When Mrs. Toby had left the room Wallion said: "Did you know that there were two men named Dreyel?"
Tom shook his head.
"I never heard Christian Dreyel mentioned, maybe he is a brother. I don't know."
The young man's voice sounded listless and tired; the existing complication seemed too much for him, his brain was in a whirl; he only longed to get away from it all and go to sleep. With a prolonged yawn, thrusting his hands into his pockets, he said:
"Perhaps we had better send a telegram to the other Dreyel; he is, naturally, the person most nearly concerned.... Hallo! what's this?" He broke off suddenly and from his pocket he drew forth a gray glove and a crumpled piece of paper.
"Look here, Wallion, here's a letter I found on Dreyel's table."
Wallion took the letter and began to read it, lifting his eyebrows. "This is prime stuff, of the first order," he said, "a letter from Victor Dreyel to Christian Dreyel...."
He read the epistle out loud: "Dear Christian," it began. "You are quite right, miracles do not happen now-a-days but justice may prevail in the end. The wooden dolls were only the beginning, a caution, a warning. To-day I got a telegram which I enclose. Who is it from? I don't know whether it is true that Toroni is still alive, but if he is, strange things are likely to happen. They are all gone ... all, that crazy Craig Russel, Sanderson, the black Colonel, all gone. All, save William Robertson, myself and you, and the mystery of King Solomon is not solved. Fifteen years have I been living in this somber and quiet corner; perhaps it was my time of probation all along. They say likenesses of the dead bring misfortune to the living. After all those years it was a curious gift to you and me; and whatever may happen to-night, I shall not give in without a struggle..."
Wallion stopped. "It is not finished," he said, "Death stepped in between."
"King Solomon's secret," repeated Tom. "Secret indeed ... What a loathsome word! And what has Elaine Robertson to do with King Solomon's affairs?"