CONTENTS: I Concerns a VisitorII Contains Certain RevelationsIII The Name of "Smithson"IV Further MysteryV Puts Certain QuestionsVI The House in the SquareVII Treading among ShadowsVIII More MysteryIX The Gentleman named PaultonX Relates a Strange IncidentXI Contains some Strange NewsXII Gossip from the SunshineXIII In the WebXIV The PerfumeXV Within an AceXVI The Harvest of FireXVII Found in the DebrisXVIII In Which the Mask is RaisedXIX More RevelationsXX Concerns a Mysterious LightXXI Contains a Further SurpriseXXII A Secret is DisclosedXXIII Contains Another RevelationXXIV A Further TangleXXV Towards the TruthXXVI Mr. Smithson AgainXXVII In the ShadowXXVIII The Unknown To-morrowXXIX A Strange Truth is ToldXXX Contains the End *** an excerpt from CHAPTER I: CONCERNS A VISITOR "Do you know a Mr. Smithson, Gwen?" Sir Charles Thorold asked his wife abruptly as he stood astride before the big fire in the hall. "Smithson?" Lady Thorold answered as she poured out the tea. "No. Who is he?" "I have no idea. Never heard of him." Then, addressing the butler, Sir Charles asked anxiously-- "Did he leave a card, James?" "No, Sir Charles. He asked to see you--or her ladyship." "Or me?" Lady Thorold exclaimed. "Why, how very mysterious. What was he like?" "A tall, powerfully-built man, m'lady." "A gentleman?" "M'yes, m'lady. He came in a car." As James said this in his grave, solemn way, I saw Vera Thorold 's eyes twinkle with amusement. For Sir Charles's only child possessed that gift rare in a woman--a sense of humour. "You are sure you have the name right?" Thorold said, after a moment's pause. "Quite, Sir Charles. I think he was not going to give his name, as you were out. I asked him what name, and he seemed to hesitate, then he said: * Oh, say Mr. Smithson called. Sir Charles knows me,' and then he seemed to smile. Sir Charles." "He seemed to smile. I wonder why?" His master turned to Lady Thorold. "What do you make of it, Gwen?" "I make nothing of it," replied his wife. "Is it some friend of yours. Vera?" "Mother, how ridiculous," the girl exclaimed; "as if I should have a friend called ' Smithson '!" "Pardon me, Sir Charles, but" broke in the butler. "Well, what?" "There is a portrait of him in the morning-room."