"While the search is proceeding won't you come to my boudoir, Sir George?" she said. "I have been sitting there reading since I returned from the theatre, and I am quite sure that the wretch, whoever he may be, is not in that part of the building."

I followed her to the room in question, which was on the other side of the house, and we were about to enter it, when the sound of a footstep upon the stairs attracted my attention, and I looked up, to see her cousin, Count Reiffenburg, descending towards us.

"What is the matter?" he asked. "Why, Sir George Manderville, I did not expect to find _you_ here!"

I briefly explained the situation to him, whereupon he remarked, with that curious smile upon his face:--"It seems that you are destined always to prove our benefactor. But while we are talking here the man may make his escape. I think I will go round with the police, and see if I can be of any a.s.sistance to them."

He left us, and for something like ten minutes the Countess and I waited for the sound that was to proclaim the capture of the intruder. But no such good fortune rewarded us. If the man were in the house--and of this I had no doubt--he had managed to conceal himself so effectually that the police could not find him. In the meantime the housekeeper had put in an appearance, and was despatched to interrogate the female domestics, and discover, if possible, who it was that had opened the door. She returned with the information that she had found all the maid-servants in bed and asleep, while the steward was equally certain that none of the men under his charge had anything to do with the occurrence. At last, after searching the house, the police were compelled to confess that they were at a loss to understand what had become of him.

"But there can be no doubt about his being here," I declared; "I distinctly saw him enter. He was an old man, very ragged, with long grey hair, and stooped as he walked. The detective officer who was with me at the time can also corroborate what I say, if necessary."

"That is not necessary, for of course we accept your word," said Reiffenburg with elaborate politeness. "The question is: if, as you say, he entered, where is he now? He cannot have vanished into s.p.a.ce, and we have searched every corner without success."

"Then he must have an accomplice in the house who is hiding him," I returned. "If both exits have been guarded, he cannot have got out."

By this time I was beginning to wish that I had had nothing to do with the matter. The Countess, however, was profuse in her thanks to me, for what she described as "a most considerate and friendly act."

Seeing that I could be of no further use to her, I apologized for my intrusion and bade them good-night.

"Should we by any chance manage to secure the fellow, I will let you know," said Reiffenburg, as we stood together at the front door. "I fear, however, _we shall not be so fortunate_."

There was a sneer in his voice, for which I could have kicked him.

However, I kept my temper, and murmuring something to the effect that I was glad to have been of service, I took my departure, and the door closed behind me.

"That was one of the most extraordinary affairs I have ever known," I said to the detective, as we turned our faces homewards. "I am quite at a loss to account for it."

The detective stopped suddenly and looked at me.

"The lady and gentleman are particular friends of yours, sir, I understand, and I don't know in that case whether I ought to tell you what is in my mind. But I fancy I could throw a rather unexpected light upon the affair."

"Speak out, then, by all means," I answered. "What was it you noticed?"

"This, sir," he said, and as he spoke he took from his pocket a small piece of black matter about half the size of a pea. He handed it to me and asked if I had seen it before. I informed him that I was quite sure I had not.

"It only bears out, sir, what I was saying as we came down Park Lane, just before we reached Wiltshire House. If it weren't for little things, that they overlook, we shouldn't be able to lay our hands on half the criminals we want. Now mind you, sir, I don't mean to infer by that that your friend Count Reiffenburg is a criminal. Not at all; that would be a very wrong thing to say. He's probably been playing a practical joke, as gentlemen will. The fact, however, remains that he gave himself away with that little lump of black stuff, just as surely as Bill Coakes of the Minories did when he gave his sweetheart the silk handkerchief that he picked up in old Mrs Burgiss's bedroom. He didn't think it was of any importance, but she wore it, quarrelled with a girl over it, the police came to hear of it, and Bill was caught. So it was just that slip that brought him to the gallows."

"I do not understand you," I replied, still holding the tiny bit of black stuff in my hand. "What is the connection between this substance and Count Reiffenburg?"

"It's the key to the whole puzzle, sir," he said, and took it from me.

Turning his face away, he put his hand to his mouth, and then wheeling round again, parted his lips and showed me his teeth. The eye-tooth on the right-hand side was missing. He put up his hand once more, and lo!

it was restored to its place.

"That's what I mean, sir," he said. "Now I noticed, when the gentleman came downstairs, that one of his eye-teeth were missing. He wanted to make himself look old, I suppose, and when he had taken off the other pieces, had forgotten to remove that one. Then he must have remembered it, for his hand went up to his mouth, and next minute it was on the floor, where I managed to get hold of it."

