s not
recognizable as the scrubby wretch who had entered the bath six
hours before.

Desmond strolled idly along the crowded streets in the sunshine.
He was rather at a loss as to what his next move should be. Now
that his mental freshness was somewhat restored, his thoughts
began to busy themselves again with the disappearance of Barbara
Mackwayte. He was conscious of a guilty feeling towards Barbara.
It was not so much the blame he laid upon himself for not being
at the Mill House to meet her when she came as the sense that he
had been unfaithful to the cause of her murdered father.

Now that he was away from Nur-el-Din with her pleading eyes and
pretty gestures, Desmond's thoughts turned again to Barbara
Mackwayte. As he walked along Piccadilly, he found himself
contrasting the two women as he had contrasted them that night he
had met them in Nur-el-Din's dressing room at the Palaceum. And,
with a sense of shame; he became aware of how much he had
succumbed to the dancer's purely sensual influence; for away from
her he found he could regain his independence of thought and
action.

The thought of Barbara in the hands of that woman with the cruel
eyes or a victim to the ruthlessness of Strangwise made Desmond
cold with apprehension. If they believed the girl knew where the
jewel had disappeared to, they would stop at nothing to force a
confession from her; Desmond was convinced of that. But what had
become of the trio?

In vain he cast about him for a clue. As far as he knew, the only
London address that Strangwise had was the Nineveh; and he was as
little likely to return there as Bellward was to make his way to
his little hotel in Jermyn Street. There remained Mrs. Malplaquet
who, he remembered, had told him of her house at Campden Hill.

For the moment, Desmond decided, he must put both Strangwise and
Bellward out of his calculations. The only direction in which he
could start his inquiries after Barbara Mackwayte pointed towards
Campden Hill and Mrs. Malplaquet.

The delightful weather suggested to his mind the idea of walking
out to Campden Hill to pursue his investigations on the spot. So
he made his way across the Park into Kensington Gardens heading
for the pleasant glades of Notting Hill. In the Bayswater Road he
turned into a postoffice and consulted the London Directory. He
very quickly convinced himself that among the hundreds of
thousands of names compiled by Mr. Kelly's indefatigable industry
M