, and next second had disappeared noiselessly down the stairs.

And with him had gone the great secret of the hiding-place of the treasure of Israel which her father believed to be his—and his alone!

The girl cast herself into a chair, and gave way to a paroxysm of tears.

Jim Jannaway and his friends had again triumphed.

Chapter Thirty Five.

Shows Further Complications.

At nine o’clock next morning the hunch-backed Doctor, pale and eager, was closeted with the Professor, to whom he related what he had witnessed while watching outside the house in Berkeley Square on the previous night.

In consequence of this, the good-looking Laura was summoned to the study, closely questioned, and returning impudent answers, was summarily dismissed and left the house.

“So it is Sir Felix Challas who is desirous of ascertaining our secret,” remarked Aminger Griffin, greatly surprised, “He is such a great churchman, and such a high-minded philanthropist, that I can hardly believe that he should employ such methods. Why, only this very week I saw in the papers that he has made a fourth donation to Guy’s Hospital of two thousand pounds.”

“He is a swindler, hiding himself beneath the cloak of religion,” declared Diamond emphatically. “I have seen Mullet this morning, and he has promised to call and have a chat with you. He will come to-day, I expect.”

“Well,” exclaimed the Professor with some hesitation, and with a smile of triumph upon his lips, “we need have no further fear of our enemies, Doctor, for we have forestalled them. Yesterday I succeeded in deciphering the whole record in Ezekiel, and convincing myself of the existence of a similar cipher in Deuteronomy. I have here the complete translation in English.” And he placed the document in the Doctor’s trembling hands.

The ugly little man read it through eagerly, and then sat staring straight into the Professor’s face.

“Then the secret of the treasure of Israel is revealed!” he gasped in a low voice, as though fearing to be overheard. “But is it not probable that your servant listened, and heard you tell Miss Gwen the manner in which the cipher could be read?”

“No doubt. But fearing that, in a matter of this magnitude I might be the victim of treachery, I deviated slightly from the correct key, in such a manner as to throw out the whole reading!” laughed the Professor. “I told my daughter so afterwards.”

“Mullet has told me a good deal. I stayed with him in his rooms last night,” the Doctor said. “It appears that Sir Felix Challas’s methods are, on occasions, so unscrupulous as to be criminal. In his employ he has a dangerous scoundrel named Jim Jannaway—a thief and gaol-bird, though his exterior is that of a gentleman. He has served several terms of imprisonment for burglary. To this man the philanthropist of Berkeley Square, who received a Baronetcy for his good deeds, leaves his dirty work. From what Mullet told me I should not be surprised that it was he who arranged that your servant should spy upon you.”

“Mullet is also an outsider, is he not?” remarked the Professor with some suspicion.

“Of course, but of necessity. Though he may rob the rich, he prides himself on never having done a mean action to a poor person, or a woman.”

“Ah! Doctor,” laughed Griffin. “I see you believe in degrees of crime—eh?”

“In this case, yes. ‘Red Mullet’ has greatly assisted us. It was he who telegraphed to me from his retreat in Kent to watch the house in Berkeley Square. And now he has explained to me many points which were hitherto mysteries.”

“We need have no fear of our enemies now,” remarked the Professor, as at that moment Gwen, looking fresh in her white blouse and navy serge skirt, entered the room brightly and greeted the ugly little hunchback. “It only remains for us to call Farquhar into conference, and decide how we shall act. Somebody should proceed at once to Jerusalem, decide the exact spot, and purchase the land. We can have time for further operations when once the land on both sides of the hill is ours. Farquhar has promised that Sir George will find the necessary funds for that, if we so desire.”

Gwen, holding her breath, walked to the window and looked out upon the gloomy London street.

Her position was hideous. Her father believed that the great secret was his—and his alone. Frank would believe it—and by remaining silent she would be misleading her lover into a false sense of security.

She knew, alas! that their enemies would hesitate at nothing—that the Treasure of Israel was already lost to them—lost to the Jews for ever!

With her back turned to her father and his visitor she stood listening, her clenched hands trembling. What could she do? How could she act?

Suppose she told the truth, and bore the inevitable blow?

