y in a deep arm-chair,
and lay back puffing at the stump of a cigar.

"I distrust Sheard!" snapped Jesson suddenly.

"Eh," grunted the other. "Pull yourself together! It ain't likely that a
man who gets his livin', you might say, by keepin' in with the right
people" (he glanced down at his diamond studs) "is goin' to be mixed up
with a brigand like Bablon!"

"I'm not so sure!" persisted Jesson. "My position is a peculiar one; but
I'll go so far as to say that I don't trust him, and I won't go a step
farther. I don't expect you," he added, "to quote my opinion to
anybody."

"I shan't," said Rohscheimer. "It's too damn silly! What would he have
to gain? He ain't one of us."

"I'll say no more!" declared Jesson. "But keep your eyes open!"

"I'll do that!" Rohscheimer assured him. "I suppose you haven't any idea
who worked the card trick?"

"As to that--yes! I _have_ an idea--but I can only repeat that I'll say
no more."

"I hope Hague is all right," growled Rohscheimer. "He's got some good
rough stuff on him to-night. Brought it over to show me. I didn't like
that red line under his name. Looked as if he was sort of number one on
the list!"

"That's how it struck me. By the way, what became of the card?"

"Don't know," was the reply. "Push that bell. I want a whisky and soda."

Jesson pressed the bell, and Rohscheimer, tossing the stump into the
grate, dipped two fat fingers into his waistcoat pocket in quest of a
new cigar. It was his custom to carry two or three stuck therein.

"Hallo!"

Jesson turned to him--and saw that he held a card in his hand.

"Have you got the card?"

"Yes," said Rohscheimer, and turned it over.

Whereupon his face changed colour, and became an unclean grey.

"What's the matter?" cried Jesson.

His hand shaking slightly, Rohscheimer passed him the card. Jesson
peered at it anxiously.

The message which it bore was the same as that borne by the mysterious
card which had caused such a panic at the dinner table, but, upon the
other side, only one name appeared.

It was that of Julius Rohscheimer, and it was heavily underlined in red!

CHAPTER VII

THE RING

As the cab containing Baron Hague drove off along Park Lane, the Baron
heaved a sigh of relief. This incomprehensible Severac Bablon who had
descended like a simoon upon London was a perturbing presence--a breath
of hot fear that parched the mind! And the house in Park Lane, too,
recently had been made the s