Cranbourne turned.

"Have you missed it," he said. "Then here's something to think about.
Suppose Van Diest kidnaps the wrong man." The door slammed behind him.

Mr. Torrington laid a card on the table with careful deliberation. He
was smiling.

"Great fun," he murmured to himself.

CHAPTER 4.

SITTING ON THE FLOOR.

When Anthony Barraclough left the Mansions he walked up Park Lane and
turned into Green Street. Before a house with a white front door he
stopped and attacked the knocker. He was admitted by a parlourmaid and
informed that Miss Irish was in the boudoir. This was good news because
it meant sitting on the floor and lovers all the world over are at their
happiest when they sit on the floor. There is something soothing and
familiar about it. A man loves to sprawl and a woman is always at her
best curled up among cushions. It is impossible to be disagreeable when
you are sitting on the floor. You couldn't conceivably have a row in
that position. Perhaps a little sulking might be done but very little
and only of the kind that provokes pleasant makings-up. Altogether it is
a jolly fine institution and the world would be a better place if there
was more of it.

In the opinion of Anthony Barraclough no one sat on the floor so divinely
as Isabel, and to tell the truth he rather fancied himself as her floor
partner.

"Don't you bother," he said to the maid. "I'll make my own way up."

He handed over his hat and stick and mounted the stairs and knocked at a
door on the second floor.

"May I come in?" he asked and did not wait for the reply.

Isabel was built in among a nest of squabs and cushions that circled the
tiny grate.

"Nice!" she said with a grin. "I was beginning to think you were
deserting me. Rang up three times yesterday I did."

"Awful busy I was," he returned and disposed himself luxuriously beside
her. Then he said 'Please' and had every reason to say 'Thank you' only
he preferred to express it otherwise.

"What you been doing?"

"Trous-sewing," she answered nodding at a small basket decorated with
silk fruit and overflowing with pieces of flimsy needlework. "But I've
been dull. Where were you yesterday?"

"All over the place. North, south, east and west and the nor'-nor's and
the sou'-sou's into the bargain. It was a hectic day."

Something in the forced gaiety of his voice made her look at him
critically.

"Anything wrong?" he asked. "I know I'm not