surged through his brain,--the abrupt attack at the door; the arrival of
the police agent.

Furtively the prisoner felt his pocket; the memorandum book containing
the paper that had cost so much was gone; he looked at the agent. Had it
been shifted to Mr. Gillett's possession, or, dimly he recalled his
assailant's last words, had Rogers succeeded in snatching the precious
evidence from his breast before escaping? In the latter case, it had,
undoubtedly, ere this, been destroyed; in the former, it would,
presumably, soon be transferred to the police agent's employer. To
regain the paper, if it existed, would be no light task; yet it was the
pivot upon which John Steele's fortunes hung. The principal signer was,
in all likelihood, making his way out of London now; he would, in a few
hours, reach the sea, and after that disappear from the case. At any
rate, John Steele could have nothing to hope from him in the future; the
opportune or inopportune appearance of the police agent would savor of
treachery to him. John Steele moved, quickly, impatiently; but a hand,
swung carelessly behind him, moved also,--a hand that held something
hard.

Thereafter he remained outwardly quiescent; resistance on his part, and
the consequences that would ensue, might not be displeasing to his chief
enemy; it would settle the case in short and summary fashion.
Justification for extreme proceedings would be easily forthcoming and
there would be none to answer for John Steele.

Where were they going? John Steele could not surmise; he saw, however
that they had left behind the neighborhood of hovels, narrow passages
and byways, and traversed now one of the principal circuses. There the
street traffic moved smoothly; they seemed but an unimportant part of an