nts for his herbarium. As Guest mused over the
matter, he recollected that Stratton said something about the south; but
whether it was south of England, France, or Italy, he could not
remember.

"Might be the South Pole," he muttered pettishly. "Fancy that old chap
having nothing better to do with his money than spend it over weeds!"

"Now, if I had half," he said, after refilling his pipe, "I could go to
the old admiral and say--Oh, what a fool I am!"

But somehow that idea about Brettison and his money seemed to pervade
his brain for the next few days, and to be mixed up with Stratton and
his troubles. He recollected the money lying in crisp banknotes upon
the table, and recalled that it was a heavy sum. That was an entirely
fresh view to take; could Stratton have borrowed that money from
Brettison? Likely enough, and that might have caused the estrangement.
People did not like lending money. They would offer to do so, but when
the demand was made they were a little bitter.

"`Neither a borrower nor a lender be,'" muttered Guest, quoting from his
favourite author, and then adding, "if you can help it."

"Bah! That upsets the idea of the lady in the case," he muttered
impatiently. "What a fool I am! As if it was likely that poor old Mal
would try to make his quietus with a bare bodkin--modernised into a
six-shooter--because old Brettison was huffed at his borrowing money. I
must pump it out of the poor fellow somehow."

That evening he went to Stratton's chambers, but could get no reply; and
he waited about on the stairs till, growing uneasy and suspicious once
more, he knocked again, and listened at the letter slit.

Just then he heard steps, and the occupant of the upstairs chambers
ascended to the landing.

"How do?" he said. "Mr Stratton's out. I met him on the Embankment
not half an hour ago."

That swept away the black, mental cobwebs once more for a time about
Guest's brain, and he went away relieved--but not before writing his
intention of dropping in about ten that night, and thrusting his card in
at the slit--to dine at his club, after which he went into the library
to read up some old legal cases, and think about Edie.

He was punctual to the time appointed in Benchers' Inn, but there was no
light in Stratton's window, none in Brettison's, and he waited till
eleven in the expectation of seeing his friend come back.

At the above hour he became convinced that Stratton had returned earl