had lost
some of its grimness. Once more his features wore that look of pleasant
and genial good-fellowship which seems characteristic of his race after
business hours.

"Say, Mr. Coulson," he declared, as they passed across the hall, "you
and I must have a night together. This isn't New York, by any manner of
means, or Paris, but there's some fun to be had here, in a quiet way.
I'll phone you tomorrow or the day after."

"Sure!" Mr. Coulson declared. "I'd like it above all things."

"I must find a taxicab," the young man remarked. "I've a busy hour
before me. I've got to go down and see the chief, who is dining
somewhere in Kensington, and get back again to dine here at half past
seven in the restaurant."

"I guess you'll have to look sharp, then." Mr. Coulson remarked. "Do you
see the time?"

Vanderpole glanced at the clock and whistled softly to himself.

"Tell you what!" he exclaimed, "I'll write a note to one of the friends
I've got to meet, and leave it here. Boy," he added, turning to a page
boy, "get me a taxi as quick as you can."

The boy ran out into the Strand, and Vanderpole, sitting down at the
table, wrote a few lines, which he sealed and addressed and handed to
one of the reception clerks. Then he shook hands with Coulson and threw
himself into a corner of the cab which was waiting.

"Drive down the Brompton Road," he said to the man. "I'll direct you
later."

It was a quarter past seven when he left the hotel. At half past a
policeman held up his hand and stopped the taxi, to the driver's
great astonishment, as he was driving slowly across Melbourne Square,
Kensington.

"What's the matter?" the man asked. "You can't say I was exceeding my
speed limit."

The policeman scarcely noticed him. His head was already through the cab
window.

"Where did you take your fare up?" he asked quickly.

"Savoy Hotel," the man answered. "What's wrong with him?"

The policeman opened the door of the cab and stepped in.

"Never you mind about that," he said. "Drive to the South Kensington
police station as quick as you can."

CHAPTER VIII. AN INTERRUPTED THEATRE PARTY

Seated upon a roomy lounge in the foyer of the Savoy were three
women who attracted more than an average amount of attention from the
passers-by. In the middle was the Duchess of Devenham, erect, stately,
and with a figure which was still irreproachable notwithstanding her
white hair. On one side sat her daughter, Lady Grace Redfor