h American
friend--one of his partners, I believe," Margaret replied. "I expect he
is looking for him."

Sir Timothy caught sight of them, hesitated for a moment and came slowly
in their direction.

"Have you found your friend?" Margaret asked.

"The poor fellow is ill in bed," her father answered. "I was just
regretting that I had sent the car away, or I should have gone back to
Hatch End."

"Stay and lunch with us," Lady Cynthia begged, a little impetuously.

"I shall be very pleased if you will," Francis put in. "I'll go and tell
the waiter to enlarge my table."

He hurried off. On his way back, a page-boy touched him on the arm.

"If you please, sir," he announced, "you are wanted on the telephone."

"I?" Francis exclaimed. "Some mistake, I should think. Nobody knows that
I am here."

"Mr. Ledsam," the boy said. "This way, sir."

Francis walked down the vestibule to the row of telephone boxes at the
further end. The attendant who was standing outside, indicated one of
them and motioned the boy to go away. Francis stepped inside. The man
followed, closing the door behind him.

"I am asking your pardon, sir, for taking a great liberty," he
confessed. "No one wants you on the telephone. I wished to speak to
you."

Francis looked at him in surprise. The man was evidently agitated.
Somehow or other, his face was vaguely familiar.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" Francis asked.

"I was butler to Mr. Hilditch, sir," the man replied. "I waited upon you
the night you dined there, sir--the night of Mr. Hilditch's death."

"Well?"

"I have a revelation to make with regard to that night, sir," the man
went on, "which I should like to place in your hands. It is a very
serious matter, and there are reasons why something must be done about
it at once. Can I come and see you at your rooms, sir?"

Francis studied the man for a moment intently. He was evidently
agitated--evidently, too, in very bad health. His furtive manner was
against him. On the other hand, that might have arisen from nervousness.

"I shall be in at half-past three, number 13 b, Clarges Street," Francis
told him.

"I can get off for half-an-hour then, sir," the man replied. "I shall be
very glad to come. I must apologise for having troubled you, sir."

Francis went slowly back to his trio of guests. All the way down the
carpeted vestibule he was haunted by the grim shadow of a spectral fear.
The frozen horror of that ghastly