nstructed private house, a man who had
the air of performing a feat, showed her into a room that was summarily,
but not spartanly, furnished. On one side was a bookcase supported by
caryatides. Above, hung a stretch of silk on which was a flight of
dragons. Above the silk was an ivory mask. Fronting the bookcase was the
biggest table that Cassy had ever seen.

Jones, vacating the table, advanced to greet her. Perched on his
shoulder, was a cat that peered at her. It had long hair, the colour of
smoke; a bushy tail; the eyes of an angel and a ferocious moustache.

Although Cassy had other matters in hand, she exclaimed at it. "What a
duck!"

Jones, who saw, and at once, that she had not come to ask the time of
day, exclaimed also: "Yes, but ducky is as ducky does. That cat talks in
her sleep."

But now Lennox, advancing too, had taken her hand.

Withdrawing it, she put the bundle on the table, on which were papers,
and, noticeably, a dagger, brilliant, wicked, thin as a shadow. On the
blade was a promise--Penetrabo.

She looked up. Jones and the cat had gone. She looked at Lennox. "I
don't know where to begin."

Lennox could not tell her. On learning that she wanted to see him, he
had supposed it was about her father and he had said as much to Jones.
But in greeting her, the novelist knew from her vibrations that whatever
her object might be, at least it was not ordinary. Then, taking the cat,
he had gone.

Now, though, Cassy was at it. "The day you loaned me a hundred, you
remember? As I went out I had the money in my hand. In the hall was Miss
Austen. You had just shown me her picture. I recognised her at once.
With her was a woman, thin-faced, thin-lipped, thin-minded. She saw me,
saw the money, gave me a look. I did not forget it. But it is only
to-day that I learned what it meant. It meant that I am no better than I
ought to be--or you either."

Lennox had one hand on the table. He raised the other. "Who told you
this?"

"Paliser. He said it was the reason your engagement was broken."

In the palm of the upraised hand, the fingers moved forward and back,
regularly, methodically, mechanically. Lennox was unaware of it. He was
unaware of anything except the monstrous perversity of the tale.

"I came directly from him to your rooms. Your man said you were going
away. Thank goodness, I am not too late."

Cassy had seated herself, but now, reaching for the bundle, she stood
up. Across the street, in the