"tell her two gentlemen for a consultation," jack manners announced at madame veno's door, nickson at his heels.

"madame can see no more clients this afternoon, sir," replied the neat woman in black silk. "she closes for business at six, and——"

"it's not six yet," cut in jack.

"no, sir, but she has a lady with her now. i have orders to receive no one else."

"can't you forget those orders, and persuade her to make an exception for us?" as he spoke, manners took from his pocket a cigarette-case and extracted from it a twenty-dollar bill.

it would have been simple—physically—to push past the spinster-like person in black, but jack could more easily have got over a high stone wall. luckily she liked the look of the bank-note.

"i might try, sir," she hesitated. "if trying's worth twenty dollars to you."

"it is," he replied, promptly.

the money changed hands.

the woman in black silk ceased to bar the entrance with her neat person.

jack walked into the flat, nickson after him.

again there was hesitation. evidently their guide was not sure where she ought to put them. jack imagined that he could read her thoughts. she feared to lead the forbidden visitors into the ordinary waiting-room. either there was someone there, or something that ought not to be seen; or the room was next the one where madame veno was with her "last client"—juliet! in that case, words might be overheard through a wall or door.

as he and nick were invited into a dining room, manners counted three doors on the opposite side of the hall, all closed. behind one of those he believed juliet to be hidden at that moment, probably in process of being blackmailed. he made up his mind quickly as to a plan of action, already half-decided on between nickson and himself.

"we're in no great hurry, so long as we see madame sooner or later," he told the woman who had let them in. "we wouldn't think of having you interrupt her."

"oh! i shouldn't dare do that, sir!" she broke in, pocketing the twenty dollars. as she spoke, jack caught a glance of awed respect which she cast across the corridor.

"the middle door," he said to himself.

"of course not," he said, aloud. "we'll wait. how'll you know when the client goes?"

"i expect madame will ring for me to open the front door, and let the lady out. that's what she usually does."

"very well, when the lady's gone speak for us."

perhaps the black-silk woman wondered why the nice young gentleman hadn't given her ten dollars to try, and a promise of ten more if she succeeded. but that was his affair. personally, she didn't expect to succeed. she was not acquainted with madame's private business, but there was certainly something of the first importance "on" this afternoon. no clients had been admitted since four o'clock except the beautiful blonde young lady who had announced herself the other day as the duchess of claremanagh or some name like that. before she was due two gentlemen had come up and hadn't given their names. but madame had expected them, and they were still with her when the duchess arrived. the black-silk woman had seen those gentlemen before, though never together. she had not much curiosity about them, for she was not of a curious disposition. that, madame said, was one reason why she had engaged her. she had been a stewardess on board ship, but had disliked the sea, especially during the war, when she had been torpedoed once. madame had crossed with her on three occasions, and the last time had offered her this place. some things she had seen had surprised and even shocked her a little, but she was well paid, and dry land was a good deal better than that nasty grey wet thing, the sea!

she felt that she had done right in putting these two new gentlemen into the dining room. if madame firmly refused to see them, they might possibly be smuggled away without her knowing they had actually been let into the flat.

"that elderly party isn't going to stay on watch," jack said to nickson, when they had been shut into the commonplace little room where madame veno ate her meals. "there's no uneasy curiosity in that meek make-up."

"that's wot i was thinkin' myself, sir," agreed old nick.

"we're in luck so far," jack went on. "it's time to begin reconnoitring." he went to the door. "if that decent body is in the hall, i shall ask her what time it is, and say my watch has gone slow—which is more than my heart has!"

nickson grinned.

jack peered out into the white-and-red corridor. nobody was there. the red glass lamp suspended from the ceiling looked to him like a mass of clotted blood.

he took two steps across to the middle door, and listened. then he returned hastily to nick. "they're in there! i heard the duchess's voice. sounds as if she were angry or frightened, or both. and there are two or more men. you and i have got to open the door, locked or unlocked."

"that's it, sir!" said nickson. "but it won't be locked. why should it? they don't suspect nothin', and if there's two men, 'er grice couldn't get past 'em. you let me make a dash and see wot 'appens, sir!"

