door and departed upstairs.

A moment later Micky heard Ashton's voice.

"You old night-bird! What an ungodly hour to call on any one! I was
just going to bed; come in."

He spoke easily, but there was a slightly anxious look in his eyes; he
led the way into the library.

The fire was nearly out there and the room felt chilly; he shivered,
and, stooping, tried to rake the cinders into a blaze.

Micky watched him silently; after a moment Ashton turned.

"Lord, man! what's the matter? You look as cheerful as Doomsday."

Micky was standing stiffly against the table.

"I saw you in the theatre to-night," he began without preamble. "I was
with Miss Shepstone, and she saw you, too--at least she believes it
was you, and I am going to tell her that she was mistaken. How soon
can you get out of town and back to Paris?"

Ashton stared; the colour had rushed to his face; after a moment his
eyes fell.

"I don't know what the devil you're driving at," he said irritably. "I
suppose I can come to London without asking you first, can't I? And,
as for Lallie"--he grinned nervously--"well, you know as well as I do
that that's all been off for weeks."

Micky stood immovable.

"You haven't answered my question," he said flintily. "How soon can
you get out of London?"

Ashton swore under his breath.

"I'm dashed if I know what you're driving at," he said sulkily. "If
you like to take Lallie to theatres, that's your business; she's a
nice little girl, I admit, but----"

Micky took a step forward.

"If you want to make me forget that this is your mother's house,
you're going the right way to do it," he said between his teeth. "And
I don't want any of your bluff. Miss Shepstone thinks she saw you at
the Comedy to-night; she'll probably write to you or try to see you in
the morning, and you've got to be out of London by then--do you
hear?"

Ashton laughed; he shrugged his shoulders.

"Must?" he said nastily. "How long have you been Lallie's champion?...
Oh, all right, all right," he broke off hurriedly, as he saw the ugly
light in Micky's eyes. "But it's a bit thick, you know," he resumed
injuredly. "I've done with her; you know that. You sent my letter on
to her yourself. It's absurd if I can't come back home for a few days
in case she should see me and get upset. I'm sorry if she's still fond
of me, but, dash it all----"

"You haven't answered my question," said Micky again.

He was controlling himself with a might