th me. Share the little we have, and let Cissy nurse
you--ay, and share our vengeance."

She was flung on one side. Off her guard for a moment, he had pushed
past her with unexpected strength.

"David!" she cried. "David!"

But she heard only his footsteps upon the stairs, swift and stealthy.
In the hall he turned and looked up at her. She was leaning over the
banisters.

"Take some money, at least," she said. "See, I have dropped my purse."

He watched it where it lay within a few feet of him, burst open with the
drop, and with the gleam of gold showing from one of the compartments.
He made no movement to pick it up. It seemed to her that as he passed
out he shrank from it. From the window she watched him turn the corner
of the street and vanish in the shadows.

CHAPTER XXXI

DREXLEY FORESEES DANGER

It was house-dinner night at the club, and there was a larger gathering
even than usual. Douglas was there, light-hearted and in capital
spirits, taking his first holiday for a week. Things were going well
enough with him now. His novel was nearly finished, and the last few
articles he had written for the Courier had brought a special visit from
Rawlinson, who had patted him on the back and raised his salary. He
felt like a man who had buffeted his way through the rough waters into
the smooth shelter of the harbour--already he had almost forgotten how
near they had come to closing over his head. Spring was coming, and the
love of life was once more hot in his veins. Westwards, the chestnuts
were budding and the lilac was in blossom. London was beginning to
raise herself with a great yawn, and to remember that at this season of
the year, at least, she had a place amongst the beautiful cities of the
world. Douglas, good-natured always, to-night particularly happy, saw
Drexley standing alone as usual by the terrace window, and crossed over
to his side.

"Play me a game of billiards, Drexley," he exclaimed. "I've only half
an hour to spare."

Drexley turned his head only just sufficiently to see who it was that
addressed him.

"Is that you, Jesson?" he said. "No thanks. I gave up billiards long
ago."

Douglas remained by his side.

"They tell me," he remarked, "that two years ago you were the best
player in the club. Why don't you keep it up?"

"Lost interest," was the brief reply. "You can't do things well that
you don't care about, can you?"

Douglas forgot to answer. He was aware that his companion