it even from that elevation. He was interested; and since
only unusual things aroused any semblance of interest in the man who now
stood at the window, one might have surmised that there was something
unusual about the present visitor, or in his having decided to call at
those chambers; and that such was indeed his purpose an upward glance
which he cast in the direction of the balcony sufficiently proved.

The watcher, who had been standing in a dark recess formed by the
presence of heavy velvet curtains draped before the window, now opened
the curtains and stepped into the lighted room. He was a tall, lean man
having straight, jet-black hair, a sallow complexion, and the features
of a Sioux. A long black cigar protruded aggressively from the left
corner of his mouth. His hands were locked behind him and his large and
quite expressionless blue eyes stared straight across the room at the
closed door with a dreamy and vacant regard. His dinner jacket fitted
him so tightly that it might have been expected at any moment to split
at the seams. As if to precipitate the catastrophe, he wore it buttoned.

There came a rap at the door.

"In!" said the tall man.

The door opened silently and a manservant appeared. He was spotlessly
neat and wore his light hair cropped close to the skull. His
fresh-coloured face was quite as expressionless as that of his master;
his glance possessed no meaning. Crossing to the window, he extended a
small salver upon which lay a visiting card.

"In!" repeated the tall man, looking down at the card.

His servant silently retired, and following a short interval rapped
again upon the door, opened it, and standing just inside the room
announced: "Mr. Paul Harley."

The door being quietly closed behind him, Paul Harley stood staring
across the room at Nicol Brinn. At this moment the contrast between
the types was one to have fascinated a psychologist. About Paul Harley,
eagerly alert, there was something essentially British. Nicol Brinn,
without being typical, was nevertheless distinctly a product of the
United States. Yet, despite the stoic mask worn by Mr. Brinn, whose
lack-lustre eyes were so unlike the bright gray eyes of his visitor,
there existed, if not a physical, a certain spiritual affinity between
the two; both were men of action.

Harley, after that one comprehensive glance, the photographic glance of
a trained observer, stepped forward impulsively, hand outstretched. "Mr.
Brinn,"