he was not even surprised when he
found the Mercury waiting outside, with Dale, taciturn as ever,
scrutinizing the day's sporting news. In sober fact, the man was
almost as perturbed as his master. For an hour in the morning, and
again during certain periods of suspense in the afternoon, he forgot
his troubles in the effort either to "spot winners" or to persuade
himself that the horses he had selected for particular races had not
run, since their names failed to appear among the "first three." But
these spasms of anticipation and disillusionment soon passed. During
the remainder of the long hours of daylight Dale was ever on the _qui
vive_ for a wild rush of two or three hundred miles in pursuit of the
woman whose charms had so effectually subjugated the young Viscount.
Even the hunt for Marigny did not weaken Dale's belief, and Medenham
was never in Cavendish Square or at his club at any practicable hour
that the Mercury was not at hand, with petrol tanks full, luggage
carriers attached, and a full stock of spares and reserve spirit
on board. At any rate, on this occasion Medenham merely gave him
Marigny's address, and jumped inside. Dale was disappointed. He
expected the order to be "Carlisle," at the least.

Soon his lordship was being conducted by an hotel servant to a private
sitting-room. The Frenchman, who was seated at a table, writing, when
he entered, rose and bowed politely.

"I thought it highly probable that I should have the honor of seeing
you this morning, Viscount Medenham," he said, and there was a touch
of restraint, of formal courtesy, in his voice that the other, even in
his anger against the man, did not fail to notice. Oddly enough, it
savored of brutality to attack him without preface, and Marigny seemed
to be unconscious of his visitor's unconcealed animosity.

"I am glad you are here," he went on glibly. "Recent events call for
a full discussion between you and me, do you agree? But before we come
to close quarters, as you say in England, I wish to know whether the
argument is to be conducted on lines that befit gentlemen. On the last
occasion when we differed, you used the methods of the costermonger."

"They served their purpose," said Medenham, annoyed at finding the
Frenchman's coolness rather disconcerting.

Suddenly, he decided on a new plan of action, and resolved to let the
man say what he chose. Dearly as he would have liked to wreak physical
vengeance on him, he felt that such