"I'm not joking," Jimmy returned, with all gravity. "I'm telling you this in deadly earnest. The Red Rat is Madame Bernstein's husband. He was sentenced to transportation for life in St. Petersburg, was sent to Siberia, and later on was drafted to Saghalien."
"Is this true, MacAndrew?" inquired Browne. "You should know."
"It is quite true," said MacAndrew. "For my part, I always thought he was the man you were trying to rescue. If you will look at it you will find that he tallies exactly with Madame's description of the man we wanted."
"Oh heavens! how we have been deceived!" groaned Browne. Then, as another thought struck him, he added, "But if this is so, then Miss Petrovitch's father is still in captivity."
"No," said MacAndrew; "he has escaped."
"What do you mean? When did he escape?"
"He is dead. He died early last year."
A silence that lasted upwards of five minutes fell upon the trio.
"The more I think of it the farther I am from understanding it," Browne said at last. "Why should I have been singled out for the task of rescuing this man, in whom I don't take the least bit of interest?"
"Because you are rich," muttered Jimmy. "Why, my dear fellow, it's all as plain as daylight, now that we've got the key to the puzzle. Madame was aware that Miss Petrovitch would do anything to rescue her father, and so would the man she loved. Therefore, when you, with your money, your influence, and, above all, your yacht, came upon the scene, she took advantage of the opportunity Providence had sent her, and laid her plans accordingly. You know the result."