ot take a bus.

She was half-way across St. James's Park, when a man's voice behind her
made her start.

"Excuse me," it said. "But may I speak to you for a moment?"

CHAPTER II. MR. WHITTINGTON'S OFFER

TUPPENCE turned sharply, but the words hovering on the tip of her tongue
remained unspoken, for the man's appearance and manner did not bear out
her first and most natural assumption. She hesitated. As if he read her
thoughts, the man said quickly:

"I can assure you I mean no disrespect."

Tuppence believed him. Although she disliked and distrusted him
instinctively, she was inclined to acquit him of the particular motive
which she had at first attributed to him. She looked him up and down. He
was a big man, clean shaven, with a heavy jowl. His eyes were small and
cunning, and shifted their glance under her direct gaze.

"Well, what is it?" she asked.

The man smiled.

"I happened to overhear part of your conversation with the young
gentleman in Lyons'."

"Well--what of it?"

"Nothing--except that I think I may be of some use to you."

Another inference forced itself into Tuppence's mind:

"You followed me here?"

"I took that liberty."

"And in what way do you think you could be of use to me?"

The man took a card from his pocket and handed it to her with a bow.

Tuppence took it and scrutinized it carefully. It bore the inscription,
"Mr. Edward Whittington." Below the name were the words "Esthonia
Glassware Co.," and the address of a city office. Mr. Whittington spoke
again:

"If you will call upon me to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock, I will
lay the details of my proposition before you."

"At eleven o'clock?" said Tuppence doubtfully.

"At eleven o'clock."

Tuppence made up her mind.

"Very well. I'll be there."

"Thank you. Good evening."

He raised his hat with a flourish, and walked away. Tuppence remained
for some minutes gazing after him. Then she gave a curious movement of
her shoulders, rather as a terrier shakes himself.

"The adventures have begun," she murmured to herself. "What does he want
me to do, I wonder? There's something about you, Mr. Whittington, that I
don't like at all. But, on the other hand, I'm not the least bit afraid
of you. And as I've said before, and shall doubtless say again, little
Tuppence can look after herself, thank you!"

And with a short, sharp nod of her head she walked briskly onward. As a
result of further meditations, however, she tur