“It’s certainly fortunate that you did not explain to Miss Gwen the actual mode of deciphering the record,” the Doctor was remarking, “for Sir Felix and Haupt, at any rate, cannot gain the knowledge we have gained.”

“Sir Felix—who—dad?” inquired the girl, turning quickly.

“Sir Felix Challas, my dear,” was the Professor’s reply. “The Doctor has discovered that it is he who is our enemy. He poses as a great philanthropist as you well know. His portrait is in this week’s Tatler—over yonder.”

The girl crossed quickly, took up the paper, and searched the pages eagerly. Then when her gaze fell upon the picture, the journal nearly fell from her nerveless fingers.

She recognised the brutal, red-faced man who had been her inquisitor, and who would have struck her had not Mullet interfered, and stood her champion.

Beneath the portrait was a laudatory notice of the hypocrite’s noble contribution to the funds of charities of London.

“You see, Doctor,” her father went on, not noticing the girl’s blanched face and horror-struck eyes, “Erich Haupt will only be entirely misled by the statement I made to Gwen. By using the cipher in that manner, he will obtain a jumble of Hebrew letters which represent nothing. No. We need not fear Sir Felix and his anti-Semitic views in the least. We alone know the place of concealment of the sacred treasure of Israel.”

“I have already telegraphed to Farquhar at Horsford. He should be here before twelve.”

“And when he comes, we shall decide what to do,” remarked the Professor. “I think he should go out at once to Palestine. Only one of us must go to purchase the land, otherwise suspicion might be excited. And if so, then good-bye to all our chances.”

“Sir Felix, if he cannot obtain the secret, may endeavour to upset our plans out there,” remarked Gwen. “He is a man of wealth and power, dad.”

“But he does not possess the information which we possess. Professor Holmboe’s secret is now ours—and ours alone!” he declared triumphantly.

“Could we not get Mr Mullet to assist us, dad?” suggested the girl puzzled to distraction as to how she should act. She was divided between her love and her duty.

“No. He will only help us in his own way,” responded Doctor Diamond.

The girl walked back to the long window which led out upon the balcony—the window which Jim Jannaway had been prepared to use as an emergency exit—and stood with her hands clasped behind her back, while the two men further discussed what they believed to be a most satisfactory situation.

The land on both sides of the mount must be purchased in secret, they agreed, and not a word must leak out regarding the discovery until actual operations had commenced. Then the Professor was to launch his startling statement upon the world in the form of an article in the Contemporary. After the purchase of the land, the Professor, the Doctor, and an engineer were to go out to Jerusalem and make secret investigation. The surveyor, whom Griffin proposed to send out with Farquhar to make secret survey upon the measurements contained in the cipher, was a young man in business at Richmond, a friend of his, to whom he proposed to give a small interest in the syndicate.

“We are agreed, I suppose, Doctor, that at all hazards the most sacred relics and the archives of the Kingdom of Israel which are no doubt preserved there, shall be restored to the Jews?” Griffin said.

“Most certainly,” was Diamond’s reply. “This man Challas intends, it seems, to revenge himself upon the Jews by desecrating the treasure.”

“But, dad!” cried the girl, “surely he would never be allowed to desecrate sacred relics!”

“If he discovered them upon land he had purchased he might very easily destroy them before he could be prevented,” her father pointed out. “There lies the great danger. Fortunately, however, he will be unable to do that. Farquhar must go out to Jerusalem at the earliest possible moment. And I’ll get young Pettit, the surveyor, up from Richmond this afternoon.”

Gwen’s face was blanched, she stood rooted there, still staring down into the street, inexpressibly gloomy that winter’s morning. Lights were in the rooms of some of the houses opposite, while outside Notting Hill Gate Station, at the end of the road, the big electric globes were shedding their brilliance, as they did each night.

How should she act? She was calmly contemplating what might occur. Her head reeled, for she had not closed her eyes since she had last stood in that room face to face with her enemy—the man who had filched the secret from them and departed.

His threats rang in her ears. If she revealed the truth, then Mullet would be arrested, and in addition a foul lie, which alas! she could not refute, would be told both her lover and her father! She shuddered and held her breath. Had she not already promised secrecy to Mullet! Could she, after his self-sacrifice, deliberately bring ruin upon him?

