t him short.

"You are saying this because she is dead. If she were living you would
not care what I did, or what became of me." Suddenly her voice changed
wildly. "Oh, let me go--let me _go_!"

For a moment their glances met, and for the first time in his spoilt
and pampered life Jimmy Challoner saw hatred looking at him through a
woman's eyes. It drove the hot blood to his head; he was unnerved with
the shock he had suffered that evening. For a moment he saw the world
red; he lifted his clenched fist.

"Go, then--and a damned good riddance!"

"Jimmy!" Her scream of terror stayed his hand, and kept him from
striking her. He staggered back, aghast at the thing he had so nearly
done.

"Christine--Christine----" he stammered; but she had gone. The
shutting and locking of her bedroom door was his only answer.

CHAPTER XV

SANGSTER SPEAKS IN RIDDLES

Sangster heard of Cynthia Farrow's death late that night.

He was walking up Fleet Street when he ran into a man he knew--a man
whom Jimmy knew also; he stopped and caught him by his buttonhole.

"I say, have you heard--awful thing, isn't it?"

Sangster stared.

"Heard! Heard what?"

"About Cynthia Farrow. Had a frightful accident--in Mortlake's car."

Sangster's eyes woke to interest.

"Badly hurt?" he asked briefly.

"Dead!"

"My God!" There was a moment of tragic silence. "Dead!" said Sangster
again. He could not believe it; his face was very pale. "Dead!" he
said again. His thoughts flew to Jimmy Challoner. "Are you sure?" he
asked urgently. "There's no mistake--you're quite sure?"

"Sure! Man alive, it's in all the papers! They've all got hold of a
different story, of course; some say she never recovered
consciousness, and others----" He lowered his voice. "I happen to
know that she did," he added confidentially. "She sent for Challoner,
and he was with her when she died."

"Challoner--Jimmy Challoner!" Sangster repeated his friend's name
dully. The one shocked thought of his heart was "Christine."

"I always knew she really liked him," the other man went on
complacently. "If he'd had Mortlake's money----" He shrugged his
shoulders significantly.

Sangster waited to hear no more; he went straight to Jimmy's hotel. It
was late then--nearly eleven. The hall porter said in reply to his
inquiry that Mr. and Mrs. Challoner had both been in all the evening,
he thought, and were still in; he looked at Sangster's agi