on?"

Medenham moved as if to summon the hall-porter. In a very frenzy of
fear Devar caught his arm.

"For Gawd's sake----" he whispered.

"You go, then?"

"Yes."

"I am prepared to spare you to the utmost extent. Tell the hall-porter
to bring your overcoat and hat, and to give you a sheet of note-paper
and an envelope. Show me what you write. If it is satisfactory I shall
start you with twenty pounds. You can send from London to-morrow for
your belongings, as your hotel bill will be paid. But remember! One
treacherous word from you and I telegraph to Scotland Yard."

Mrs. Devar had a bad quarter of an hour when a penciled note from her
son was delivered at her room and she read:

DEAR MATER--I hardly had time to tell you that I am obliged
to return to town this evening. Please make my apologies to
Miss Vanrenen and Count Marigny.
Yours ever,
J.

Medenham frowned a little at the reference to Cynthia, but something
of the sort was necessary if an open scandal was to be avoided. As for
"Dear Mater," she was so unnerved that she actually wept. Hard and
calculating though she might be, the man was her son, and the bitter
experiences of twenty years warned her that he had been driven from
Bristol by some ghost new risen from an evil past.

Medenham, however, believed that he had settled one difficulty, and
prepared blithely to tackle another. He ran the car to the garage
where he had arranged to meet Dale.

"Have you seen Simmonds?" was his first question.

"Yes, my l----, yes, sir."

"Where is he?"

"Just off for a snack, sir, before goin' to the hotel."

"Bring him here at once. We will attend to the snack afterwards. No
mistake, now, Dale. He must see no one in the hotel until he and I
have had a talk."

Simmonds was produced. He saluted.

"Glad to meet you again, my lord," he said. "I hope I haven't caused
any trouble by sending that telegram to Bournemouth, but Dale tells me
that you don't wish your title to be known."

"Forget it," said Medenham. "I have done you a good turn,
Simmonds--are you prepared to do me one?"

"Just try me, sir."

"Put your car out of commission. Stick a pin through the earth contact
of your magneto and jam it against a cylinder, or something of the
sort. Then go to Miss Vanrenen and tell her how sorry you are, but you
must have another week at least to pull things straight. She will not
be vexed, and I guar