Edgar Wallace

“ She knows—damn her! She knows!” said Cæsar breathlessly.
“Knows what?” asked Smith.
“She knows that she is Welland's daughter. You fool, didn't you—guess that all along?”
Smith said nothing.
“Welland's daughter! The heiress to Ross' millions. It isn't essential that this girl should live—not essential to me, you understand, Smith? If the little fool had kept her mouth shut! How she discovered the fact that she was Welland's daughter is a mystery to me—we could have been rich men, and we may be rich men still. You're in the swim as deeply as I am. It's our lives that are at stake.” ”

“ When Cæsar said that Mrs. Welland's girl had died, he had lied as surely as when he had spoken of the unfortunate wife of John Welland as being dead; for that she was the woman of the manacles, the tragic figure that crossed the midnight lawn at Maisons Lafitte, Smith was certain.
He sat for an hour regarding these examples of Stephanie Welland's artistic training, then he gathered the masks together, wrapped them in paper, and carried them to his rooms. Somehow he knew instinctively that the days of Cæsar Valentine were numbered, and incidentally the days of Tray-Bong Smith. ”

“ So old Mr. Ross knew that she was his granddaughter, and had gone away—where? He had been absent two days while Stephanie was impersonating him in his rooms—Smith remembered that Cæsar had told him that-she had gone to Scotland. There would be little difficulty in imposing upon the servants of the hotel. Mr. Ross was a tetchy man and the servants never went to his rooms unless they were sent for. ”