philosophy. Are you agreeable?"

The mocking tone died out of the small, clear voice until it was
almost pleading.

"You have taken me at a disadvantage," Steel said. "And you know--"

"Everything. I am trying to save you from ruin. Fortune has played you
into my hands. I am perfectly aware that if you were not on the verge of
social extinction you would refuse my request. It is in your hands to
decide. You know that Beckstein, your creditor, is absolutely merciless.
He will get his money back and more besides. This is his idea of
business. To-morrow you will be an outcast--for the time, at any rate.
Your local creditors will be insolent to you; people will pity you or
blame you, as their disposition lies. On the other hand, you have but to
say the word and you are saved. You can go and see the Brighton
representatives of Beckstein's lawyers, and pay them in paper of the Bank
of England."

"If I was assured of your bona-fides," Steel murmured.

A queer little laugh, a laugh of triumph, came over the wires.

"I have anticipated that question. Have you Greenwich time about you?"

Steel responded that he had. It was five-and-twenty minutes past twelve.
He had quite ceased to wonder at any questions put to him now. It was all
so like one of his brilliant little extravanganzas.

"You can hang up your receiver for five minutes," the voice said.
"Precisely at half-past twelve you go and look on your front doorstep.
Then come back and tell me what you have found. You need not fear that I
shall go away."

Steel hung up the receiver, feeling that he needed a little rest. His
cigarette was actually scorching his left thumb and forefinger, but he
was heedless of the fact. He flicked up the dining-room lights again and
rapidly made himself a sparklet soda, which he added to a small whisky.
He looked almost lovingly at the gleaming Cellini tankard, at the pools
of light on the fair damask. Was it possible that he was not going to
lose all this, after all?

The Moorish clock in the study droned the half-hour.

David gulped down his whisky and crept shakily to the front door with a
feeling on him that he was doing something stealthily. The bolts and
chain rattled under his trembling fingers. Outside, the whole world
seemed to be sleeping. Under the wide canopy of stars some black object
picked out with shining points lay on the white marble breadth of the top
step. A gun-metal cigar-case set in tiny diamonds.

The noveli