Charred Wood

"Which is Mr. Saunders?" he asked. The detective reached out his hand and the boy gave him one of the messages. "The other one," he said, "is for Mr. Griffin.

"Sign here, please." The boy extended his book. Both men signed and the boy went out. Sitting down in a corner of the writing room, Mark and Saunders looked at one another, then at the yellow envelopes.

"Why don't you open your telegram, Saunders?" asked Mark.

"Because I know pretty well what's in it. I guessed it would be coming. I am ordered off this case, for the men who employed our agency have no use for me after last night. They have found everything out for themselves, and have settled it in their own way. Why don't you open yours?"

"For opposite reasons to yours, old chap: because I don't know what's in it, and, whatever it is, I don't think I shall like it. I have not had many messages of this kind. None but my solicitors would send one, and that means trouble. But here goes!"

Mark tore off the end of the envelope, opened the message and read. Saunders did the same with his. One glance was enough for each.

"I told you so," said Saunders. "Here's my message: 'Central disconnected.'"

Mark looked up with surprise.

"'Central disconnected'? What's that, Saunders? More United States?"

"It's our code," replied the detective, "for 'Come back to the central office at once. Our connection with the case is at an end.'"

There was a trace of pain in Mark's face, as he handed his own telegram over for Saunders to read. It was from New York: "Harvey, Sullivan and Riggs, your solicitors, wire us to find you and say that your brother is dead and that you are to return at once."

"I'm sorry, Griffin, very sorry." There was real sympathy in Saunders' voice. "Perhaps it is better that you should go. It may be a way out. Your Ambassador can help you. I've got to stay and face it. Yes, it would be better for you to go."

"You're wrong, Saunders." Mark's voice had a decided note in it. "My disappearance might complicate the international part of the situation. Baron Griffin was a member of the House of Lords, and quite a personage. And I am the only brother of that late personage. He had no children. I can fight better here--as Baron Griffin."

"Great Scott!" cried Saunders. "Come to think of it, you are Baron Griffin now!"

"Yes, I am, and only half sorry for it, much as I regret my brother's death. What are you going to do, Saunders?"