hail.

The overturned reading lamp, the broken chair, the letters and
papers strewn about the floor, the rifled bureau drawers - these
things spoke plainly enough. Gregor was a prisoner somewhere in
this vast city; or he was dead.

Hawksley stood motionless for a space. And he must remain here at
least for a night and a day! He would not dare risk another hotel.
He could, of course, go to the splendid Rathbone place; but it would
not be fair to invite tragedy across that threshold.

A ball of crushed paper at his feet attracted his attention. He
kicked it absently, followed and picked it up, his thought on other
things. He was aimlessly smoothing it out when an English word
caught his eye. English! He smoothed the crumpled sheet and read:

If you find this it is the will of God. I have been watched
for several days, and am now convinced that they have always
known I was here but were leaving me alone for some unknown
purpose. I roll this ball because anything folded and left
in a conspicuous place would be useless should they come for
me. I understand. It is you, poor boy. They are watching
me in hopes of catching you, and I've no way to warn you not
to come here. It was after I sent you the key that I learned
the truth. God bless you and guard you!
STEFANI.


Hawksley tore the note into scraps. Food and sleep. He walked