systematically robbing the rich men of New York for three years,
under various subterfuges. No wonder he could afford such
gorgeous collections of art, keeping aloof from his associates in
crime. His treasures, like those in many European museums were
bought with blood. It is curious how a complex case like this
smooths itself out so simply when the key is obtained. And you,
Helene, have been the genius to supply that key: my own work has
been merely corroborative!"

He looked at the delicate features of the girl, remembering with
a recurring thrill the margin by which they had escaped death in
the cellar den of the conspirators.

"Cleary and Dick Holloway told me how cleverly you led the men to
the Somerset where you followed my trail through the mole's
passage. It was a frightful risk for you to take: Cleary should
have had more sense and led the way himself."

Helene's lips pursed themselves into a tempting pout.

"Are you not happier that it was I, at that supreme moment?"

"Indeed I am: success was all the sweeter. There is remaining
only one mystery which I must admit is still unsolved in this
curious affair. And that is you. Who are you?"

She parried with the same question.

"I know your name, sir, but you profess to be a society
butterfly, flitting from pleasure to dissipation, and back again.