r's bill!"

"No," he said. "He's watching with some evil intent, I'm certain. I
expect he's somewhere near, even now," he added.

"Why!" I laughed. "You seem quite nervy over it! Next time you see him,
go up to the Johnnie and ask him what the dickens he wants."

Then, half an hour later, I put on my hat and coat, and together we took
a taxi past Kensington Church and Olympia, to Hammersmith Bridge, over
which we turned off to the right in Castelnau, into a long ill-lit
thoroughfare, running parallel with the river. Bare trees lined the
road, and each house was a good-sized one, standing in its own grounds.

Before one of these, hidden from the road by a high wall, and standing
back a good distance from the road, the cab pulled up, and, alighting,
we opened the gate, and passing up a well-kept drive pulled the bell.

Our summons was answered by a thin, rather consumptive-looking German
man-servant, who took our coats and ceremoniously ushered us into a big
well-furnished drawing-room, where Griesbach and his two friends were
already assembled awaiting us. All were smoking cigarettes, which showed
that no ladies were to be present.

The instant Ray entered the room I saw that he gave a start, and a few
moments later he seized an opportunity to whisper to me that the man who
had so persistently followed him on the previous day was none other than
our host Griesbach.

"Don't worry over it, my dear old fellow," I urged. "What motive would
he have? He didn't even know you!"

And then the gossip became merry in that room so seasonably decorated
with holly, while Griesbach assured us of his delight in having us as
his guests.

Dinner was served in the adjoining room, and a most excellent and
thoroughly English repast it was. Our host had been long enough in
England, he told us, to appreciate English fare, hence we had part of a
baron of beef with Christmas pudding afterwards, and excellent old port
and nuts to follow.

Two young Germans waited at table, and the party was as merry a one as
any of us could wish. Only Ray seemed serious and preoccupied. He was
suspicious I knew--but of what?

I now openly confess that I pretended a gaiety which I certainly did not
feel, for after Raymond had told me that he had recognised Griesbach, a
very strange thought had occurred to me. It was this. As we had entered
the garden to approach the house, I felt certain that I had caught sight
of the figure of a man crouching against