of something rather ominous and alarming. But, whatever the cause, there
was no doubt that an impression of serious peril rose somehow out of
that white paper with the few lines of firm writing, and the spirit of a
deep uneasiness ran between the words and reached the mind without any
visible form of expression.

"And when you saw him--?" I asked, returning the letter as the train
rushed clattering noisily through Clapham Junction.

"I have not seen him," was the reply. "The man's mind was charged to the
brim when he wrote that; full of vivid mental pictures. Notice the
restraint of it. For the main character of his case psychometry could be
depended upon, and the scrap of paper his hand has touched is sufficient
to give to another mind--a sensitive and sympathetic mind--clear mental
pictures of what is going on. I think I have a very sound general idea
of his problem."

"So there may be excitement, after all?"

John Silence waited a moment before he replied.

"Something very serious is amiss there," he said gravely, at length.
"Some one--not himself, I gather,--has been meddling with a rather
dangerous kind of gunpowder. So--yes, there may be excitement, as you
put it."

"And my duties?" I asked, with a decidedly growing interest. "Remember,
I am your 'assistant.'"

"Behave like an intelligent confidential secretary. Observe everything,