I found myself in my rooms in Westminster. I
thought there might be a message for me there, for I didn't propose to
go and call openly on Blenkiron at Claridge's till I had his
instructions. But there was no message--only a line from Peter, saying
he had hopes of being sent to Switzerland. That made me realize that he
must be pretty badly broken up.

Presently the telephone bell rang. It was Blenkiron who spoke. 'Go down
and have a talk with your brokers about the War Loan. Arrive there
about twelve o'clock and don't go upstairs till you have met a friend.
You'd better have a quick luncheon at your club, and then come to
Traill's bookshop in the Haymarket at two. You can get back to
Biggleswick by the 5.16.'

I did as I was bid, and twenty minutes later, having travelled by
Underground, for I couldn't raise a taxi, I approached the block of
chambers in Leadenhall Street where dwelt the respected firm who
managed my investments. It was still a few minutes before noon, and as
I slowed down a familiar figure came out of the bank next door.

Ivery beamed recognition. 'Up for the day, Mr Brand?' he asked. 'I have
to see my brokers,' I said, 'read the South African papers in my club,
and get back by the 5.16. Any chance of your company?'

'Why, yes--that's my train. _Au revoir_. We meet at the station.' He
bustled off, looking very smart with his neat clothes and a rose in his
button-hole.

I lunched impatiently, and at two was turning over some new books in
Traill's shop with an eye on the street-door behind me. It seemed a
public place for an assignation. I had begun to dip into a big
illustrated book on flower-gardens when an assistant came up. 'The
manager's compliments, sir, and he thinks there are some old works of
travel upstairs that might interest you.' I followed him obediently to
an upper floor lined with every kind of volume and with tables littered
with maps and engravings. 'This way, sir,' he said, and opened a door
in the wall concealed by bogus book-backs. I found myself in a little
study, and Blenkiron sitting in an armchair smoking.

He got up and seized both my hands. 'Why, Dick, this is better than
good noos. I've heard all about your exploits since we parted a year
ago on the wharf at Liverpool. We've both been busy on our own jobs,
and there was no way of keeping you wise about my doings, for after I
thought I was cured I got worse than hell inside, and, as I told you,
had to get the doctor-men to