CHAPTER VIII.
THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY 1.
Something in the nature of a conference was proceeding in Quest's study.
The Professor was there, seated in the most comfortable easy-chair, smoking without relish one of his host's best cigars, watching with nervous impatience the closed door.

Laura and Lenora were seated at the table, dressed for the street.

They had the air of being prepared for some excursion.

Quest, realising the Professor's highly-strung state, had left him alone for a few moments and was studying a map of New York.

The latter, however, was too ill at ease to keep silent for long.
"Our friend French," he remarked, "gave you no clue, I suppose, as to the direction in which his investigations are leading him ?" Quest glanced up from the map.
"None at all.