“Then you mean that you do know who she was?”

“I’m pretty sure I do—­that is what I came back to prove.  Where’s Rogers?”

“I’ll ring for him,” I said, and did so, and presently he appeared.

“Did you ring, sir?” he asked.

He was still miserably nervous, but much more self-controlled than he had been earlier in the evening.

“Yes,” I said.  “Mr. Godfrey wishes to speak to you.”

It seemed to me that Rogers turned visibly paler; there was certainly fear in the glance he turned upon my companion.  But Godfrey smiled reassuringly.

“We’d better give him his instructions about the reporters, first thing, hadn’t we, Lester?” he inquired.

“Which reporters?” I queried.

“All the others, of course.  They will be storming this house, Rogers, before long.  You will meet them at the door, you will refuse to admit one of them; you will tell them that there is nothing to be learned here, and that they must go to the police.  Tell them that Commissioner Grady himself is in charge of the case and will no doubt be glad to talk to them.  Is that right, Lester?”

“Yes, Ulysses,” I agreed, smiling.

“And now,” continued Godfrey, watching Rogers keenly, “I have a photograph here that I want you to look at.  Did you ever see that person before?” and he handed a print to Rogers.

The latter hesitated an instant, and then took the print with a trembling hand.  Stark fear was in his eyes again; then slowly he raised the print to the light, glanced at it....

“Catch him, Lester!” Godfrey cried, and sprang forward.

For Rogers, clutching wildly at his collar, spun half around and fell with a crash.  Godfrey’s arm broke the fall somewhat, but as for me, I was too dazed to move.

“Get some water, quick!” Godfrey commanded sharply, as Parks came running up.  “Rogers has been taken ill.”

And then, as Parks sped down the hall again, I saw Godfrey loosen the collar of the unconscious man and begin to chafe his temples fiercely.

“I hope it isn’t apoplexy,” he muttered.  “I oughtn’t to have shocked him like that.”

At the words, I remembered; and, stooping, picked up the photograph which had fluttered from Rogers’s nerveless fingers.  And then I, too, uttered a smothered exclamation as I gazed at the dark eyes, the full lips, the oval face—­the face which d’Aurelle had carried in his watch!

CHAPTER VIII

PRECAUTIONS

But it wasn’t apoplexy.  It was Parks who reassured us, when he came hurrying back a minute later with a glass of water in one hand and a small phial in the other.

“He has these spells,” he said.  “It’s a kind of vertigo.  Give him a whiff of this.”

He uncorked the phial and handed it to Godfrey, and I caught the penetrating fumes of ammonia.  A moment later, Rogers gasped convulsively.