A hard little laugh. Again the click of a revolver.

"I want from you several things. First of all, and most important, the
address of the writer of that letter which you have just been reading."

"That's precisely," Douglas said, "what I should like to know myself.
The lady does not give it."

"You are very near death, Douglas Guest. Her address?

"I am not in the habit of swearing," Douglas answered, "but upon my oath
it is not in this letter. Upon my oath I do not know it."

He caught the sound of a sob, but when he would have turned his head
there came again the sharp click of the revolver and an angry
exclamation from his unseen adversary.

"Stand as you are. If by chance you should see my face I will shoot
you. I have killed men before, and I have no love for you."

Then Douglas knew that his assailant, if not a lunatic, was surely
verging upon madness. He looked towards the door--the distance was too
far. No answer occurred to him which seemed discreet, so he remained
silent.

"As to her state of health, Douglas Guest. She has been ill."

"I know nothing save that she is better."