"Better--ah! better than my own life!" he cried in deep earnestness, his troubled face being an index of his mind.

"Then--then upon her honour--the honour of the woman you love--swear to me that you have spoken the truth!"

He looked into his friend's eyes for a moment. Then he answered:

"I swear, Max! I swear by my love for Maud that I have spoken the truth!"

And Barclay stood silent--so puzzled as to be unable to utter a word.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

WHICH PUTS A SERIOUS QUESTION.

At last Max spoke, slowly and with great deliberation.

"And you declare yourself as ignorant as I am myself of their whereabouts?"

"I do," was Rolfe's response. Then after a second's hesitation he added in a changed voice: "I really think, Max, that you are scarcely treating me fairly in this matter. Sorely it is in my interests to discover the whereabouts of Maud! I have done my best."

"Well?"

"And I've failed to discover any clue whatever--except one--that--"

And he broke off, without finishing his sentence.

"What have you discovered? Tell me. Be frank with me."

"I've not yet established whether it is a real clue, or whether a mere false surmise. When I have, I will tell you."

"But cannot we join forces in endeavouring to solve the problem?" Max suggested, his suspicion of his friend now removed.

"That is exactly what I would wish. But how shall we begin? Where shall we commence?" asked Rolfe.

"The truth that it was not you whom I saw leaving the house in Cromwell Road adds fresh mystery to the already astounding circ.u.mstance," Max declared. "The man who so closely resembled you was purposely made up to be mistaken for you. There was some strong motive for this. What do you suggest it could be?"

"To implicate me! But in what?"

The thought of that blood-stained bodice ever haunted Max. It was on the tip of his tongue to reveal his discovery to his friend, yet on second thoughts he resolved to at present retain his secret. He had withheld it from the police, therefore he was perfectly justified in withholding it from Charlie.

The flat denial of the latter regarding his visit to Cromwell Road caused him deep reflection. He watched his friend's att.i.tude, and was compelled to admit within himself that now, at any rate, he was speaking the truth.

"The only reason for the visit of the man whom I must have mistaken for yourself, Charlie," he said, "must have been to open that safe."

"Probably so."

Then Max explained, in detail, the position of the safe, and how he had discovered it being open, and its contents abstracted.

"On your first visit, then, the safe was hidden?"

"Yes. But when I went in the morning it stood revealed, the door blown open by some explosive."

"By an enemy of the Doctor's," remarked Charlie.

Max did not reply. The Doctor's words regarding his friend on the last occasion they had sat together recurred to him at that moment with a queer significance. The Doctor certainly did not like Rolfe. For what reason? he wondered. Why had he taken such a sudden dislike to him?

Hitherto, they had been quite friendly, ever since the well-remembered meeting at the Villa des Fleurs, in Aix-les-Bains, and the Doctor had never, to his knowledge, objected to Maud's a.s.sociation with the smart young fellow whose keen business instincts had commended him to such a man as old Sam Statham. The Doctor held no doubt, either secret knowledge of something detrimental to Rolfe, or else entertained one of those sudden and unaccountable prejudices which some men form, and which they are unable to put behind them.

"The one main point we have first to decide, Charlie," he said at last, standing at the window and gazing thoughtfully down into the narrow London street, "is whether or not then has been foul play."

Rolfe made no reply, a circ.u.mstance which caused him to turn and look straight into his friend's face. He saw a change there.

His countenance was blanched; but whether by fear of the loss of the woman he loved, or by a guilty knowledge, Max knew not.

"Marion can tell us," he answered at last. "But she refuses."

"You, her brother, can surely obtain the truth from her?"

"Not when you, her lover, fail," Charlie responded, his brows knit deeply.

"But a moment ago you said you had a clue?"

"I think I have one. It is only a surmise."

"And in what direction does it trend?"

"Towards foul play," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

"Political?"

"It may be."

"And were both victims of the plot?"

"I cannot tell. At present I'm making all the secret inquiries possible--far afield in a Continental city. It takes time, care, and patience. As soon as I obtain anything tangible, I will tell you. But first of all, Max," he added, "I wish to have your a.s.surance that you no longer suspect me. I am not your enemy--why should you be mine?"

"I am not, my dear fellow," declared Barclay. "How can I be the enemy of Marion's brother? I was only suspicious. You would have been the same in similar circ.u.mstances, I'm sure."

"Probably," laughed Charlie. "Yet what you've told me about the endeavour to implicate myself in the affair is certainly extraordinary.

I don't see any motive."

"Except that you were known by the conspirators, whoever they are, to be Maud's lover."

"If so, then they intend, most probably, to bring some false charge against me. And--and--"

"And what?" asked Max in some surprise.

"Why, don't you see?" he said hoa.r.s.ely, staring straight into his friend's face with a horrified expression as a terrible truth arose within him. "Don't you see that you yourself, Max, would become the princ.i.p.al witness against me!"