No. She was hemmed in on every side by the impossible. And even if she told the truth, it was now too late, alas! Sir Felix Challas, great financier that he was, had agents in all the capitals, and possessed secret channels of information against which their little combination would be utterly powerless. Alas! they were now only tilting at the wind.

That red-faced blatant parvenu, that Jew-hating hypocrite who did his evil doings behind his moneybags, had triumphed!

Whatever she said, whatever allegation she made against the Baronet or Jim Jannaway—for she now for the first time had learnt his name—would make no difference. The bitterness of it all must fall upon her, and her alone.

Her young heart was crushed, stifled, broken.

If she spoke, or if she were silent, it was the same—she must play her lover false.

Chapter Thirty Six.

The Victim of Shame.

The tall red-moustached man stood in the dining-room with Gwen Griffin.

She had seen his approach from the window, and dashing downstairs, had admitted him. Taking him at once into the room she had closed the door, and in a few brief hasty words had admitted him to her confidence.

“What!” he cried, staring at her in amazement. “Jim Jannaway has dared to come here, to read the documents, and then to threaten you with this! Look here, Miss Griffin, the matter is much more serious for you than I had imagined. Those fellows, Felix and Jim, will stick at nothing, but they shall not ruin your reputation. Leave that to ‘Red Mullet’.”

“But, Mr Mullet,” she cried, “he threatens your arrest if I tell my father the truth. Besides, have I not promised secrecy to you?”

“My dear child,” he said, “go at once and tell your father the truth. Then leave the rest to me.”

“But what will he think of me?” she asked, her face blanched to the lips.

“Let your father—indeed, let the world—think what it will of you, Miss Griffin. You are an innocent victim of the avarice of these men, just as I am. I stood your friend that day when I released you from bondage—and I will stand your friend still!”

“They possess our secret.”

“That is a most unfortunate fact,” he admitted. “Still we must try and defy them. I will do my best. But if I fail,” he added in a low earnest voice, “it will not be for want of endeavour, I promise you. I tried to save you and your father once—and I will try again. We must win even if we make some sacrifice.”

“But do not imperil yourself,” she urged. “Do not, I beg of you, Mr Mullet.”

“I shall act with both firmness and discretion, and if we but unmask these blackguards who have tried again to entrap you, we shall have done a service to society at large. Unfortunately,” he added with a sigh, “my own hands are none too clean.”

“You will see my father. The Doctor is upstairs with him,” she urged.

“No—later!” he exclaimed hastily. “At the present moment not a second is to be lost. I must go to them, and see what we can do by firmness. Tell your father of Jim’s visit here, but do not say you have seen me, and say nothing regarding the past—remember, nothing. Promptness of action is now our only safeguard.”

And leaving the girl standing there bewildered, he passed out of the room, and next second she heard the front door closed behind her.

Of his power to avert the natural flow of events she had but little confidence. He was beneath the thumb of Sir Felix Challas, therefore, how could he hope to wrest back the secret which Jim Jannaway had learned?

In any case, the good-looking scoundrel to whom a woman’s honour was of no account, would carry out his threat, and Frank must, ere long, turn his back upon her, as he had done before.

Her heart beat fast, and she placed her hand upon her breast, as if to stay its anxious throbbing.

Mullet, though an adventurer himself, was right. It was her duty to tell her father the truth, and not allow him to continue further in that sense of false security.

Yet at what cost must her statement be made! At cost, alas! of her own honour.

Ere long she would not be able to look Frank in the face, for Jim Jannaway would lie so circumstantially that both her father and he would believe it to be the shameful truth. Mullet would not admit the past. “Say nothing regarding the past,” he had urged! He had some strong motive in this—a motive that must, of itself, prevent him revealing the truth, and clearing her of the blemish placed upon her good name.

Besides, would Frank ever accept the excuses made for her by a man of “Red Mullet’s” stamp? The actual truth was an ugly one. She had been absent from home, and on returning, had refused to give an account of where she had been. And now it was to be revealed that she had lived in “Red Mullet’s” chambers!

She burst into a flood of tears on recognising her own utter helplessness.

Circumstances were entirely against her. She could never hope to defend her own honour in the face of such dark facts.

