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A desire for the punishment of Wildred might have held a prominent place both in Cunningham's mind and mine, but our first thought was to save Karine from becoming the murderer's wife. She must be disabused of the belief that her brother was in any way in Wildred's power. She must know that, as Cunningham expressed it, the "shoe was on the other foot."

I guessed at Wildred's powerful influence in the affair, and was ready to fancy others; but, as I was to learn long afterward, I brought forward every reason for Karine's mysterious inertness save the right one. The Quest It was a piercingly cold day when I landed in New York such cold as I had not felt since I had finished my last American visit, four years ago.

Carson Wildred, who had throughout done all in his power to further the investigations. The search for the man from the camp near the backwater would therefore be carried on upon the same lines as before. A hot sense of injustice burned within me. I had been thwarted on every side, not, I believed, by the revelation of truth, but by Carson Wildred's superior cunning.

"It'll be a nasty business to examine Mr. Wildred's house, in case your friend Mr. Farnham should prove to be all right over in the States. But we can't lose any time. What you've told me to-day is very serious, sir, and must be attended to at once. A couple of detectives will call at the House by the Lock with a search-warrant before nightfall. I can assure you of that.

At Charing Cross they had not appeared, and hastening to a telegraph office, I sent messages containing Wildred's description and Karine's to every one of the principal railway stations in London. Replies were paid, and were to be received for me at the Charing Cross Hotel.

I knew now where I had seen those strange light eyes of Carson Wildred's, and what was the deed with which they had connected themselves in my mind. After all, perhaps, I had not come to America for nothing! My memory travelled back over a space of ten years. I had then come back to San Francisco after an expedition into distant wilds with a party of friends shooting grizzlies in the Rockies.

Involuntarily I turned and glanced behind me. No name had been announced, though I had heard the opening and closing of the door, and now, as I faced round in that direction, I saw that Sir Walter Tressidy and Carson Wildred had come in together. Evidently this was not Wildred's first entrance, for like Sir Walter, he had neither hat nor stick.

"We did look about for something of the sort, and even went down a cellar," said the detective, "but saw not the slightest sign to suggest a hidden door." "Well, go on then to Mr. Wildred's return," I exclaimed impatiently. "I am anxious to learn why it has been decided that I put you on the wrong track."

The room felt the colder to me for Carson Wildred's presence. Half an hour dragged along, and I was thinking of moving on, when, as I passed Wildred with a slight inclination in return for his, somewhat to my surprise he followed me. "How do you do?" he said, with an attempt at an ingratiating smile.

Those are only Wildred's enemies, of course, for like most men of strong character he has a few, though on the whole his generosity has made him extremely popular." "Then he knew no one when he first appeared over the social horizon?" I went on questioning. Driscoll laughed.