"Do you mean to infer that the old man we saw enter the house was the Count Reiffenburg?" I asked, aghast.

"That is my belief, sir," said the man; "and I feel certain that if I were allowed to search his bedroom, I should find my suspicions corroborated."

"But what possible reason could he have for masquerading as a pauper outcast, and who let him in?"

"As to his reason, sir, I can hazard no sort of guess," he continued.

"But it was the lady herself who let him in."

"How on earth do you know that?"

"By a process of simple reasoning, sir. Did you happen to notice that, when we returned to the hall after our search of the first section of the house, the gentleman carried a book in his hand?"

"Now that you mention the fact I _do_ remember it," I answered. "But what has the book to do with it?"

"A great deal," he answered. "You may not be aware of the fact, but there's a small sitting-room near that side door--a tiny place where the housekeeper does her accounts. The book, when we first searched the room, was lying upon the table."

"May not the housekeeper have been reading it before she went to bed?"

"The housekeeper is an Englishwoman, sir, and not very well educated. I should call it remarkable if she knew Italian, and little short of marvellous if she read Dante in the original. Now, sir, when Count Reiffenburg entered the lady's boudoir, he brought that book with him and placed it on one of the tables. He wouldn't have done that if it had been the property of the housekeeper, would he? No, sir! Count Reiffenburg was out, and the young lady, who is his cousin, I think I understood you to say, sir, sat up for him in order to be near the door.

That's the way I read the riddle."

"And I must confess that you have a certain amount of probability on your side," I answered. "At the same time, if I were you, I should say nothing about the discovery. It can serve no good purpose to bruit it abroad. Do you think the two policemen noticed anything of the kind?"

The detective gave a scornful little laugh. "I don't think you need have much fear on that score, sir," he answered. "I doubt very much whether the man who went round with me noticed the book at all. His theory was that the fellow we saw enter was one of the servants who had been out late, and not a burglar at all."

By this time we had reached my own residence, and I bade the man good-night upon the steps. Having let myself in, I went to my study to deposit some papers I had brought with me from the House, then to my bedroom and to bed. The incident at Wiltshire House annoyed me, if only for the reason that I could not understand it. What could the young Count Reiffenburg have been doing--if it were he, as the detective declared--wandering about London in that attire? That in itself was bad enough, but it was made much worse by the knowledge that his beautiful cousin had been conniving at his escapade. One thing was quite certain; if I had entertained a dislike for Reiffenburg before, it was doubled now. At last, tired by my long day and the events that had concluded it, I fell asleep, and did not wake until I opened my eyes to find Williams standing beside my bed, overcome with excitement and horror.

"What is the matter, man?" I cried. "What makes you look like that?"

"There's terrible news, sir," he faltered. "There's been a lot lately, but this is the worst of all."

"What is the matter, man?" I cried for the second time. "Don't stand there trembling. Tell me what has happened."

"I scarcely know how to tell you, sir," he answered, his voice almost failing him.

"Then give me the paper and let me look for myself," I said, and took it from him. On the page before me, in large type, was an announcement that made me feel sick and giddy:--

"a.s.sa.s.sINATION OF THE PRIME MINISTER!"

My horror was greater even than Williams's had been. I read the heavy black lines over and over again, as if unable to grasp their meaning.

The Prime Minister dead! My old friend and Chief murdered! Could it be possible?

When I had recovered my composure a little, I took up the paper, and tried to read the account there set forth. There had only been time for the insertion of a short paragraph, but its importance was such that it would ring throughout the world. It ran as follows:--

"It is with a sorrow that cannot be expressed in words, that we record the fact that the Right Honourable, the Earl of Litford, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and Prime Minister of England, was a.s.sa.s.sinated soon after midnight. The Prime Minister was last seen alive by his private secretary, in the study at his residence at Grosvenor Square. He had left the House of Lords early, but, with the exception of a slight headache, appeared to be in the best of health and spirits. The presumption is that he was stabbed in the back, but how the wound was inflicted, and by whom, are matters which, at present, cannot be explained."

I could find no words to express my horror and surprise. It was only a few hours since he had congratulated me upon my speech in answer to the accusations of certain members of the Little Englander Party; now England was bereft, by as foul an act as had ever been committed in the annals of crime, of one of her greatest statesmen and of one of her n.o.blest sons.

Craving further particulars, I dressed with all speed, and then drove to his residence in Grosvenor Square. Leaving my cab, I walked towards the well-known house, before which a large number of people had collected.