"You must convince him," I declared. "All the proofs I can give you are here. There is an account of the meeting at the summer house of Mrs. Van Reinberg at Lenox, with the names of all who were present and particulars of what transpired. There is a copy of my admission into the Waiters' Union, with some significant notes."

"This is all?" he asked.

"All!" I repeated. "Isn't it sufficient?"

"Polloch is an Englishman," my cousin said slowly, "and you know what that means. He will need some convincing!"

"Then you must convince him," I declared. "I am risking my life over this business, Gilbert, and we can none of us tell which way the pendulum will swing. I know that Polloch is one of the old school of statesmen, and hates Secret Service work. If it were not for that, such a plot as this could never have been developed under his very nose. It is absolutely necessary, Gilbert, that, under some pretext or another, the home fleet is mobilized within the next fortnight."

"It's a large order, Jim!"

"It's got to be," I answered. "You don't know what a relief it is, Gilbert, to sit here and talk to you about these things. Guest and I scarcely ever speak of them. And all the time the minutes slip by, and we get nearer the time. Guest and I are playing a desperate game after all--a single slip and we should be wiped out. And no one else knows."

Gilbert looked up at me quickly, as though a new thing had come into his mind.

"Jim," he said, "have you seen Miss Van Hoyt?"

"Not since I was at Lenox," I answered. "She must still believe that I was the man who was murdered in the Rocky Mountains--and I dare not let her know!"

"She certainly does believe it, Jim," my cousin answered gravely. "She was here last week--she is coming to see me again to-day."

"In England!" I exclaimed. "Adele in England!"

"Not only that," my cousin continued, "but I believe that her coming was on your account."

"Tell me exactly what you mean," I demanded.

Gilbert leaned a little towards me.

"Jim," he said, "has there been anything between you and Miss Van Hoyt?"

"This much," I answered, "that but for these confounded happenings, she would have been my wife. If ever I do marry anybody, it will be she."

Gilbert nodded gravely.

"I thought so," he answered. "Well, I can tell you something that will perhaps surprise you. Miss Van Hoyt is also--"

He broke off in his sentence. We both sprang to our feet. A woman's clear musical voice was distinctly audible in the hall outside.

"It is she," he declared. "Do you want her to find you here, to know that you are alive?"

"Good God! No!" I answered.

He pointed to the curtains which separated the apartment from the dining-room. I stepped through them quickly, just as Groves knocked at the door.

The Great Secret by Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

CHAPTER XXXIII

A REUNION OF HEARTS