lips to speak, but thought better of it. He pointed instead towards
the table.

The usual pile of notes was there--all the latest novelties in fancy
stationery were represented there, crested, coroneted, scented. Macheson
began to tear them open and as rapidly destroy them with a little
gesture of disgust. They were mostly of the same type. The girls were
all so anxious to do a little good, so tired of the wearisome round of
Society, wouldn't Mr. Macheson be very kind and give them some personal
advice? Couldn't he meet them somewhere, or might they come and see him?
They did hope that he wouldn't think them bold! It would be such a help
to talk to him. The married ladies were bolder still. They felt the same
craving for advice, but their proposals were more definite. Mr. Macheson
must come and see them! They would be quite alone (underlined), there
should be no one else there to worry him. Then followed times and
addresses. One lady, whose coronet and motto were familiar to him, would
take no denial. He was to come that afternoon. Her carriage was waiting
at the side door and would bring him directly to her. Macheson looked up
quickly. Through the window he could see a small brougham, with cockaded
footman and coachman, waiting outside. He swept all the notes into the
flames.

"For Heaven's sake, go and send that carriage away, Drayton," he begged.

Drayton laughed and disappeared. On the table there remained one more
note--a square envelope, less conspicuous perhaps than the others, but
more distinguished-looking. Macheson broke the seal. On half a sheet of
paper were scrawled these few lines only.

"For Heaven's sake, come to me at once.--Wilhelmina."

He started and caught up his hat. In a few minutes he was on his way to
Berkeley Square.

CHAPTER XII

JEAN LE ROI

Over a marble-topped table in a retired corner of the cafe Stephen Hurd
listened to the story of the man whom Macheson had delivered over to
him, and the longer he listened the more interesting he found it. When
at last all was told, the table itself was strewn with cigarette stumps,
and their glasses had three times been replenished. The faces of both
men were flushed.

"You see," the little man said, glancing for a moment at his
yellow-stained fingers, and then beginning to puff furiously at a fresh
cigarette, "the time is of the shortest. Jean le Roi--well, his time is
up! He may be here to-morrow, the next day, who can tell? A