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The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham.

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"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?" said she.

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"I am Mr. Holmes," answered my companion, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled gaze.

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"Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for the Continent."

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"What!" Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. "Do you mean that she has left England?"

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"Never to return."

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"And the papers?" asked the King hoarsely. "All is lost."

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"We shall see." He pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the King and myself.


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