. Never once had he spoken
depreciatingly of Frank.

She wondered what business brought Jasper to such an unsavory
neighborhood as that in which she had seen him. She had all a woman's
curiosity without a woman's suspicions, and, strangely enough, she did
not associate his presence in this terrible neighborhood or his
mysterious comings and goings with anything discreditable to himself.
She thought it was a little eccentric in him, and wondered whether he,
too, was running a "little mission" of his own, but dismissed that idea
since she had received no confirmation of the theory from the people
with whom she came into contact in that neighborhood.

She was halfway through her breakfast when the telephone bell rang, and
she rose from the table and crossed to the wall. At the first word from
the caller she recognized him.

"Why, uncle!" she said. "Whatever are you doing in town?"

The voice of John Minute bellowed through the receiver:

"I've an important engagement. Will you lunch with me at one-thirty at
the Savoy?"

He scarcely waited for her to accept the invitation before he hung up
his receiver.

The commissioner of police replaced the book which he had taken from the
shelf at the side of his desk, swung round in his chair, and smiled
quizzically at the perturbed and irascible visitor.

The man who sat at the other side of the desk might have been
fifty-five. He was of middle height, and was dressed in a somewhat
violent check suit, the fit of which advertised the skill of the great
tailor who had ably fashioned so fine a creation from so unlovely a
pattern.

He wore a low collar which would have displayed a massive neck but for
the fact that a glaring purple cravat and a diamond as big as a hazelnut
directed the observer's attention elsewhere. The face was an unusual
one. Strong to a point of coarseness, the bulbous nose, the thick,
irregular lips, the massive chin all spoke of the hard life which John
Minute had spent. His eyes were blue and cold, his hair a thick and
unruly mop of gray. At a distance he conveyed a curious illusion of
refinement. Nearer at hand, his pink face repelled one by its crudities.
He reminded the commissioner of a piece of scene painting that pleased
from the gallery and disappointed from the boxes.

"You see, Mr. Minute," said Sir George suavely, "we are rather limited
in our opportunities and in our powers. Personally, I should be most
happy to help you, not only because