faded green silk damask.

I, however, took very little note of my surroundings, so anxious was I
to again meet my host of Stretton Street face to face.

Not long did I have to wait before the door opened, and he stood
before me.

"Well, Mr. Garfield?" he asked quietly, as he advanced. "To what do I
owe the honour of this visit?"

"Ah!" I cried. "Then you recollect me, I see! You know my name?"

"Yes. It was upon your card," was his quiet reply. "But, forgive me, I
do not recollect ever having met you before!"

I held my breath. I tried to speak, but for the moment words failed
me, so angry was I at his cleverly pretended ignorance and flat
denial.

CHAPTER THE FOURTH

FACING THE MUSIC

"Do you seriously mean to say that you have no knowledge of me?" I
demanded angrily, looking the millionaire straight in the face.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "I seriously mean what I say. But, tell me,"
he demanded resentfully, "why are you here to claim acquaintance with
me?"

"Do you really deny you have ever seen me before?" I asked, astounded
at his barefaced pretence of ignorance.

"Never to my knowledge," replied the sallow-faced man whose
countenance I so well recollected.

"Then you forget a certain night not so long ago when I was called
into your house in Stretton Street, and you chatted confidentially
with me--about your wife and your little son?"

"My dear sir!" he cried. "Whatever do you mean? I have never seen you
at Stretton Street; and I have certainly never discussed my wife with
you!"

I stood aghast at his continued denial.

"But you _did_," I asserted. "And there was another matter--a matter
about which I must question you--the----"

"Ah! I see!" he interrupted. "You're here to blackmail me--eh?
Well--let me hear the worst," and across his rather Oriental face
there spread a mocking, half amused smile.

"I am not a blackmailer!" I protested angrily. "I want no money--only
to know the truth."

"Of what?"

"Well, the truth concerning the death of Miss Gabrielle Engledue."

"The death of Miss Gabrielle Engledue!" he cried. "I really don't
understand you, Mr.--Mr. Garfield!"

At mention of the name I saw that he started, but almost
imperceptibly. The man was certainly a most perfect actor, and his
protestations of ignorance were, indeed, well-feigned.

"Then you actually deny all knowledge of the young lady!" I said.

"I know no lady of that name."

"But she is your niece."

"I