t and Burgundy, began to excuse himself for
his delay.

"I didn't like to say anything while your man was about--but the fact
is, I was sent for on a rather unusual matter--"

"Oh, it's all right," said Granice cheerfully. He was beginning to
feel the usual reaction that food and company produced. It was not any
recovered pleasure in life that he felt, but only a deeper withdrawal
into himself. It was easier to go on automatically with the social
gestures than to uncover to any human eye the abyss within him.

"My dear fellow, it's sacrilege to keep a dinner waiting--especially
the production of an artist like yours." Mr. Ascham sipped his Burgundy
luxuriously. "But the fact is, Mrs. Ashgrove sent for me."

Granice raised his head with a quick movement of surprise. For a moment
he was shaken out of his self-absorption.

"MRS. ASHGROVE?"

Ascham smiled. "I thought you'd be interested; I know your passion for
causes celebres. And this promises to be one. Of course it's out of our
line entirely--we never touch criminal cases. But she wanted to consult
me as a friend. Ashgrove was a distant connection of my wife's. And, by
Jove, it IS a queer case!" The servant re-entered, and Ascham snapped
his lips shut.

Would the gentlemen have their coffee in the dining-room?

"No--serve it in the library," said Granice, rising. He led the way back
to the curtained confidential room. He was really curious to hear what
Ascham had to tell him.

While the coffee and cigars were being served he fidgeted about the
library, glancing at his letters--the usual meaningless notes and
bills--and picking up the evening paper. As he unfolded it a headline
caught his eye.

"ROSE MELROSE WANTS TO
PLAY POETRY.
"THINKS SHE HAS FOUND HER
POET."

He read on with a thumping heart--found the name of a young author he
had barely heard of, saw the title of a play, a "poetic drama," dance
before his eyes, and dropped the paper, sick, disgusted. It was
true, then--she WAS "game"--it was not the manner but the matter she
mistrusted!

Granice turned to the servant, who seemed to be purposely lingering. "I
shan't need you this evening, Flint. I'll lock up myself."

He fancied the man's acquiescence implied surprise. What was going on,
Flint seemed to wonder, that Mr. Granice should want him out of the
way? Probably he would find a pretext for