," he said.

"I liked you from the moment you jumped into the railway carriage" she
replied, "in those ridiculous clothes, and with a face like a ghost.
Then I liked your independence in refusing to come and be helped along,
and since I have read your--but we won't talk about that, only if you
have really no friends, let me be your first."

No wonder his brain felt a little dizzy. They were driving through the
great squares now, and already he began to wonder with a dull regret how
much longer it was to last. Then at a corner they came face to face
with Drexley. He was walking moodily along, but at the sight of them he
stopped short upon the pavement. Emily de Reuss bowed and smiled.
Drexley returned the salute with a furious glance at her companion. He
felt like a man befooled. Douglas, too, sat forward in the carriage, a
bright spot of colour in his cheeks.

"You know that man?" he said.

She assented quietly.

"Yes, I have met him. He is the editor of the _Ibex_."

Douglas remembered the bitterness of that interview and Rice's
amazement, but he said nothing. He leaned back with half closed eyes.
After all perhaps it had been for the best. Yet Drexley's black look
puzzled him.

CHAPTER XIV

A VISITOR FROM SCOTLAND YARD

The carriage pulled up before one of the handsomest houses in London.
Douglas, brought back suddenly to the present, realised that this
wonderful afternoon was at an end. The stopping of the carriage seemed
to him, in a sense, symbolical. The interlude was over. He must go
back to his brooding land of negatives.

"It has been very kind of you to come and see me, and to take me out,"
he said.

She interrupted the words of farewell which were upon his lips.

"Our little jaunt is not over yet," she remarked, smiling. "We are
going to have dinner together--you and I alone, and afterwards I will
show you that even a town house can sometimes boast of a pleasant
garden. You needn't look at your clothes. We shall be alone, and you
will be very welcome as you are."

They passed in together, and Douglas was inclined to wonder more than
ever whether this were not a dream, only that his imagination could
never have revealed anything like this to him. Outside the
hall-porter's office was a great silver bowl sprinkled all over with the
afternoon's cards and notes. A footman with powdered hair admitted
them, another moved respectfully before them, and threw open the door of
the room to which Emi