ng! It's under my heel, Dick, but I can't crush it. I
came away from Leicestershire because I was afraid."

"Does she--exist?" Holderness asked.

"Not for me," Macheson declared hurriedly. "Don't think that. I
shouldn't have mentioned it, but for our compact."

Holderness nodded.

"Bad luck," he said. "This craving for something we haven't got--can't
have--I wish I could find the germ. The world should go free of it for a
generation. We'd build empires, we'd reconstruct society. It's a deadly
germ, though, Victor, and it's the princes of the world who suffer most.
There's only one antidote--work!"

"Give me some," Macheson begged.

The giant looked at him thoughtfully.

"Right," he answered, "but not to-day. Clothes up in town?"

Macheson nodded.

"We'll go on the bust," Holderness declared. "I've been dying for a
spree! We'll have it. Where are you staying?"

"My old rooms," Macheson answered. "I looked in on my way from the
station and found them empty."

"Capital! We're close together. Come on! We'll do the West End like two
gay young bucks. Five o'clock, isn't it? We'll walk up Regent Street and
have an 'aperitif' at Biflore's. Wait till I brush my hat."

Macheson made no difficulties, but he was puzzled. Holderness he knew
well enough had no leanings towards the things which he proposed with so
much enthusiasm. Was it a pilgrimage they were to start upon--or what?
After all, why need he worry? He was content to go his friend's way.

So they walked up Regent Street, bright with the late afternoon
sunshine, threading their way through the throngs of sauntering men and
women gazing into the shops--and at one another! At Biflore's Macheson
would have felt out of his element but for Holderness' self-possession.
He had the air of going through what might have been an everyday
performance, ordered vermouth mixed, lit a cigarette, leaned back at his
ease upon the cushioned seat, and told with zest and point a humorous
story. There were women there, a dozen or more, some alone, some in
little groups, women smartly enough dressed, good-looking, too, and
prosperous, with gold purses and Paris hats, yet--lacking something.
Macheson did not ask himself what it was. He felt it; he knew, too, that
Holderness meant him to feel it. The shadow of tragedy was there--the
world's tragedy....

They went back to their rooms to dress and met at a popular
restaurant--one of the smartest. Here Macheson began to recover his