"no," jack decided, "the dash is my job. you stand by, and if there's any dashing from the wrong side of the door, you'll know how to stop it, male or female."

"yes, sir!"

manners went again to the middle door. as he moved, nickson closed in behind him, a substantial bulk, and in his eyes the light which made "old nick" his right name. he stood in such a position that if any one rushed for the front door or even some back exit, escape could be made only over his body. he saw that captain manners took hold of the doorknob with his left hand. the right hand was in the outer pocket of his coat, and nickson knew what else was there. a similar thing was in a similar pocket of his own coat. it had been given to him by the captain, whom he now liked and respected next to the duke.

suddenly manners turned the handle and flung the door wide open with such violence that it struck the wall. he strode into the room. nickson blocked the doorway, but seeing with one glance that there was a door leading to another room, he took a step back to guard both.

it was a very green room—green as arsenic, he thought—lighted by one lamp, like a big emerald, on a centre table. looking in from across the threshold, however, nick could see four figures besides manners'. there was the duchess, tall and strangely white in a black dress and wide hat. there was another woman without a hat, also in black; a big, common hussy she looked to nickson, with an eye like a fierce snake's. and there were two men.

about the pair an odd thing was that they had some thin black stuff tied over their faces. captain manners went for one man—the one who seemed to show fight, and when the other (who hadn't spied nick yet) made for the door, nick received him in open arms.

the big woman squealed, and the duchess shrank back against the wall, then started forward again.

"oh, jack!" she cried, "they mustn't be killed! they know where pat is. they say if they aren't back there soon, someone will put an end to him!"

nick saw the woman, madame veno, he didn't doubt, spring for the electric-light button, but dragging his man with him, he was upon her like a tiger. one hand was enough for the man, who must have been a coward for he splashed about like a jelly with nick's fist in his collar. the other hand seized madame's arm as it was stretched out, and twisted it sharply. she gave a shriek, and sat down on the floor. then nick became conscious of a stealthy intelligence in the jelly. it was feeling toward his pocket, the pocket. but before the groping fingers reached their goal nick had snatched out the browning, and pressed the muzzle against a crape-covered forehead.

there wasn't much time for looking round just then, but nickson had done observation work in the war. the sixth of a second showed him that captain manners had reached this identical stage in his programme: which meant that each had a man at his mercy.

"take your mask off," ordered jack.

"same to you, my beauty," echoed nick.

the two obeyed.

"bill lowndes!" cried manners.

"know this brute, sir?" enquired nick.

"i do!" juliet gasped. "oh! you horrid wretch! and bill lowndes! i shouldn't have dreamed——"

"they're nightmares, both of 'em," broke in jack. "now, juliet, don't be scared. that's all rot about pat being done away with. nick and i are going to save time by making these—these skunks—tell us where he is. but we've a minute or so to spare. they've kept pat safe, i bet, for the sake of the ransom they meant to get out of you. there's a third-degree stunt going on in your house. sanders is grilling defasquelle and simone. it all comes back to this building that's like the web of a black spider—the inner circle—and we'll repeat that third-degree stunt here. who's this man you call a wretch?"

"his name's piggott," juliet panted. "he—was editor of a hateful paper in london—modern ways—almost as vile as the inner circle. emmy west introduced me to him. she said he wasn't bad really—if i'd meet him he'd put nice things in his paper instead of horrors—especially about pat. i said 'yes' for pat's sake—emmy insisted so. he came to harridge's, where i was staying, but before he or i had time to speak, pat was shown in. he gave one look, and begged me to go out—to leave this man to him. i had never seen pat like that—and i went. i never even heard the wretch's voice or i'd have recognized it, i think. he came here and talked to me three days ago—with this mask on. now bill lowndes comes with him. i don't know yet how or why he should be mixed up——"

"i do," said jack. "it's because they're both concerned with the inner circle, on the floor below. they've had simone in their pay, selling them news, and as for the pearls——"

"oh! if you'll let my husband go, i'll tell you everything!" wailed madame veno; stumbling up from the floor. "that's my husband, sam piggott. he's got nothing to do with the inner circle, except a little interest he's bought, because the owner is my step-brother. i'm english, and sam's irish, and our being in this business is an accident. it was all the duke's fault and markoff's fault——"

"shut your mouth," grunted the big man whom old nick held—a man few others could have held at all.

