you come and see
me one day, and talk about it? I live at Number 17, Cadogan Street."

"I will come with pleasure," he answered, rising. "Will you forgive me
if I leave you now? There is a man just leaving with whom I must
speak."

He passed away, and left the room with a little thrill of
satisfaction. He had contrived to impress the one woman whom he was
anxious to impress! Children like little Lois Champneyes and those
others, were easy. This woman he knew at once was something different.
Besides, she was a friend of Rochester's, and that meant something to
him.

He walked along Regent Street to the end, and crossing the road,
entered a large cafe. Here he sat before one of the marble-topped
tables, and ordered some coffee. In a few minutes he was joined by
another man, who handed his coat and hat to the waiter, and sat down
with the air of one who was expected. Saton nodded, a little curtly.

"Will you take anything?" he asked.

"A bottle of beer and a cigar," the newcomer ordered. "A shilling
cigar, I think, to-night. It will run to it."

"Anything special?" Saton asked.

"Things in general are about the same as usual," his companion
answered. "They did a little better in Oxford Street and Regent
Street, but Violet had a dull day in Bond Street. I have closed up
the Egyptian place in the Arcade--'Ayesha' we called it. The police
are always suspicious of a woman's name, and I had a hint from a
detective I know."

Saton nodded.

"You have something else to tell me, haven't you?" he asked.

"Yes!" the other answered. "We had a very important client in Bond
Street this afternoon, one of those whose names you gave me."

Saton leaned across the table.

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Lady Mary Rochester of Beauleys," the other answered--"got a town
house, and a big country place down in Mechestershire."

Something flashed for a moment in Saton's eyes, but he said nothing.
His companion commenced to draw leisurely a sheet of paper from his
breast coat pocket. He was fair and middle-aged, respectably dressed,
and with the air of a prosperous city merchant. His eyes were a little
small, and his cheeks inclined to be fat, or he would have been
reasonably good-looking.

"Lady Mary called without giving her name," he continued, "but we knew
her, of course, by our picture gallery. She called professedly to
amuse herself. She was told the usual sorts of things, with a few
additions thrown in from our knowledge of