tter which concerns nobody else except yourself. If you do decide to
favour me with one, I shall be delighted to come, provided Margaret has
no objection."

"Such a reservation promises well for the future," Sir Timothy observed,
with gentle sarcasm. "Here comes Margaret, looking very well, I am glad
to see."

Margaret came forward to greet her father before stepping into the car.
They exchanged only a few sentences, but Francis, whose interest in
their relations was almost abnormally keen, fancied that he could detect
signs of some change in their demeanour towards one another. The cold
propriety of deportment which had characterised her former attitude
towards her father, seemed to have given place to something more
uncertain, to something less formal, something which left room even for
a measure of cordiality. She looked at him differently. It was as though
some evil thought which lived in her heart concerning him had perished.

"You are busy over there, father?" she asked.

"In a way," he replied. "We are preparing for some festivities on
Thursday."

Her face fell.

"Another party?"

"One more," he replied. "Perhaps the last--for the present, at any
rate."

She waited as though expecting him to explain. He changed the subject,
however.

"I think you are wise to run up to town this morning," he said,
glancing up at the grey skies. "By-the-bye, if you dine at Curzon
Street to-night, do ask Hedges to serve you some of the '99 Cliquot. A
marvellous wine, as you doubtless know, Ledsam, but it should be drunk.
Au revoir!"

Francis, after a pleasant lunch at Ranelagh, and having arranged with
Margaret to dine with her in Curzon Street, spent an hour or two that
afternoon at his chambers. As he was leaving, just before five, he came
face to face with Shopland descending from a taxi.

"Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?" the latter enquired. "Can you spare me
half-an-hour?"

"An hour, if you like," Francis assented.

Shopland gave the driver an address and the two men seated themselves in
the taxicab.

"Any news?" Francis asked curiously.

"Not yet," was the cautious reply. "It will not be long, however."

"Before you discover Reggie Wilmore?"

The detective smiled in a superior way.

"I am no longer particularly interested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore," he
declared. "I have come to the conclusion that his disappearance is not a
serious affair."

"It's serious enough for his relatives," Francis objected.

"N