ips were parted; while the grime of a London
fog had left its black marks round his mouth and eyes, giving him an
appearance altogether diabolical. He was shaking like a leaf as he
stumbled against a chair and suddenly wheeled round to the light.

Then, unbuttoning his overcoat quickly, he looked down at his clothes
underneath. He passed his hand over them and held it in the light, with
a shudder.

Max uttered a sharp cry.

The stain on Dudley's hand, the wet patches which glistened on his dark
clothes, were stains of blood.

CHAPTER III.

DUDLEY EXPLAINS.

As the cry of horror escaped the lips of Max, Dudley wheeled quickly
round and met his eyes.

For a moment the two men stood staring at each other without uttering a
word. It seemed to Max that his friend did not recognize him; that he
looked like a hunted man brought to bay by his pursuer, with the furtive
expression in his eyes of a creature trying to devise some means of
escape.

It was the most shocking experience that Max had ever known, and the
blood seemed to freeze in his veins as he stood by the table watching
his friend, trying to conjure back a smile to his own face and look of
welcome into his own eyes.

He found his voice at last.

"Why, Horne," cried he, and he was angry with himself as he noted that
his voice was hoarse and tremulous, and that he could not manage to
bring out his natural tones, "what have you been doing with yourself?
I--I've been backward and forward here all day long, and now I've been
waiting for you ever so long!"

There was a pause. Dudley was still staring at him, but there was
gradually coming over his face a change which showed recognition,
followed by annoyance. He drew himself up, and, after a pause, asked,
stiffly:

"What did you want with me?"

He spoke more naturally than Max had managed to do, and as the latter
replied, he took out his pocket-handkerchief very calmly and began to
wipe the stain off his right hand.

Max shuddered.

"Why, is it such a very unusual thing for me to drop in upon you and to
want to see you?" he asked, with another attempt at his ordinary manner,
which failed almost as completely as the first had done.

There was another short pause. Dudley, without looking again at his
friend, examined his hand, saw that it was now clean, and replaced the
soiled handkerchief in his pocket. He seemed by this time to be
thoroughly at his ease, but Max was not deceived.

"Of course