Suddenly she dried her eyes with a great effort, and looked at herself in the big mirror at the back of the high, old-fashioned carved sideboard. She started to notice how pale she was, and how dark beneath the eyes.

Then slowly she went out of the room, and up the stairs, in obedience to her protector, “Red Mullet.”

Hardly knowing what she did, or what words escaped her, she re-entered the study where her father, her lover and the Doctor were in consultation, and standing before them, described the scene that had occurred in that room during the night-hours.

The three men, when they heard the astounding truth, started to their feet with one accord.

“You!—Gwen—my daughter!” gasped the old Professor in a voice of bitter reproach. “And you have allowed this—you allowed that man to gain our secret without alarming me! I am ashamed of your conduct—heartily ashamed!”

“I could not, father,” answered the girl, panting and pale-faced, “I—I was afraid—I feared him!”

She raised her eyes to Frank’s, and saw in them a look of blank disappointment. She now fully realised that if she had raised the alarm, the communication of the secret to Challas might perhaps have been prevented. She pointed to the broken bell-push, and explained how before her entry there, the resourceful scoundrel had disarranged it as a precaution.

Diamond paced the room in a frenzy of despair. The little man raised his clenched fists above his head and uttered curses upon his enemies, for he saw that through his fingers at the very moment of success, there had slipped a colossal fortune.

“Frank!” exclaimed the girl, in a low piteous voice, standing before him with bent head, “forgive me. I—I was helpless last night. I am helpless now!”

“Forgive!” echoed her father in furious anger. “How can he ever forgive you—how can I forgive you? You might have been in fear of him at that moment, but upon your own showing, you knew him, is not that so?”

“Yes, father,” she faltered. “I—I did know him.”

“Then you have had dealings with our enemies before!” Frank cried, all his dark suspicions now suddenly aroused by her fears and apprehensions.

“I told them nothing, though they tried to force me to.”

“You knew this man, Jim Jannaway, while I was in Copenhagen,” said Frank, his eyes fixed upon her very seriously. “Come, tell the truth, Gwen.”

She nodded in the affirmative, and unable to utter another word, burst again into tears.

And the three men standing there saw that her tears were tears of shame.

Two hours later, Frank Farquhar, dark-faced and determined, stood in one of the smaller rooms in Sir Felix Challas’s house in Berkeley Square, while before him, seated easily on the edge of the table, was Jim Jannaway.

“Well, Mr Farquhar,” he said, “what you’ve just stated is to a certain extent correct. I have no reason whatever to hide the truth, now that you have come to me and demanded it. The investigation of Holmboe’s story has simply been a matter of business in which the keenest wits win. We have won.”

“By trickery—and by a burglary, for which Professor Griffin intends to have you arrested.”

Jannaway laughed impudently in his face.

“My dear sir, pray don’t be foolish,” he answered, “why it was Miss Griffin herself who let me in, and who showed me her father’s decipher of the message in Ezekiel. And if you don’t believe me,” he added, “here’s the telegram which she sent me.”

Frank took the telegram he handed him, and read the following words: “Shall place candle at my window at two to-morrow morning. Come. Have something very important to communicate. Love, Gwen.”

Love! The word danced before Frank’s eyes.

“Why should she be acting in your interests, Mr Jannaway, and not in her father’s? That seems to me a very curious point,” he said, for want of something else to say.

“There was a reason—a very strong reason,” replied the fellow, with a mysterious grin, pretending, of course, to be unaware that Farquhar was the girl’s lover; “the little girl is a particular friend of mine.”

“What do you mean?” gasped Frank, his face paler.

“Well—what I say. Need I be more explicit? It is not usual for a man to imperil a girl’s reputation, is it?”

“Come,” said Frank; “tell me the truth. Is your acquaintance an intimate one?”

The fellow nodded and laughed. He plainly saw the result of his cruel aspersions upon the girl’s character.

“I don’t believe it,” declared Frank.

“Oh! perhaps you are her friend also!” exclaimed Jannaway with a smile. “If so, you’d better ask her if she did not remain with me during a recent absence from home. I wanted her to go back, but she seemed afraid, and preferred life in a bachelor’s chambers.”

“You lie!” cried Frank, crimson with anger.

