the
train, as far as Harwich?"

Mr. Dunster avoided, for the moment, a direct reply. He had the air of a
man who, whether reasonably or unreasonably, disliked the request which
had been made to him.

"You are particularly anxious to cross to-night?" he asked.

"I am," the youth admitted emphatically. "I never ought to have risked
missing the train. I am due at The Hague to-morrow."

Mr. John P. Dunster moved his position a little. The light from a
rain-splashed gas lamp shone now full upon the face of his suppliant: a
boy's face, which would have been pleasant and even handsome but for the
discontented mouth, the lowering forehead, and a shadow in the eyes, as
though, boy though he certainly was in years, he had already, at
some time or another, looked upon the serious things of life. His
nervousness, too, was almost grotesque. He had the air of disliking
immensely this asking a favour from a stranger. Mr. Dunster appreciated
all these things, but there were reasons which made him slow in granting
the young man's request.

"What is the nature of your pressing business at The Hague?" he asked.

The youth hesitated.

"I am afraid," he said grimly, "that you will not think it of much
importance. I am on my way to play in a golf tournament there."

"A golf tournament at The Hague!" Mr. Dunster repeated, in a slightly
altered tone. "What is your name?"

"Gerald Fentolin."

Mr. Dunster stood quite still for a moment. He was possessed of a
wonderful memory, and he was conscious at that moment of a subtle appeal
to it. Fentolin! There was something in the name which seemed to him
somehow associated with the things against which he was on guard. He
stood with puzzled frown, reminiscent for several minutes, unsuccessful.
Then he suddenly smiled, and moving underneath the gas lamp, shook open
an evening paper which he had been carrying. He turned over the pages
until he arrived at the sporting items. Here, in almost the first
paragraph, he saw the name which had happened to catch his eye a moment
or two before:

GOLF AT THE HAGUE

Among the entrants for the tournament which commences
to-morrow, are several well-known English players,
including Mr. Barwin, Mr. Parrott, Mr. Hillard and
Mr. Gerald Fentolin.

Mr. Dunster folded up the newspaper and replaced it in his pocket. He
turned towards the young man.

"So you're a golfer, are you?"

"I play a bit," was the somewhat indi