ppressed by the wet and fog and dirt of November in
the North. I desired neither to write nor to read. My one overpowering
longing was to go to sleep until the war was over and then to awake in
a new world in which a decent civilised life would once more be
possible.

In this unhappy mood I was seated before my study fire when a servant
brought me a card. "A gentleman," said she, "wishes to see you. I said
that you were engaged, but he insisted. He's a terrible man, sir."

I looked at the card, annoyed at being disturbed; but at the sight of
it my torpor fell from me, for upon it was written the name of that
detective officer whom in my story I had called William Dawson, and in
the corner were the letters "C.I.D." (Criminal Investigation
Department). I had become a criminal, and was about to be
investigated!

CHAPTER II

AT CLOSE QUARTERS

Dawson entered, and we stood eyeing one another like two strange dogs.
Neither spoke for some seconds, and then, recollecting that I was a
host in the presence of a visitor, I extended a hand, offered a chair,
and snapped open a cigarette case. Dawson seated himself and took a
cigarette. I breathed more freely. He could not design my immediate
arrest, or he would not have accepted of even so slight a hospitality.
We sat upon opposite sides of the fire, Dawson saying nothing, but
watching me in that unwinking cat-like way of his which I find so
exasperating. Many times during my association with Dawson I have
longed to spring upon him and beat his head against the floor--just to
show that I am not a mouse. If his silence were intended to make me
uncomfortable, I would give him evidence of my perfect composure.

"How did you find me out?" I asked calmly.

His start of surprise gratified me, and I saw a puzzled look come into
his eyes. "Find out what?" he muttered.

"How did you find out that I wrote a story about you?"

"Oh, that?" He grinned. "That was not difficult, Mr.--er--Copplestone.
I asked Mr.--er--Richard Cary for your real name and address, and he
had to give them to me. I was considering whether I should prosecute
both him and you."

"No doubt you bullied Cary," I said, "but you don't alarm me in the
least. I had taken precautions, and you would have found your way
barred if you had tried to touch either of us."

"It is possible," snapped Dawson. "I should like to lock up all you
writing people--you are an infernal nuisance--but you seem to have a
pull