“No, not so quick, Mr Farquhar,” exclaimed the scoundrel coolly. “Just inquire of her, that’s all. Ask her if she did not meet me in secret late one night, and whether she didn’t remain with me in my chambers off Oxford Street. She will certainly not have forgotten the incident,” he added with meaning sarcasm.

“I don’t believe you!” declared Frank, “but even if she had, you’re a cursed blackguard for giving her away!”

“You asked me for the truth, and you’ve got it!” was Jim Jannaway’s response. “Anything more you wish to know? If so, I am entirely at your service.”

It was one of Jannaway’s characteristics that the more angry he became, the more cool was his exterior.

“I want to know nothing from one who is a liar, a thief, and a slanderer of women,” Frank responded, in a hard, bitter voice.

“I understand that the object of your visit was to inquire the reason why I called so early this morning at Pembridge Gardens. I have simply replied that I called at the Professor’s in response to this invitation,” and he indicated the telegram which he still held in his hand, and which, if the truth were told, he had taken the precaution to send to himself, as additional evidence against the innocent girl whom he had all along intended should be his victim.

“And you repeat your allegation that Miss Gwen has been your guest at your chambers for several days—eh? Remember, if untrue, such a statement is actionable.”

“I repeat it. And I ask you to satisfy yourself as to its truth by asking her. But,” he added, “I may as well tell you that the little girl is annoyed with me just now for betraying her father’s secret to my friends. Yet, after all, as I’ve already said, it was only a matter of business, and with business women ought never to meddle. They always burn their fingers.”

“And your friends—that is Sir Felix Challas and his associates—intend, of course, to profit by this secret which you’ve stolen—eh?” asked Frank, his face darkening.

“That’s their affair—not mine.”

“I hear that you bribed the parlour-maid at Pembridge Gardens—the crafty scoundrel that you are!”

“That’s it!” Jim laughed, “and I squeezed the cook, and kissed the kitchenmaid! Anything else? No, I really haven’t any more time to waste, Mr Farquhar. All I need add is, that if you doubt my statement, please ask Miss Griffin herself.”

Chapter Thirty Seven.

Reveals a Woman’s Face.

A cold bleak afternoon in Kensington Gardens. The frozen gravelled path was lightly powdered with snow, and against the bare black branches showed the pale yellow light of the wintry afternoon. Bent to the biting wind, men and women, wrapped to the ears, passed up the Broad Walk, and among them was Gwen Griffin, a lonely, solitary, sweet-faced little figure, neat with her black bow in her hair, her blue doth skirt, fur bolero, and fur toque and muff to match.

She walked very slowly, her sad eyes cast upon the ground. She always went into the gardens when she wanted to think. Near Hyde Park Gate, she turned into one of the narrow and little-frequented paths, for she wanted to be alone.

That afternoon the great blow which she dreaded had fallen, and her young heart so light and happy, was crushed and broken.

Frank Farquhar had sent her, by messenger from Half Moon Street, a cruel, brief letter, in which he told her plainly of the allegation which Jim Jannaway had made, and explaining that, in consequence, he must ask her to consider their engagement at a complete end.

Its rigid formality showed that he believed every word of that vile calumny. Ah! if only Mullet would speak! If only he would consent to the truth being told.

But alas! though a fortnight had passed since his hurried departure from Pembridge Gardens after hearing of the betrayal of the secret, he had sent her no single word. He was a will-o’-the wisp, gone abroad, in all probability, in order to escape arrest.

For a fortnight, too, she had not seen Frank. After her admission of Jim Jannaway’s visit, he had left the house in evident disgust and anger, and had not returned. He had not even written to her, for she understood that he had gone abroad. That afternoon, however, he had sent her the note which for fifteen long anxious days she had been dreading.

She sank upon one of the seats quite alone, yet within sound of the dull roar of the traffic in Kensington Gore, and taking his letter from her muff, re-read it, her vision half obscured by hot bitter tears.

“The scoundrel told such a circumstantial tale,” she murmured to herself, “that Frank has believed it without question. Yet—yet if he had come to me, and asked me, what could I have said? It was true that I stayed in that hateful place, even though against my will. Ah! I wonder what foul lies he has told against me—what—”

And hiding her face in her muff, she burst again into a flood of tears.

