“By your hand.  In fact, I think they know already.”

“Already?”

“Yes.  There was somebody about when we were there, and he was evidently hiding.”

“You heard him?”

“Yes.  I didn’t want to alarm you.  I have reason now to be alarmed for myself.  They know I am in it.  We’ve got to think quickly and act quickly.  The minute that orders come they will try to get us.  As long as we stay in public places we are safe.  But we must not go out alone any more.”

The two went on to the hotel.  Saunders glanced back as they were entering the town.  His eyes covered the hedge.

“I thought so,” he said.  “That chap has been dodging in and out of the trees and keeping watch on us.  From this point he can see right along the street to the hotel door.  It’s no use trying to conceal anything now.  Our only safety lies in keeping in public places; but they won’t strike till they get their orders.”

As the two entered the hotel, a messenger boy came up carrying two telegrams.  The clerk nodded to the boy, who went over to Mark and Saunders.

“Which is Mr. Saunders?” he asked.  The detective reached out his hand and the boy gave him one of the messages.  “The other one,” he said, “is for Mr. Griffin.

“Sign here, please.”  The boy extended his book.  Both men signed and the boy went out.  Sitting down in a corner of the writing room, Mark and Saunders looked at one another, then at the yellow envelopes.

“Why don’t you open your telegram, Saunders?” asked Mark.

“Because I know pretty well what’s in it.  I guessed it would be coming.  I am ordered off this case, for the men who employed our agency have no use for me after last night.  They have found everything out for themselves, and have settled it in their own way.  Why don’t you open yours?”

“For opposite reasons to yours, old chap:  because I don’t know what’s in it, and, whatever it is, I don’t think I shall like it.  I have not had many messages of this kind.  None but my solicitors would send one, and that means trouble.  But here goes!”

Mark tore off the end of the envelope, opened the message and read.  Saunders did the same with his.  One glance was enough for each.

“I told you so,” said Saunders.  “Here’s my message:  ’Central disconnected.’”

Mark looked up with surprise.

“‘Central disconnected’?  What’s that, Saunders?  More United States?”

“It’s our code,” replied the detective, “for ’Come back to the central office at once.  Our connection with the case is at an end.’”

There was a trace of pain in Mark’s face, as he handed his own telegram over for Saunders to read.  It was from New York: 

“Harvey, Sullivan and Riggs, your solicitors, wire us to find you and say that your brother is dead and that you are to return at once.”

“I’m sorry, Griffin, very sorry.”  There was real sympathy in Saunders’ voice.  “Perhaps it is better that you should go.  It may be a way out.  Your Ambassador can help you.  I’ve got to stay and face it.  Yes, it would be better for you to go.”