would think that I had been followed," he remarked. "The man
who has just looked into the room is one of Mr. Fentolin's parasites or
bodyguards, or whatever you call them."

"You probably have," Kinsley agreed. "What post does he hold in the
household?"

"I have no idea," Hamel replied. "I saw him the first day I arrived and
not since. Sort of secretary, I should think."

"He is a queer-looking fellow, anyway," Kinsley muttered. "Look out,
Dick. Here he comes back again."

Mr. Ryan approached the table a little diffidently.

"I hope you will forgive the liberty, sir," he said to Hamel. "You
remember me, I trust--Mr. Ryan. I am the librarian at St. David's Hall."

Hamel nodded.

"I thought I'd seen you there."

"I was wondering," the man continued, "whether you had a car of Mr.
Fentolin's in Norwich to-day, and if so, whether I might beg a seat
back in case you were returning before the five o'clock train? I came
in early this morning to go through some manuscripts at a second-hand
bookseller's here, and I have unfortunately missed the train back."

Hamel shook his head.

"I came in by train myself, or I would have given you a lift back, with
pleasure," he said.

Mr. Ryan expressed his thanks briefly and left the room. Kinsley watched
him from over the top of a newspaper.

"So that is one of Mr. Fentolin's creatures, too," he remarked. "Keeping
his eye on you in Norwich, eh? Tell me, Dick, by-the-by, how do you get
on with the rest of Mr. Fentolin's household, and exactly of whom does
it consist?"

"There is his sister-in-law," Hamel replied, "Mrs. Seymour Fentolin. She
is a strange, tired-looking woman who seems to stand in mortal fear of
Mr. Fentolin. She is always overdressed and never natural, but it seems
to me that nearly everything she does is done to suit his whims, or at
his instigation."

Kinsley nodded thoughtfully.

"I remember Seymour Fentolin," he said; "a really fine fellow he was.
Well, who else?"

"Just the nephew and niece. The boy is half sullen, half discontented,
yet he, too, seems to obey his uncle blindly. The three of them seem
to be his slaves. It's a thing you can't live in the house without
noticing."

"It seems to be a cheerful sort of household," Kinsley observed. "You
read the papers, I suppose, Dick?" he asked, after a moment's pause.

"On and off, the last few days. I seem to have been busy doing all sorts
of things."

"Well, I'll tell you something," Kinsley cont