has really
happened. Help me in one small way, Senator. Telephone Mr. Jacob and
explain why our luncheon is postponed."

"Yes, I'll do that."

Meiklejohn smiled grimly as he hung up the receiver. In the midst of
her tribulations Helen Tower had not forgotten Jacob and the little
business of the Costa Rica Cotton Concession! The luncheon was only
"postponed."

An inquiry came from a newspaper, whereupon he gave a curt order that no
more calls were to be made that day, as the apartment would be empty. He
dressed, and devoted himself forthwith to the task of overhauling
papers. He had a fire kindled in the library.

Hour after hour he worked, until the grate was littered with the ashes
of destroyed documents. Sending for newspapers, he read of Rachel
Craik's arrest. At last, when the light waned, he looked at his watch.
Should he not face his fellow-members at the Four Hundred Club? Would it
not betray weakness to shirk the ordeal of inquiry, of friendly scrutiny
and half-spoken wonder that he, the irreproachable, should be mixed up
in such a weird tragedy. Once he sought support from a decanter of
brandy.

"Confound it!" he muttered, "why am I so shaky. _I_ didn't murder Tower.
My whole life may be ruined by one false step!"

He was still pondering irresolutely a visit to the club when Phillips
came. The valet seemed flurried.

"There's a gentleman outside, sir, who insists on seeing you," he said
nervously. "He's a very violent gentleman, sir. He said if I didn't
announce him he----"

"What name?" interrupted Meiklejohn.

"Name of Voles, sir."

"Voles?"

"Yes, sir, but he says you'll recognize him better by the initials R. V.
V."

Men of Meiklejohn's physique--big, fleshy, with the stamp of success on
them--are rare subjects for nervous attacks. They seem to defy events
which will shock the color out of ordinary men's cheeks, yet Meiklejohn
felt that if he dared encounter the eyes of his discreet servant he
would do something outrageous--shriek, or jump, or tear his hair. He
bent over some papers on the table.

"Send Mr. Voles in," he murmured. "If any other person calls, say I'm
engaged."

The man who was ushered into the room was of a stature and demeanor
which might well have cowed the valet. Tall, strongly built, altogether
fitter and more muscular than the stalwart Senator, he carried with him
an impression of truculence, of a savage forcefulness, not often clothed
in the staid garments of city