. I shall rise now."

Mr. Sabin made his toilet with something of the same deliberation which
characterised all his movements. Then he descended into the hall, bought
a newspaper, and from a convenient easy-chair kept a close observation
upon every one who passed to and fro for about an hour. Later on he
ordered a carriage, and made several calls down town.

At a few minutes past twelve he entered the bar of the Fifth Avenue
Hotel, and ordering a drink sat down at one of the small tables. The
room was full, but Mr. Sabin's attention was directed solely to one
group of men who stood a short distance away before the counter drinking
champagne. The central person of the group was a big man, with an
unusually large neck, a fat pale face, a brown moustache tinged with
grey, and a voice and laugh like a fog-horn. It was he apparently who
was paying for the champagne, and he was clearly on intimate terms with
all the party. Mr. Sabin watched for his opportunity, and then rising
from his seat touched him on the shoulder.

"Mr. Skinner, I believe?" he said quietly.

The big man looked down upon Mr. Sabin with the sullen offensiveness of
the professional bully.

"You've hit it first time," he admitted. "Who are you, anyway?"

Mr. Sabin produced a card.

"I called this morning," he said, "upon the gentleman whose name you
will see there. He directed me to you, and told me to come here."

The man tore the card into small pieces.

"So long, boys," he said, addressing his late companions. "See you
to-night."

They accepted his departure in silence, and one and all favoured Mr.
Sabin with a stare of blatant curiosity.

"I should be glad to speak with you," Mr. Sabin said, "in a place where
we are likely to be neither disturbed nor overheard."

"You come right across to my office," was the prompt reply. "I guess we
can fix it up there."

Mr. Sabin motioned to his coachman, and they crossed Broadway. His
companion led him into a tall building, talking noisily all the time
about the pals whom he had just left. An elevator transported them to
the twelfth floor in little more than as many seconds, and Mr. Skinner
ushered his visitor into a somewhat bare-looking office, smelling
strongly of stale tobacco smoke. Mr. Skinner at once lit a cigar, and
seating himself before his desk, folded his arms and leaned over towards
Mr. Sabin.

"Smoke one?" he asked, pointing to the open box.

Mr. Sabin declined.

"Get right ahead th