Side by side on one of the big leather couches in the small smoking room
of the Milan Hotel, Mr. James P. Rounceby and his friend Mr. Richard
Marnstam sat whispering together. It was nearly two o clock, and they
were alone in the room. Some of the lights had been turned out. The roar
of life in the streets without had ceased. It was an uneasy hour for
those whose consciences were not wholly at rest!

The two men were in evening dress--Rounceby in dinner coat and black
tie, as befitted his role of travelling American. The glasses in front
of them were only half-filled, and had remained so for the last hour.
Their conversation had been nervous and spasmodic. It was obvious that
they were waiting for some one.

Three o'clock struck by the little timepiece on the mantel shelf. A
little exclamation of a profane nature broke from Rounceby's lips. He
leaned toward his companion.

"Say," he muttered, in a rather thick undertone, "how about this fellow
Vincent Cawdor? You haven't any doubts about him, I suppose? He's on the
square, all right, eh?"

Marnstam wet his lips nervously.

"Cawdor's all right," he said. "I had it direct from headquarters at
Paris. What are you uneasy about, eh?"

Rounceby pointed towards the clock.

"Do you see the time?" he asked.

"He said he'd be late," Marnstam answered.

Rounceby put his hand to his forehead and found it moist.

"It's been a silly game, all along," he muttered. "We'd better have
brought the young ass up here and jostled him!"

"Not so easy," Marnstam answered. "These young fools have a way of
turning obstinate. He'd have chucked us, sure. Anyhow, he's safer where
he is."

They relapsed once more into silence. A storm of rain beat upon the
window. Rounceby glanced up. It was as black out there as were the
waters of that silent tarn! The man shivered as the thought struck
him. Marnstam, who had no nerves, twirled his moustache and watched his
companion with wonder.

"You look as though you saw a ghost," he remarked.

"Perhaps I do!" Rounceby growled.

"You had better finish your drink, my dear fellow," Marnstam advised.
"Afterwards--"

Suddenly he stiffened into attention. He laid his hand upon his
companion's knee.

"Listen!" he said. "There is some one coming."

They leaned a little forward. The swing doors were opened. A girl's
musical laugh rang out from the corridor. Tall and elegant, with her
black lace skirt trailing upon the floor, her left hand