d dinner gong, and he walked swiftly to the glass to note the
effect of his borrowed plumes. They were certainly not a good fit, and
he passed his hand over the wrinkled breast; then--his fingers stopped
suddenly at the touch of something hard in the pocket. Slowly, his lips
drawn to a soundless whistle, he pulled out a round metal object and
looked at it with startled eyes, his thoughts in a sudden conflicting
whirl.

Last night, when he had found the golden capsule with the name of
Katharine upon it, and had given Mr. Narkom a brief history of the
famous _Huile Violette_ and the methods of the _grande dames_ of old, he
had declared that he knew of but one woman who ever had worn one of
those antique scent bracelets, and knew of _her_ wearing it simply
because he himself had stolen it from a famous collection and given it
to her. To-night that identical bracelet, with the scent globe and the
stopper cut from an emerald, was in his hand again! Margot's bracelet in
the pocket of Harry Raynor's coat! And only a moment or two ago he had
asked himself, "Which man?"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SPRINGING A SURPRISE

The circumstance was something of a shock to him. Up to this moment he
had looked upon young Raynor as being merely a selfish, irresponsible
wastrel, not as something vicious, something that had the courage or
even the power to bite or to sting. Now, however---- He turned the
bracelet over in his hand and examined it closely, to be certain before
he finally decided that it really was Margot's.

The act served merely to deepen suspicion into certainty. By a dozen
things he knew it for what he hoped it might not be. It was Margot's
bracelet, beyond all possible question it was! So, then, he had been a
fool for his pains, had he--a fool taken in and gulled by appearances,
eh? And the creature he had fancied a mere worm was, after all, a
serpent and--dangerous!

Margot's bracelet in the pocket of Harry Raynor's evening coat was
something rather more significant than Margot's picture and Margot's
letters in Harry Raynor's tobacco jar, for an evening coat consorted
well with an evening frock, and some woman who was not Ailsa Lorne, nor
yet Lady Katharine Fordham, had worn an evening frock at Gleer Cottage
last night.

Where was Harry Raynor last night? That, too, would want looking into in
the light of present events. And possessing two evening suits, which had
that interesting young gentleman worn yesterday? Th