r there, and he assures me that our
dear friend never returned from Poland and that no one knows anything of
him, not even Mr. Gessner. Anna, the daughter, I understand, is married
to an old acquaintance of ours and has taken a little house in Curzon
Street. She liked to go the--er--hem--pace, as the people say; and she
is mated to one who will not be afraid of exceeding the legal limits.
Mr. Gessner himself is on his yacht, and is supposed to be cruising off
the coast of Norway. That is what they tell me. I have no reason to
doubt the truth of their information. Would to heaven I had. Kennedy was
a friend, a true friend, while he was in England. I have known many a
bitter night since he left us."

He sighed, but valiantly, and applied himself once more to the pewter
pot. It was a terrible night outside, raining heavily and blowing a
bitter wind. Even here on the stage of the deserted theatre a chilling
draught sported with their candles and made fine ghosts for them upon
the faded canvas. Talk of Alban Kennedy seemed to have depressed them
all. They uttered no word for many minutes, not indeed until one of the
iron doors suddenly swung open and Alban himself came in among them. He
was drenched to the skin, for he had carried no umbrella, and wore but a
light travelling suit, the identical one in which he had returned from
Poland. Very pale and worn and thin, this, they said, was the ghost of
the Alban who had left them in the early summer. And his manner was as
odd as his appearance. You might almost have said that he had thrown the
last shred of the aristocratic rags to the winds and put on old habits
so long discarded that they were almost forgotten. When he crossed the
stage to them, it was with his former air of dogged indifference and
cynical self-content. Explanations were neither offered nor asked. He
flung his hat aside and sat upon the corner of a crazy sofa despised by
the rest of the company. A hungry look, cast upon the inviting
delicacies, betrayed the fact that he was hungry. Be sure it was not
lost upon the watchful Sarah.

"Good Gawd, to see him walk in amongst us like that. Why, Mr. Kennedy,
whatever's up, whatever brings you here a night like this?"

Alban had always admired the Lady Sarah, he admired her more than ever
to-night.

"Wind and rain, Sarah," he said shortly, "they brought me here, to say
nothing of Master Betty cutting across the street as though the cops
were at his heels. How are yo