h distinguished the residents of the
superior neighbourhood, and parasitical house agents spoke of it with
great respect because one end opened into the rarefied atmosphere of the
Square. It was true that the other end was close to a slum, and there
was a mews across the way, but these were small drawbacks compared to
the social advantages.

Sherryman Street was full of gaunt, narrow houses, with prim fronts and
narrow railed windows, let in segments, flats, and bachelor apartments.
Number 10 was as like its fellows as one drab soul resembles another.
Superintendent Merrington's ring at the doorbell brought forth an
elderly woman with an expressionless face surmounted by a frilled white
cap. She informed them in an expressionless voice that Captain Nepcote's
apartments were on the second floor. Having said this much, she
disappeared into a small lobby room off the entrance hall, leaving them
free to enter.

A knock at the entrance door of the second-floor flat brought forth a
manservant whose smart bearing and precision of manner suggested
military training. He cautiously informed Superintendent Merrington, in
reply to his question, that he was not sure if Captain Nepcote was at
home, but he would go and see.

"Who shall I say, sir?" he asked, in unconscious contradiction of his
statement.

Merrington stopped further parleying by impatiently pushing past the
servant into the room.

"Go and tell your master I want to see him," he said, seating himself.

The servant looked angrily at the burly figure on the slender chair, and
then, as though realizing his inability to eject him, he left the room
without further speech.

The room they had entered was furnished in a style which suggested that
its occupier had sufficient means or credit to gratify his tastes, which
obviously soared no higher than racehorses and chorus girls. Pictures of
the former adorned the wall in oak; the latter smirked at the beholder
from silver frames on small tables. The room was handsomely furnished in
a masculine way, although there was the suggestion of a feminine touch
in the vases on the mantelpiece and some clusters of flowers in a bowl.

The door opened to admit a young man, who advanced towards his visitors
with a questioning glance. His appearance, though military, was far from
suggesting the sordid warfare of the trenches. He was well-groomed and
handsome, and wore his spotless uniform with that touch of distinction
which khaki le