hatter. They've come raining in on me by every post—if you look at them you'll see that there is a different postmark on every one of them."
"Are you certain that they are infernal machines?"
"I'll lay you ten to one in anything you like to name that they are, and leave you to prove the contrary—that's the extent of my certainty, Mr. Champnell. Only if you take my advice you'll keep them immersed in water until the thing has been shown to demonstration, either one way or the other. I have no desire to be blown to pieces, if you have."
"Have you no sort of idea where they come from?"
"Once upon a time I was fool enough to enrol myself as a member of a certain secret society. I have broken since then pretty nearly every one of its rules, which I swore to observe, and I think it quite on the cards that these things may have come from some of the society's agents. I'll tell you what I'll do; instead of a hundred and fifty guineas, I'll give you two hundred, if you prove, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they don't. I've come to you instead of going to the police, because I want the thing kept private, but at the same time I am particularly anxious to know if at last the beggars are beginning to try to do what they have threatened to do, times without number."
The Marquis's story was a long one, and not a little involved; some of Mr. Champnell's questions he declined, point blank, to answer. When he had gone, Mr. Champnell still found himself in possession of very slight data to enable him to prosecute