"shut yours—that's more to the point!" said nickson. apparently he meant the pistol's point. and piggott was silenced.

"will you let him go if i tell you things?" repeated the woman, shuddering at nick's gesture.

"that depends on how much you can tell," decided jack, coolly.

"i can tell everything," she moaned.

"begin by telling where the duke is."

both men started, but collapsed. madame veno choked and went on:

"he's in a room downstairs—in the basement. he's been there all the time. what happened was like this: the duke came one night to the office—i mean of the inner circle. he'd heard the editor would be there. i may as well tell you he'd got an anonymous letter to say so. it was found in his pocket. the duchess's maid or mademoiselle's french pal is sure to have sent it, wanting to get the duke out of their way. and they did get him out! it was the night of the first 'whisper' about the pearls and pavoya calling at the phayre house. the duke got into the place by a trick—sent word by an office boy that he had information to give. he was let into a room divided by a partition from the one where my step-brother was—the editor. you have to say what you've got to say by telephone there. you don't see any one. but the duke guessed who was on the other side. he put the chair on the table, and climbed up, so he could get over the partition. he'd wrenched off the receiver from the 'phone, to hit my step-brother with. when he was going for him my husband heard the row, and ran in from another room. he didn't make any noise, but came up from behind and cracked the duke over the back of the head with a big ruler. he had a right to do that, because the duke horsewhipped him publicly in london for what he'd published in modern ways, and spoiled england for us both. that's why we came to new york, and i took over the 'madame veno' business. i was 'madame ayesha' in bond street, and wore egyptian dress. i told you it was an accident we were mixed up in this. it wasn't my husband's fault. he had to defend his brother-in-law against a cowardly attack like that!

"as for mr. lowndes, he hated the duke for marrying miss phayre—just as lady west (who used to send us lots of news about folks she didn't like in london and paris) hated miss phayre for marrying the duke. mr. lowndes is one of the 'whisperer' lot. i mean he's one of several men who put together the 'whisperer' stuff that comes out under one name. he was in the office that night, and so was markoff the russian! your private detective was after markoff——"

"more about him and the others by-and-by," manners cut her short almost gently, "nick, would you like the job of going down to look for the duke?"

"i would that, sir!" nickson answered. "i'll give this big chap a smash the way he did 'is grice, and put him out o' count for while i'm way."

"no need for that. see if he's armed."

nickson "went through" his prisoner's pockets. there was only a pocket-knife, for piggott and lowndes had expected to meet no one more formidable than the duchess of claremanagh.

lowndes was also unarmed.

"that's all right," pronounced jack. "i and a browning can keep the pair and madame, too, in order. no, on second thoughts take her down with you. she'll show you the way, won't you, madame?"

"needs must, when the devil drives," she snapped.

"thanks for the compliment," laughed jack. "if any one knows the gentleman by sight, it must be you!"

"i shall go with them," juliet said.

"of course!" agreed manners.

madame veno turned and glared at her. "you gave us away in spite of your promise. you deserve to see what you will see down there. a dead man—killed by your husband. you'll save your dear duke only to have him sent to the chair."

juliet gave her look for look. "i didn't give you away. i did not dream my cousin was coming here! and i'd know by your face, even if i didn't know claremanagh, that he has killed no man. if there's a dead man where my husband is, someone else committed the murder."

"hear, hear! your grice!" shouted nickson, before he could remember to be respectful.

suddenly juliet heard herself laughing. then she began to sob: "oh, pat—pat! nick, take me to him!"

nickson flung piggott across the room, and grabbed madame veno by the arm.

the next thing the duchess knew, the door had shut behind them. jack was left alone with the two men. but juliet had forgotten jack.