n of a wedding
bouquet!" he said, as he went back into the room and sat down to figure
the puzzle out. "Only one creature in the world knows of my feelings in
that direction, and only one creature in the world would be capable of
that threat--Margot! But what interest could she or any of her tribe
have in the death of Lady Chepstow's little son? Her game is always
money. If she were after a ransom she would try to abduct the child, not
to kill him, and if----" A sudden thought came and wrenched away his
voice. He sat a moment twisting his fingers one through the other and
frowning at the floor; then, of a sudden, he gave a cry and jumped to
his feet. "Five lacs of rupees--a fortune! By George, I've got it!" he
fairly shouted. "The wild guess was a correct one, I'll stake my life
upon it. Now, then, to put it to the test."

II

The summer twilight was deepening into the summer dusk when Ailsa,
acting upon Cleek's advice, set forth with little Lord Chepstow the
following evening, and turned her steps in the direction of the Park.
Although, on her way there, she observed more than once that a
swarthy-skinned man in European dress, who wore a scarlet flower in his
coat, and was so perfect a type of the Asiatic that he would have passed
muster for one even among a gathering of Cingalese, kept appearing and
disappearing at irregular intervals, it spoke well for the powers of
imitation and self-effacement possessed by Dollops that she never once
thought of associating that young man with the dawdling messenger boy
who strolled leisurely along with a package under his arm and patronized
every bun-shop, winkle stall, and pork-pie purveyor on the line of
march.

For upward of an hour this sort of thing went on without any
interruption and Ailsa strolled along leisurely, with the boy's hand in
hers, his innocent prattle running on ceaselessly; then, of a sudden,
whilst they were moving along close to the Park railings and in the
shadow of the overhanging trees, the figure of an undersized man in
semi-European costume, but wearing on his head the twisted turban of a
Cingalese, issued from one of the gates and well-nigh collided with
them.

He drew back, murmuring an apology in pidgin-English, then, seeing the
child, he salaamed profoundly and murmured in a voice of deep reverence,
"Holy, most holy!" and prostrated himself, with his forehead touching
the ground, until Ailsa and the child had passed on. But barely had
they ta