."

"I thought you said just now this was not the weather for driving in
hansoms? I thought you said you had nothing to do, and that you were
going to employ yourself entertaining me? John Grantham Browne, I tell
you what it is, you're going in that hansom to a lunatic asylum."

"Better than that, my boy," said Browne, with a laugh, as the cab drew
up at the pavement and he sprang in. "Far better than that." Then,
looking up through the trap in the roof at the driver, he added
solemnly: "Cabby, drive me to 43, German Park Road, as fast as your
horse can go."

"But, hold on," said Foote, holding up his umbrella to detain him.
"Before you do go, what about to-morrow? What train shall we catch?
And have you sent the wire to your skipper to have the yacht in
readiness?"

"Bother to-morrow," answered Browne. "There is no to-morrow, there are
no trains, there is no skipper, and most certainly there is no yacht.
I've forgotten them and everything else. Drive on, cabby. Bye-bye,
Jimmy."

The cab disappeared in the fog, leaving Mr. Foote standing before the
portico of the Criterion looking after it.

"My friend Browne is either mad or in love," said that astonished
individual as the vehicle disappeared in the traffic. "I don't know
which to think. He's quite unnerved me. I think I'll go in here and
try a glass of dry sherry just to pull myself together. What an idiot
I was not to find out who painted that picture! But that's just like
me; I never think of things until too late."

When he had finished his sherry he lit a cigarette, and presently found
himself making his way towards his rooms in Jermyn Street. As he
walked he shook his head solemnly. "I don't like the look of things at
all," he said. "I said a lunatic asylum just now; I should have
mentioned a worse place--'St. George's, Hanover Square.' One thing,
however, is quite certain. If I know anything of signs, Algiers will
not have the pleasure of entertaining me."

CHAPTER IV

While Foote was cogitating in this way, Browne's cab was rolling along
westward. He passed Apsley House and the Park, and dodged his way in
and out of the traffic through Kensington Gore and the High Street. By
the time they reached the turning into the Melbury Road he was in the
highest state of good humour, not only with himself but the world in
general.

When, however, they had passed the cab-stand, and had turned into the
narrow street which was his dest