ement he had rather than miss it.

"You are very kind," he murmured.

"Are we fortunate enough to find you disengaged," Hilditch suggested,
"to-morrow evening?"

"I am quite free," was the ready response.

"That suits you, Margaret?" Hilditch asked, turning courteously to his
wife.

For a single moment her eyes were fixed upon those of her prospective
guest. He read their message which pleaded for his refusal, and he
denied it.

"To-morrow evening will suit me as well as any other," she acquiesced,
after a brief pause.

"At eight o'clock, then--number 10 b, Hill Street," Hilditch concluded.

Francis bowed and turned away with a murmured word of polite assent.
Outside, he found Wilmore deep in the discussion of the merits of
various old brandies with an interested maitre d'hotel.

"Any choice, Francis?" his host enquired.

"None whatever," was the prompt reply, "only, for God's sake, give me a
double one quickly!"

The two men were on the point of departure when Oliver Hilditch and his
wife left the restaurant. As though conscious that they had become
the subject of discussion, as indeed was the case, thanks to the busy
whispering of the various waiters, they passed without lingering through
the lounge into the entrance hall, where Francis and Andrew Wilmore were
already waiting for a taxicab. Almost as they appeared, a new arrival
was ushered through the main entrance, followed by porters carrying
luggage. He brushed past Francis so closely that the latter looked into
his face, half attracted and half repelled by the waxen-like complexion,
the piercing eyes, and the dignified carriage of the man whose arrival
seemed to be creating some stir in the hotel. A reception clerk and a
deputy manager had already hastened forward. The newcomer waved them
back for a moment. Bareheaded, he had taken Margaret Hilditch's hands in
his and raised them to his lips.

"I came as quickly as I could," he said. "There was the usual delay, of
course, at Marseilles, and the trains on were terrible. So all has ended
well."

Oliver Hilditch, standing by, remained speechless. It seemed for a
moment as though his self-control were subjected to a severe strain.

"I had the good fortune," he interposed, in a low tone, "to be
wonderfully defended. Mr. Ledsam here--"

He glanced around. Francis, with some idea of what was coming, obeyed an
imaginary summons from the head-porter, touched Andrew Wilmore upon
the shoulder, and hasten