bearing the name of Kazmah he halted,
and as the door did not open, stamped impatiently, but with no better
result.

At that, since there was neither bell nor knocker, he raised his fist
and banged loudly.

No one responded to the summons.

"Hi, there!" he shouted. "Open the door! Pyne! Rita!"

Again he banged--and yet again. Then he paused, listening, his ear
pressed to the panel.

He could detect no sound of movement within. Fists clenched, he stood
staring at the closed door, and his fresh color slowly deserted him and
left him pale.

"Damn him!" he muttered savagely. "Damn him! he has fooled me!"

Passionate and self-willed, he was shaken by a storm of murderous anger.
That Pyne had planned this trick, with Rita Irvin's consent, he did not
doubt, and his passive dislike of the man became active hatred of the
woman he dared not think. He had for long looked upon Sir Lucien in
the light of a rival, and the irregularity of his own infatuation for
another's wife in no degree lessened his resentment.

Again he pressed his ear to the door, and listened intently. Perhaps
they were hiding within. Perhaps this charlatan, Kazmah, was an
accomplice in the pay of Sir Lucien. Perhaps this was a secret place of
rendezvous.

To the manifest absurdity of such a conjecture he was blind in his
anger. But that he was helpless, befooled, he recognized; and with a
final muttered imprecation he turned and slowly descended the stair.
A lingering hope was dispelled when, looking right and left along Bond
Street, he failed to perceive the missing pair.

The cabman glanced at him interrogatively. "I shall not require you,"
said Gray, and gave the man half-a-crown.

Busy with his poisonous conjectures, he remained all unaware of the
presence of a furtive, stooping figure which lurked behind the railings
of the arcade at this point linking old Bond Street to Albemarle Street.
Nor had the stooping stranger any wish to attract Gray's attention.
Most of the shops in the narrow lane were already closed, although the
florist's at the corner remained open, but of the shadow which lay along
the greater part of the arcade this alert watcher took every advantage.
From the recess formed by a shop door he peered out at Gray, where the
light of a street lamp fell upon him, studying his face, his movements,
with unrelaxing vigilance.

Gray, following some moments of indecision, strode off towards
Piccadilly. The little man came out cautiou