g?"

"I should have thought you need hardly have asked," answered the
other a little sadly. "I found the wretched creature waiting, with
an equally wretched baby, both apparently not far from starvation,
outside the dock the other night; and--well, I thought she might be
waiting for you."

Lightmark threw the stump of his cigarette into a corner viciously,
with a dangerous glance at the other.

"Why the devil should she have been waiting for me? Did she say she
was waiting for me? How should a model know that I had been painting
there? But I don't want to quarrel with you, and, after all you've
done for me, I suppose you've a certain right to put yourself _in
loco parentis_, and all that sort of thing. Tell me all you have
found out about the girl--all she has told you, that is to say, and
then I'll see what I can do."

This masterly suggestion seemed to Rainham both plausible and
practical, and he proceeded to unfold the whole story of his first
meeting with Kitty. When he reached the part of his narrative which
brought out the girl's explanation that she was seeking to speak
with a Mr. Crichton, Lightmark looked at him again covertly, with
the same threatening light in his glance. Then, apparently
reassured, he resigned himself again to listen, with a cigarette
unlighted between his fingers.

"You say Oswyn heard the whole story?" he asked, when Rainham had
finished. "Did the girl seem to know him? Or did _he_ seem to have
heard of this Crichton before?"

"No," said Rainham reflectively; "the girl didn't know Oswyn,
though, on the other hand, he seemed certain that he had seen her
face somewhere--probably in that study of yours, by the way; and he
appeared to think that I ought to have heard of Crichton--Cyril
Crichton. He told me that the man wrote clever, scurrilous articles
on art and the drama for the _Outcry_. But I don't read English papers
much. You see, our difficulty is that Cyril Crichton is obviously a
nom de plume, and no one--not even the people at the _Outcry_
office--know, or will say, who the man is; Kitty has tried. I
suppose the editor knows all right, but he is discreet."

"Ah!" cried Lightmark. "Now I remember something about her. Have you
got your hat? Let's get into a hansom and go and dine--I'm
positively starving. I'll stand you a dinner at the Cavour--standing
you a dinner will be such a new sensation; and new sensations are
the only things worth living for. I will tell you about Kit