e so pressing."

"And as a gentleman you make no troubles--no noise."

"There's no such thing as a noisy gentleman."

Ezra P. Hipps rapped the butt of his automatic on the table top.

"You can keep the cross-talking for the automobile," he said. "We're
through here--step out."

As they moved toward the door Laurence slipped a hand through Richard's
arm.

"My dear old fellow," he said, "if you only knew how distasteful all
this is to me."

Richard drew his arm away sharply.

"So's that to me," he said, brushing his sleeve with the deliberate
will to offend. Then he turned and bowed to Auriole. "Your friends
are amusing but I'm afraid they are going to waste a lot of time. Are
you coming our way?"

CHAPTER 10.

NERVES.

The clocks were striking seven when Anthony Barraclough descended the
stairs of the flats and hailed a taxi. The street was deserted save
for a policeman and an old hag who was sorting over the contents of a
dustbin outside the adjoining house. She shot a quick glance at
Barraclough and broke into a cackle of thin laughter.

"Didn't take you long to come up in the world," she piped. "Always
thought you were a bit of a fraud."

Barraclough gasped. The disappointment was so cruel.

"You are making a mistake," he said and opened the taxi door.

"You've had a shave, that's all, but, bless you, that don't deceive me."

"Look here----" he began.

"You don't want to be recognised, my dear. I can easily forget, you
know, if I'm encouraged." She stretched out a filthy clawlike hand.

There was something queer in her manner--a difference from the rank and
file of Van Diest's regiment.

Clearly, too, her poverty was genuine. With a little tact her
allegiance might be diverted. He pulled a note case from his pocket
and detached a fiver.

"Take that," he said, "and if you want more----"

He rattled off Lord Almont's address in Park Lane.

"Save my soul!" gasped the old woman. "Are you crazy? Didn't expect
more'n a florin. Bless your pretty heart. You must be badly
frightened of something."

But Barraclough waited for no more. He jumped into the taxi with the
words 'Westminster Bridge' and drove away, swearing to himself.

"Of all rotten luck. Yet I can't help feeling she didn't belong to
that gang after all. Wonder if I've made an almighty fool of myself."

For the first time in his life his nerves were beginning to fray. His
fingers drummed a tattoo on the lea