he cool, starlit night. People were
strolling about in evening clothes, hatless, the women in white opera
cloaks and filmy gowns, their silk-stockinged feet very much in
evidence, resembling almost some strange kind of tropical birds with
their little shrill laughter and graceful movements, as they made their
way towards the Club or round to the Rooms, or to one of the restaurants
for supper. Whilst Hunterleys hesitated, there was a touch upon his arm.
He glanced around.

"Hullo, David!" he exclaimed. "Were you waiting for me?"

The young man fell into step by his side.

"I have been to the hotel," he said, in a low tone. "They thought you
might be here. Can you come up later--say at one o'clock?"

"Certainly," Hunterleys answered. "Where's Sidney?"

"He's working now. He'll be home by half-past twelve unless anything
goes wrong. He thinks he'll have something to tell you."

"I'll come," Hunterleys agreed. "How's Felicia?"

"All right, but working herself to death," the young man replied. "She
is getting anxious, too. Give her a word of encouragement if you see her
to-night. She was hoping you might have been up to see her."

"I won't forget," Hunterleys promised.

The young man drifted silently away, and Hunterleys, after a moment's
hesitation and a glance at his watch, turned towards the Club. He
climbed the broad staircase, surrendered his hat and turned in at the
roulette room. The magic of the music was still in his veins, and he
looked around him almost eagerly. There was no sign of Violet. He
strolled into the baccarat room but she was not there. Perhaps she, too,
had been at the Opera. In the bar he found Richard Lane, sitting moodily
alone. The young man greeted him warmly.

"Come and have a drink, Sir Henry," he begged. "I've got the hump."

Hunterleys sat down by his side.

"Whiskey and apollinaris," he ordered. "What's the matter with you,
Richard?"

"She isn't here," the young man declared. "I've been to the Rooms and
she isn't there either."

"What about the Opera?" Hunterleys asked.

"I started at the Opera," Lane confessed, "took a box so as to be able
to see the whole house. I sat through the first act but there wasn't a
sign of her. Then I took a spin out and had another look at the villa.
It was all lit up as though there were a party. I very nearly marched
in."

"Just as well you didn't, I think," Hunterleys remarked, smiling. "I see
you're feeling just the same about it."

The