"I think I know what has happened," she said. "Please let me go with you."
"It might not be agreeable to Mr. Melville," objected Forrester.
"Robert," she whispered, impressively, "you are safe only when I am with you!"
Forrester stared at her in astonishment. There was a beseeching look in her eyes, however, and she held her hands out to him with a pleading gesture which he could not resist.
"Come," he said, briefly, and taking her arm led her across the room and around through the hall into the conservatory. Near its center, hidden from prying eyes among palms and flowering plants, they found Mr. Melville's son stretched out on a bench. Near by stood the father, while a gray-haired man leaned over the young man. The gray-haired man stood erect at the sound of Forrester's and the girl's approach. Mr. Melville was apparently too much distressed to notice Mary Sturtevant's unbidden presence. He turned to Forrester, informing him simply that the gray-haired man was a doctor.
The deathly pallor on the young man's face told the story. Forrester, however, inquired:
"Dead?"
"Yes," replied the doctor. "Asphyxiated!"
"This is the work of the 'Friends of the Poor,' Forrester," asserted Mr. Melville. "I knew that you were involved and had been carrying on some investigations in the matter. It occurred to me that there might be some clues here of value to you. This is the story:
"About two weeks ago I was ordered by these people to place a certain sum in that oak tree. Naturally, I ignored the demand and notified the police. Since then I have taken every precaution to protect myself against attack. Unable to get at me, it seems obvious that these contemptible wretches have reached me through my son. That, I believe, is a new angle, and shows the extremes to which these people are prepared to go."