Her sweet, bright countenance had, alas, greatly changed in those past few weeks. Instead of bearing the stamp of inward happiness, she was now wan and pale, with thin cheeks and dark, deep-sunken eyes—the face of a woman whose heart was troubled, and who existed in terror of the future.

Both the Professor and Diamond—who was still a frequent visitor and had long conferences with her father—had noticed the change. But neither had made any remark. They attributed it to her heartfelt regret at not having raised the alarm on finding Jannaway prying into their secret.

The girl’s mind, racked by the tortures of conscience and frenzied by the cruel calumnies uttered against her, was now strained to its greatest tension. She was utterly friendless, for even her father now avoided her, and at meals treated her with a cool and studied aversion. Instead of being petted and indulged as she had been all her life, she was now shunned. He asked of her no advice, nor did he invite her to his study each evening to chat, as had been his habit ever since she had left school.

One friend she possessed in the world—“Red Mullet,” the adventurer who posed as a mining engineer! Where was he? Ay, who could tell?

“That man threatened his arrest if I did not remain silent,” she said, speaking aloud to herself, her eyes fixed upon the bare, cheerless prospect before her. “I have told the truth, and already he has carried out one of his threats. Perhaps he will carry out the other. Probably he will, and then—and then I shall lose my only friend! He may allege, too, that because ‘Red Mullet’ is my friend, he is my lover! Ah! I wonder what shameful scandal he has told Frank! I wonder! Oh! Why has Frank not come to me for an explanation for proof of those abominable lies uttered by a man whom he knows as a blackguard and a thief. It is cruel!” she sobbed, “cruel—too cruel! Ah! Frank, my own Frank, I love you with all my heart—with all my soul! You are mine, mine!” she cried, raising her clenched hands to heaven in her frenzy of despair, “and yet I have lost you—lost my father’s great secret—lost everything—everything!”

Her white lips moved, but no sound came from them. Her eyes were closed, her hands clenched tightly as there, with none to witness her agony of soul, she implored the protection of her Maker and the clemency of Providence in that, the greatest trial of all her life.

She prayed in deep earnestness for assistance and strength to withstand the evil machinations of her enemies.

With Frank’s departure, the sun of her existence had set. The future was only grey and darkening, like the dismal, dispiriting scene that spread before her.

Love and life were, alas, lost to her for ever.

Away over those leafless trees, eastward beyond Hyde Park and Grosvenor Square, a curious scene was, at that moment, being enacted in the house of her enemies.

Challas, stout and pompous, was standing with his back to the library fireplace, while in an armchair near, sat the white-bearded old German Professor.

“You see from this ‘wire’ from Jim, that all goes along beautifully Erich,” the Baronet was saying. “He has engaged a Turk to purchase the land on both sides of the Mount, the price asked being a little bit stiff—eight thousand pounds for the lot. I ‘wired’ him this morning to close at the lowest price possible, and at the same time I’ve placed him a credit of ten thousand at the Ottoman Bank in Jerusalem.”

“Then by this time the deal is closed,” remarked the old German, rubbing his thin hands in satisfaction. “Ah! I wonder how our friend Griffin now feels?”

“Yes,” laughed Sir Felix, “thanks to Jim we obtained the whole secret without the trouble of deciphering it. That was a smart move of his to capture the little girl as he did.”

“Yes,” laughed the old man, “it seems that we’re on the straight road to success.”

“The road!” echoed the great financier. “Why, by this time, I expect the land is ours, and if so, I shall start myself on Saturday. I mean to keep my intentions ‘dark,’ of course. The papers will say that I’ve gone to Vienna, for if it were known that I’d gone to Jerusalem there are men in the City who would be keeping a wary eye on me. They know that when Felix Challas goes abroad, it’s generally to see some good thing or other. That’s the worst of this cursed popularity. The public eye is upon one the whole time.”

As he spoke, the old butler tapped at the door, and handed him another telegram, which he broke open eagerly.

“Ah!” he exclaimed after consulting a little note book which he took from a drawer—the code which Jim always used. “Another from Jim! He’s closing at seven thousand eight hundred, the deeds to be signed to-morrow. The story he has told is that the land is to be used for building purposes.”

“I suppose the surveyor you sent out with him has fixed the exact spot?”

