m to return thither from London, and had gone to meet him with the
intention of coming to some arrangement as to the disposal of the vast
sum of money now in Turner's hands awaiting further developments, or
some hitch had occurred with respect to John Turner himself.

Dormer Colville returned, thoughtfully, to his lodging, and in the
evening set out for Paris.

He himself had not seen Turner since that morning in the banker's office
in the Rue Lafayette, when they had parted so unceremoniously, in a
somewhat heated spirit. But, on reflection, Colville, who had sought to
reassure himself with regard to one whose name stood for the incarnation
of gastronomy and mental density in the Anglo-French clubs of Paris,
had come to the conclusion that nothing was to be gained by forcing
a quarrel upon Turner. It was impossible to bring home to him an
accusation of complicity in an outrage which had been carried through
with remarkable skill. And when it is impossible to force home an
accusation, a wise man will hold his tongue.

Colville could not prove that Turner had known Barebone to be in the
carriage waiting in the courtyard, and his own action in the matter
had been limited to the interposition of his own clumsy person between
Colville and the window; which might, after all, have been due to
stupidity. This, as a matter of fact, was Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence's
theory on the subject. For that lady, resting cheerfully on the firm
basis of a self-confidence which the possession of money nearly always
confers on women, had laughed at Turner all her life, and now proposed
to continue that course of treatment.

"Take my word," she had assured Colville, "he was only acting in his
usual dense way, and probably thinks now that you are subject to brief
fits of mental aberration. I am not afraid of him or anything that he
can do. Leave him to me, and devote all your attention to finding Loo
Barebone again."

Upon which advice Colville had been content to act. He had a faith in
Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence's wit which was almost as great as her own; and
thought, perhaps rightly enough, that if any one were a match for John
Turner it was his sprightly and capable client. For there are two ways
of getting on in this world: one is to get credit for being cleverer
than you are, and the other to be cleverer than your neighbour suspects.
But the latter plan is seldom followed, for the satisfaction it provides
must necessarily be shared with n