her.

She was evidently puzzled, but she asked him no more questions. At
that moment Mrs. Weatherley rose from her place. As she passed
Arnold she paused for a moment.

"You are all coming in five minutes," she said. "Before we play
bridge, come straight to me. I have something to say to you."

He bowed and resumed his seat, from which he had risen quickly at
her coming. Mr. Weatherley motioned to him to move up to his side.
His face now was a little flushed, but his nervousness had not
disappeared. He was certainly not the same man whom one met at
Tooley Street.

"Glad to see you've made friends with the wife, Chetwode," he said.
"She seems to have taken quite a fancy to you."

"Mrs. Weatherley has been very kind," Arnold answered.

"Enjoying yourself, I hope?" Mr. Weatherley asked.

"Very much indeed," Arnold declared. "It has been quite a treat for
me."

Sabatini and Starling were talking earnestly together at the other
side of the table. Rosario, bringing his wine down, came and sat at
his host's other side.

"Beautiful vintage, this, Mr. Weatherley," he said. "Excellent
condition, too."

Mr. Weatherley, obviously pleased, pursued the subject. In a way, it
was almost pathetic to see his pleasure in being addressed by one of
his own guests. Arnold drew a little away and looked across the
banks of roses. There was something fascinating to him in the
unheard conversation of Sabatini and Starling, on the opposite side
of the table. Everything they said was in an undertone and the
inexpressive faces of the two men gave no indication as to the
nature of their conversation. Yet the sense of something mysterious
in this house and among these guests was growing all the time with
Arnold.

CHAPTER IV

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW

Mr. Weatherley laid his hand upon his young companion's arm as they
crossed the hall on their way from the dining-room.

"We are going to play bridge in the music-room," he announced.
"Things are different, nowadays, than when I was a boy. The men and
the women, too, have to smoke cigarettes all the time while they
play cards. A bad habit, Chetwode! A very bad habit indeed! I've
nothing to say against a good Havana cigar in the dining-room or the
smoking-room, but this constant cigarette smoking sickens me. I
can't bear the smell of the things. Here we are. I don't know what
table my wife has put you at, I'm sure. She arranges all these
things herself."

Several guests who ha