When alone in his bedroom Giles smoked a complacent pipe.
"If any one did try to follow me," he said to himself, "he must have missed me when I took the underground railway."
It was close on half-past eleven when he ended his wanderings, too late to call at the Westminster flat.
But Giles thought that Olga would never think he had traced her flight with Anne, and would not do anything till the morrow, probably not before twelve o'clock.
He was up early, and went off to New Scotland Yard to see Steel.
He did not intend to tell him about Anne, thinking that the detective might arrest her if he knew of her whereabouts.
But he desired to know if Steel had discovered anything in connection with the Scarlet Cross.
Also, since Steel knew Olga so well, he might be able to explain why she had come down with her mother to Rickwell, and why the elder Princess had called on Franklin.
He half thought that Olga, keeping her promise, had brought Anne to London to have her taken in charge by Steel.
But on second thoughts he fancied that Olga would keep Anne as a hostage, and not deliver her up if he—Giles—agreed to become her husband.
Thus thinking he went to see Steel.
The detective was within, and saw Giles at once.
He looked very pleased with himself, and saluted Ware with a triumphant smile.
"Well, sir," he said, "I have found out an astonishing lot of things."
"About the murder?" asked Ware apprehensively.
"No." Steel's face fell. "That is still a mystery, and I expect will be one until that woman—I mean that young lady—is found."
"Do you mean Miss Denham?" demanded Ware stiffly.
"Yes.
Do you know where she is?"
Giles shook his head.
He was not going to betray Anne to her enemy, as Steel in his detective capacity assuredly was.
"I wish I did," he said. "I have been at Rickwell trying to find out things.
I'll tell you of my discoveries later.
Meantime——"
"You want to hear about mine," cried the detective eagerly and full of his subject. "Well, the murder can wait.
I'll get to the bottom of that, Mr. Ware.
But I am now quite of your opinion. Miss Denham is innocent.
This man Wilson killed the girl."
"I knew that Walter Franklin was guilty," cried Ware.
"I said Wilson," was Steel's reply.
"I forgot; you don't know about Wilson alias Franklin. I'll tell you later. Go on, Steel.
I'm all attention."
"Oh!
So his real name is Franklin.
I never knew that," said Steel, drawing his hand down his chin. "Well, Mr. Ware, I have been to all the ports in the kingdom, and I have learned that wherever that yacht—she's a steam yacht—The Red Cross has been, burglaries have been committed.
At last I managed to lay my hand on a member of the gang, and made him speak up."
"What gang?"
"A gang of burglars headed by the man I call Wilson and your Franklin—the Scarlet Cross Society.
They own that yacht, and steam from port to port committing robberies.
A splendid idea, and Wilson's own."
Then he unfolded to the astonished Giles a long career of villany on the part of the said Wilson.
The young man shuddered as the vile category of crime was unrolled.
It was horrible that such a wretch as Walter Franklin should be the father of Anne.
But for all her parent's vices, Giles never swerved from the determination to marry the girl.
He was not one of those who think that the sins of the father should be visited on the child.
"What is the name of the man who confessed all this?" asked Giles.
"Mark Dane."
Ware started.
That was the name of the man Anne had mentioned as her father's secretary.
However, he said nothing, and when Steel requested him to tell all he knew about Wilson, he related everything save that he was Anne's father.