"Mr. Lester," he began, "I understand that you are the administrator of the estate of the late Philip Vantine?"

"Our firm is," I corrected.

"But you, personally, have been attending to his business?"

"Yes."

"He was a collector of old furniture, I believe?"

"Yes."

"And on his last trip to Europe, from which he returned only a few days ago, he purchased of Armand & Son, of Paris, a Boule cabinet?"

I could not repress a start of astonishment.

"Are you acting for Armand & Son?" I queried.

"Not at all. I am acting for a lady whom, for the present, we will call Madame X."

The thought flashed through my mind that Madame X. and the mysterious Frenchwoman might be one and the same person. Then I put aside the idea as absurd. Sereno Hornblower would never accept such a client.

"Mr. Vantine did buy such a cabinet," I said.

"And it is in your possession?"

"There is at his residence a Boule cabinet which was shipped him from Paris, but, only a few hours before his death, Mr. Vantine a.s.sured me that it was not the one he had purchased."

"You mean that a mistake had been made in the shipment?"

"That is what we supposed, and a cablegram from Armand & Son has since confirmed it."

Mr. Hornblower pondered this for a moment.

"Where is the cabinet which Mr. Vantine did buy?" he asked at last.

"I have no idea. Perhaps it is still in Paris. But I am expecting a representative of the Armands to call very soon to straighten things out."

Again my companion fell silent, and sat rubbing his chin absently.

"It is very strange," he said, finally. "If the cabinet was still at Paris, one would think it would have been discovered before my client made inquiry about it."

"There are a good many things which are strange about this whole matter," I supplemented.

"Would you have any objection to my client seeing this cabinet, Mr.

Lester?"

It was my turn to hesitate.

"Mr. Hornblower," I said, finally, "I will be frank with you. There is a certain mystery surrounding this cabinet which we have not been able to solve. I suppose you have read of the mysterious deaths of Mr. Vantine and of an unknown Frenchman, both in the same room at the Vantine house, and both apparently from the same cause?"

He nodded.

"Do you mean that this cabinet is connected with them in any way?" he asked quickly.

"We believe so; though as yet we have been able to prove absolutely nothing. But we are guarding the cabinet very closely. I should not object to your client seeing it, but I could not permit her to touch it--not, at least, without knowing why she wished to do so. You will remember that you have told me nothing of why she is interested in it."

"I am quite ready to tell you the story, Mr. Lester," he said. "It is only fair that I should do so. After you have heard it, if you agree, we will take Madame X. to see the cabinet."

"Very well," I a.s.sented.

He settled back in his chair, and his face became more grave.

"My client," he began, "is a member of a prominent American family--a most prominent family. Three years ago, she married a French n.o.bleman. You can, perhaps, guess her name, but I should prefer that neither of us utter it."

I nodded my agreement.

"This n.o.bleman has been both prodigal and unfaithful. He has scattered my client's fortune with both hands. He has flaunted his mistresses in her face. He has even tried to compel her to receive one of them. I am free to confess that I consider her a fool not to have left him long ago. At last her trustees interfered, for her father had been wise enough to place a portion of her fortune in trust. They paid her husband's debts, placed him on an allowance, and notified his creditors that his debts would not be paid again."

I had by this time, of course, guessed the name of his client, since these details had long been a matter of public notoriety, and, I need hardly say, listened to the story with a heightened interest.

"The allowance is a princely one," Mr. Hornblower continued, "but it does not suffice Monsieur X. No allowance would suffice him--the more money he had, the more ways he would find of spending it. So he has become a thief. He has taken to selling the objects of art with which his residences are filled, and which are really the property of my client, since they were purchased with her money. About two weeks ago, my client returned to Paris from a stay at her chateau in Normandy to find that he had almost denuded the town house.

Tapestries, pictures, sculptures--everything had been sold. Among other things which he had taken was a Boule cabinet, which had been used by my client as her private writing-desk. The cabinet was a most valuable one; but it is not its monetary value which makes my client so anxious to recover it."

He paused an instant and cleared his throat, and I realised that he was coming to the really delicate part of the story.

"Monsieur X. had had the decency," he went on, more slowly, "to, as he thought, retain his wife's private papers. He had caused the contents of the various drawers to be dumped out upon a chair. But there was one drawer of which he knew nothing--a secret drawer, known only to my client. That drawer contained a packet of letters which my client is most anxious to regain. Of their nature, I will say nothing--indeed, I know very little about them, for, after all, that is none of my business. But she has given me to understand that their recovery is essential to her peace of mind."

I nodded again; there was really no need that he should say more.

Only, I reflected, a faithless husband has no reason to complain if his wife repays him in the same coin!

"My client went to work at once to regain the cabinet," continued Mr.

Hornblower, plainly relieved that the thinnest ice had been crossed.

"She found that it had been sold to Armand & Son. Hastening to their offices, she learned that it had been resold by them to Mr. Vantine and sent forward to him here. So she came over on the first boat, ostensibly to visit her family, but really to ask Mr. Vantine's permission to open the drawer and take out the letters. His death interfered with this, and, in despair, she came to me. I need hardly add, that no member of her family knows anything about this matter, and it is especially important that her husband should never even suspect it. On her behalf, I apply to you, as Mr. Vantine's executor, to restore these letters to their owner."

I sat for a moment turning this extraordinary story over in my mind, and trying to make it fit in with the occurrences of the past two days. But it would not fit--at least, it would not fit with my theory as to the cause of those occurrences. For, surely, Madame X. would scarcely guard the secret of that drawer with poison!

"Does any one besides your client know of the existence of these letters?" I asked, at last.

"I think not," answered Mr. Hornblower, smiling drily. "They are not of a nature which my client would care to communicate to any one. In fact, Mr. Lester, as you have doubtless suspected, they are compromising letters. We must get them back at any cost."

"As a matter of fact," I pointed out, "there are always at least two people who know of the existence of every letter--the person who writes it and the person who receives it."

"I had thought of that, but the person who wrote these letters is dead."

"Dead?" I repeated.

"He was killed in a duel some months ago," explained Mr. Hornblower, gravely.