Five minutes later he heard a heavy step hurrying through the shop, and the form of Mr. Copperdock appeared unceremoniously through the curtain that covered the door of the inner room. Mr. Ludgrove rose to his feet in concern. The tobacconist’s face was deathly pale, and his hands were trembling violently. He staggered across the room, and sank down into the chair he had so lately quitted.

He held out one shaking hand open towards the herbalist. “Here, look at this!” he exclaimed in a queer hoarse voice.

The herbalist bent over the outstretched hand. In the palm of it lay a white counter, upon which the figure VI had been roughly drawn in red ink.