baronet to grasp and understand the mystery of Lady Kathleen.

When at last Captain Melun came up after lunch Westerham greeted him coldly—so coldly that the captain raised his eyebrows.

“It seems,” he said, “that you are not in a very good humour. Is London beginning to bore you?”

Sir Paul looked at him sharply. “No,” he said, thoughtfully, “not in the least, though I confess that I have to some extent exhausted its ordinary attractions. Now I propose to plunge a little deeper into its secrets and its mysteries. In this direction I am, of course, looking to you to help me.”

The captain nodded. “Quite so,” he agreed, “but I hope you realise that up to the present I have had nothing but your promises of favours to come—and times are hard.”

For answer, the baronet took out his pocket-book and counted out ten one-hundred-pound notes upon the table.

“This,” he said, “should be a sufficient guarantee of my good faith for the present. Mark you, I have had some experience of your kind before, and I do not propose to pay down a lump sum for services which you may subsequently find it inconvenient to render.

“Now I will come to the point at once. I don't propose to spend a thousand pounds for nothing—and when I say nothing, I mean for the privilege of knowing you alone. I am desirous of making the acquaintance of your friends and colleagues at once.”