ered, and well-dressed man of the world. He had studied
various details with a peculiar care, suffered a barber to take summary
measures with his overlong black hair, had accustomed himself to the use
of an eyeglass, which hung around his neck by a thin, black ribbon. Men
might talk of likenesses, men who were close students of their fellows,
yet there was no living person who could point to him and say--"You are,
beyond a shadow of doubt, a man with whom I travelled on the
_Elletania_." The thing was impossible.

Louis once more made a noiseless appearance. There was the slightest of
frowns upon his face.

"A gentleman wishes a word with you before the arrival of your guests,
Mr. Ware," he announced.

"A journalist?" Philip enquired carelessly.

"I do not think so, sir."

Even as he spoke the door was opened and closed again. The man who
had entered bowed slightly to Philip. He was tall and clean-shaven,
self-assured, and with manner almost significantly reserved. He held a
bowler hat in his hand and glanced towards Louis. He had the air of
being somewhat out of place in so fashionable a rendezvous.

"Good evening, Mr. Ware!" he began. "Could I have just a word with you?"

Philip nodded to Louis, who at once left the room. The newcomer drew a
little nearer.

"My name, sir," he said, "is Dane--Edward Dane."

Philip bowed politely. He was just a little annoyed at the intrusion, an
annoyance which he failed altogether to conceal.

"What do you want with me?" he asked. "I am expecting some friends to
supper in about ten minutes."

"Ten minutes will perhaps be sufficient for what I have to say," the
other promised. "You don't know me, then, Mr. Ware?"

"Never saw you before, to the best of my knowledge," Philip replied
nonchalantly. "Are you a journalist?"

The man laid his hat upon a corner of the table.

"I am a detective," he said, "attached to the Cherry Street headquarters.
Your last rooms, Mr. Ware, were in my beat."

Philip nodded with some slight indication of interest. He faced his
ordeal with the courage of a man of steel.

"That so?" he remarked indifferently. "Well, Mr. Dane, I have heard a
good deal about you American detectives. Pleased to meet you. What can I
do for you?"

The detective eyed Philip steadfastly. There was just the shadow of
something that looked like admiration in his hard, grey eyes.

"Well, Mr. Ware," he said, "nothing that need disturb your supper party,
I am sure. Ov