WHEREIN MR.

FORBES EXPLAINS HIMSELF Even the boldest may flinch when confronted with that which is apparently a manifestation of the supernatural.

Theydon and Forbes were standing in a chamber of death.

To the best of their belief they were alone in an otherwise empty flat, and those ominous words coming from some one unknown and unseen blanched their faces with terror.
But Theydon was a healthy and athletic young Englishman, and Forbes was of the rare order which combines a frame of exceptional physique with a mind accustomed to think imperially; two such men might be trusted to display real grit if surrounded by a horde of veritable spooks.
The door was thrown wide as they turned at the sound of the words, and Theydon recognized in a strange little figure--wearing a blue serge suit, a straw hat and brown boots--Furneaux, the man whom he had looked on as somewhat of a crank and visionary during their talk of the previous night.
"You ?" he gasped, and the note of recognition was sharpened by a sudden sense of dismay, almost of alarm, because of the overwhelming knowledge that now all his scheming had collapsed, while the representatives of Scotland Yard would regard him as nothing more than a poor sort of trickster.
But Forbes was not in the habit of yielding to any man, no matter what his status, or howsoever awe-inspiring might be the department of state which he represented.
"Who the devil are you, at any rate ?" he cried angrily.

"And what right have you to spy on gentlemen in this manner, listening to their conversation, and breaking in with a cheap stage effect obviously intended to startle ?" Furneaux remained motionless, his feet set well apart and his hands thrust into his trousers pockets.