anks, Mrs. Walton."

"And what is your destination, sir?"

"I have my eye on a bench facing Green Park," he replied. "It is a
favourite locality for the impecunious philosopher. In other words I
don't know where I'm going but I have a pretty solid conviction that
one of these days I shall get there. There are two empty trunks in my
bedroom which I should be glad if you would accept."

Mrs. Walton shook her head.

"You could raise a bit of money on them," she suggested.

"Maybe," said Richard, "but I don't want to. There are only two kinds
of money that are any use. Regular money or lots of money--a little
money is no good to anyone and is better spent. By midnight tonight I
hope to find myself with none at all."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Walton.

"That," replied Richard, "is precisely what I am relying upon. And I
could not wish to start on my adventures under a happier ensign.
Goodbye."

And to the amazement of the lady he hissed her very soundly and
clattered down the stairs.

At the tobacconist he settled the last of his small accounts, purchased
a hundred cigarettes and hailed a taxi.

"The Berkeley Grill Room," he said.

They were a little surprised at the informality of his attire, but
there is something in the bearing of a restaurant habitue that would
procure him the best the establishment can afford even though he
appeared in a bathing suit.

"Stick me in a corner somewhere," he said, "I have no evening clothes."

"Monsieur has not had time to dress."

"I repeat I have no evening clothes, on the other hand I've a deuce of
a good appetite. A brandy cocktail and the book of words, please."

They were supplied.

Richard ordered his dinner with a reckless disregard for expenditure
and a nice choice of wine and dishes which earned the appreciation of
those that waited upon him. He finished with a Villa Villa and a
double Napoleon and sat back with folded arms, a pleasant smile and
eyes that drowsed comfortably over the agreeable quiet of the cafe.

It caused him something of an effort to ask for his bill, dispose of it
with the last of his notes, tip the waiter and rise to his feet. As he
was approaching the swing doors that led to the little hexagonal foyer,
a man at a table near by raised a pair of keen black eyes, glanced at
him quickly, smiled and nodded. The man's face was unfamiliar but
Richard returned the nod casually and passed out. The man half rose
then changed his