“Of course. They did that four days ago. It was a difficult task to accomplish without attracting attention, but Jim succeeded. He always does!” added the Baronet with a grin.

“I understood that the Mount was nearly covered by the Jews’ cemetery,” remarked the German.

“So it is. But the plots we want are fortunately rocky places, where burial is impossible. I think it a big stroke of luck—don’t you?” he added with a self-satisfied laugh.

“Certainly,” was the German’s response in his deep, guttural voice, “but what of Mullet? Have you heard anything of him lately?”

“Nothing. He’s abroad somewhere. I believe Jim and he have quarrelled. I only hope they won’t get to serious disagreement—if they do it will be very unpleasant for us all. ‘Red Mullet’ hasn’t acted straight in this affair at all. He fell in love with Griffin’s girl, I think—and became heroic—like the chicken-hearted fool he is.”

“You haven’t any fear of him turning upon you, I suppose?”

“Fear of him!” laughed Sir Felix heartily.

“Why, my dear Erich, I could put him away for ten years, to-morrow, if I wished, and fortunately he knows it. No. He’ll keep a very still tongue, never fear. He still draws his money from Paris, which shows that he doesn’t intend mischief.”

“Ah! that’s all right,” declared the Hebrew scholar, greatly satisfied. “I—well, I’ve always had suspicions that he meant to play into Griffin’s hands.”

“So he did, undoubtedly, but Jim and I were rather too clever for him.”

At that moment the elderly butler re-entered with a card upon the salver.

Sir Felix took it and his face changed in an instant. His mouth was open, and for a second he seemed speechless.

“Not at home—not at home,” he snapped to the man. “Never at home to that person—you understand?”

“Yes, Sir Felix,” replied the grave-faced servant, who bowed and withdrew.

Erich Haupt noticed that the visitor, whoever it was, seemed a most unwelcome one.

From the Baronet’s subsequent movements the old German realised that he wished to get rid of him.

Therefore, he rose and departed, promising to call next day, and hear the latest report of Jim Jannaway’s progress in Jerusalem.

Then, the instant Erich had left the house, Sir Felix rang for his valet, a young Italian, giving him a note to take in a taxi-cab to his office in the City and await a reply.

The man was gone an hour, during which time his master ascended to the great drawing-room, and advancing cautiously to the window, peered out into the grey twilight of the square. He stood behind the curtains so that any one watching the house from the outside could not observe him. From his nervous anxiety and restless movements it was apparent that he feared his unwelcome visitor might still be watching outside.

As he peered through the crack between the heavy curtains of blue silk brocade and the window sash, his eyes caught sight of a figure, and he sprang back breathless, his face white and drawn, as though he had seen a ghost.

It was a ghost—a ghost of the past that had arises against him in that hour of his greatest triumph.

The young Italian returned, and handed him a bulky letter which he placed in his pocket without opening. Then, having sent him forth with a note to the Ritz Hotel, a mere excuse, he ran up to his dressing-room, quickly exchanged his frock-coat and fancy vest for a suit of rough tweed, and putting on a bowler hat, returned to the library. Upon his face was a haunted look of terror. The unexpected had happened.

From his safe he took a small sealed packet of folded papers which he opened and cast quickly into the fire, waiting in eager impatience until all had been consumed. Then, unobserved, he slipped out by the back in the evening gloom, hurrying down the mews, and through into Hill Street, where he hailed a hansom and drove quickly away.

For the ghost of the past was still watching, silent and hideous, against the railings of Berkeley Square.

Chapter Thirty Eight.

Contains a Surprise.

That short February day was indeed an eventful one, both for the rival investigators, and for the whole Hebrew race.

Almost at that same hour when Sir Felix Challas left his London mansion so hurriedly, and in such fear, “Red Mullet” was being conducted up a long, wood-built, unpainted corridor where the uncarpeted floor was full of holes and the broken windows were patched, to a small shabby little reception-room—the waiting-room of the Sublime Porte, or Government Offices at Constantinople.

A Turkish servant in a dingy red fez, handed him the usual formal cup of black coffee and cigarette, and he was left alone to await his audience with the Grand Vizier of his Imperial Majesty, the Sultan.

