you tell me to-night," I asked.

"Not until I know something of what my own movements are to be," he
replied. "I cannot know before to-morrow," he replied with a mysterious
air. "So if you wish to be forewarned of an impending peril, come and see
me and I will then explain. We shall, no doubt, be on closer terms
to-morrow. _Au revoir_," and he took my hand warmly and then let me out.

The rather narrow, ill-lit staircase, the outer door of which had been
shut for hours, was close and stuffy, but as I descended the second
flight and was about to pass along the hall to the door, I distinctly
heard a movement in the shadow where, on my left, the hall continued
along to the door of the ground-floor flat.

I peered over the banisters, but in the darkness could distinguish
nothing.

That somebody was lurking there I instantly felt assured, and next
moment the truth became revealed by two facts.

The first was a light, almost imperceptible noise, the jingle of a
woman's bangles, and, secondly, the faint odour of some subtle perfume, a
sweet, intoxicating scent such as my nostrils had never greeted before.

For the moment I felt surprise, but as the hidden lady was apparently
standing outside the ground-floor flat--perhaps awaiting admittance--I
felt it to be no concern of mine, and proceeding, opened the outer door
and passed outside, closing it quietly after me.

An unusually sweet perfume one can seldom forget. Even out in the keen
night air that delightful odour seemed to cling to my memory--the latest
creation of the Rue de la Paix, I supposed.

Well, I duly returned home to Albemarle Street once again, utterly
mystified.

What did it all mean? Why had Digby adopted such a marvellous disguise?
What did he mean by saying that he wished to stand my friend and
safeguard me from impending evil?

Yes, it was all a mystery--but surely not so great a mystery as that
which was to follow. Ah! had I but suspected the astounding truth how
very differently would I have acted!

Filled with curiosity regarding Digby's strange forebodings, I alighted
from a taxi in Harrington Gardens at a quarter to eleven that same
morning, but on entering found the uniformed hall-porter in a great state
of excitement and alarm.

"Oh, sir!" he cried breathlessly, advancing towards me. "You're a friend
of Sir Digby's sir. The police are upstairs. Something extraordinary has
happened."

"The police!" I gasped. "Why, what's happened?"

"W