It was not the first time in the course of his adventurous career that he had had audience at the Sublime Porte. He knew the shabbiness and the decay of that great shed-like building, its lack of order, its seedy-looking officials, and its altogether incongruous appearance as the centre of the administration of a great empire.

Smoking the cigarette, he stood gazing thoughtfully out upon the rubbish heap in the courtyard below. Beyond, lay Pera, and the blue Bosphorus. The room, with its bare walls, faded Oriental carpet, rickety writing-table and few shabby chairs, was the apartment where the Ambassadors of the Powers awaited audience of the Grand Vizier, or of his Excellency, Tewfik Pasha, his Majesty’s Minister for Foreign Affairs. A contrast indeed to the fairylike glories of the palace of Yildiz.

Five minutes later, the tall, red-moustached Englishman was conducted to a private room, shabby as was all at the Sublime Porte, where, at a table, sat a benevolent white-bearded old gentleman in frock-coat and fez, the Grand Vizier of the Sultan.

The high official greeted him in French, and having motioned him to a chair on the opposite side of the table, said:

“I am greatly obliged to you, M’sieur Mullet. I have read with intense interest the document you gave me yesterday, and last evening I placed the matter before his Majesty, my sovereign, at the Palace. As you are aware, his Majesty is always tolerant of other religions that are not our Faith, and has ever been most lenient towards the Hebrew race. This discovery, and your statement that certain persons hostile to the Jewish religion are in search of the supposed sacred relics, have both interested him, and he has commanded me to tell you that inquiries have been made by telegraph in Jerusalem. It appears that a certain Englishman named James Jannaway is staying at the Park Hotel, and is in treaty with the owners of two plots of land at the base of the Mount of Offence, one belonging to Poulios, a Greek, and the other to a certain Hadj Ben Hassan, an Arab. The Governor of Jerusalem reports that the price is fixed, and only the contracts remain to be drawn.”

“The man Jannaway, your Excellency, is the agent of Sir Felix Challas,” declared Mullet.

“As you yourself have been when you have visited Constantinople to obtain concessions from us on previous occasions, M’sieur!” remarked the wily Turkish official. “Why have you betrayed your employer?”

“For reasons which I have already explained in the document I handed to you. Your Excellency has always been extremely good to me personally, and I deemed it but my duty to inform you of the secret excavations about to take place in Jerusalem.”

“You have no ulterior motive—eh?” asked the old man, fixing his eyes keenly upon him.

“None whatever, your Excellency. On the contrary, I shall be the loser.”

The Grand Vizier stroked his beard for a few moments in thoughtful silence. Then he said:

“His Majesty never fails to repay generously any service rendered him. I may as well tell you he considers the rendering of this information a very valuable service. It might easily have happened that the most sacred relics of the Hebrews could have been taken from our country in secret by enemies of the Jews, a circumstance which would have caused his Majesty the utmost annoyance and anger.”

“Your Excellency has already satisfied yourself that I have told the truth, I hope?”

“Certainly; during the night I have had several long telegrams from the Governor of Jerusalem, all of which bear out your allegation of a secret attempt about to be made to excavate in the Mount of Offence.”

“And what action will the Ottoman Government take?” asked “Red Mullet,” eagerly.

“His Majesty has already taken action,” was the Grand Vizier’s reply. “This morning he signed an irade which I placed before him, prohibiting the sale of any of the land of the Mount of Offence to any foreigner, and forbidding any excavations or any investigation whatsoever being made there.”

“Red Mullet” was silent. The situation was an unexpected one. Such an irade would prevent Griffin and Diamond—the rightful holders of the secret—from taking any action, or making any investigation! By successfully opposing Challas, he had unfortunately also opposed Professor Griffin!

“Is not that—well—well, just a little in opposition to his Majesty’s well-known policy of progress? The Imperial irade forbids any investigation whatever, I take it?”

“It forbids every investigation, of whatever nature,” slowly replied the white-bearded mouthpiece of the Sultan. “Besides, there is a Jewish cemetery in close proximity; we will not have that desecrated, by either archaeologists or treasure-hunters.”

“Then the secret cipher elucidated by Professor Griffin is to remain an unsolved problem?” Mullet said in a tone of great disappointment.