or.

"Mr. George Peters?" inquired Hugh. "I have an appointment."

"What name, sir?" the young, narrow-eyed man asked.

"Henfrey."

"Oh, yes, sir! Mr. Peters is expecting you," he said. And at once he
conducted him along the narrow hall to a room beyond.

The house was beautifully appointed. Everywhere was taste and luxury.
Even in the hall there were portraits by old Spanish masters and many
rare English sporting prints.

The room into which he was shown was a long apartment furnished in the
style of the Georgian era. The genuine Adams ceiling, mantelpiece,
and dead white walls, with the faintly faded carpet of old rose and
light-blue, were all in keeping. The lights, too, were shaded, and over
all was an old-world atmosphere of quiet and dignified repose.

The room was empty, and Hugh crossed to examine a beautiful little
marble statuette of a girl bather, with her arms raised and about to
dive. It was, no doubt, a gem of the art of sculpture, mounted upon a
pedestal of dark-green marble which revolved.

The whole conception was delightful, and the girl's laughing face was
most perfect in its portraiture.

Of a sudden the door reopened, and he was met by a stout, rather wizened
old gentleman with white bristly hair and closely cropped moustache, a
man whose ruddy face showed good living, and who moved with the brisk
alertness of a man twenty years his junior.

"Ah! here you are, Mr. Henfrey!" he exclaimed warmly, as he offered his
visitor his hand. Upon the latter was a well-worn black glove--evidently
to hide either some disease or deformity. "I was wondering if you
received my letter safely?"

"Yes," replied Hugh, glancing at the shrewd little man whose gloved
right hand attracted him.

"Sit down," the other said, as he closed the door. "I'm very anxious to
have a little chat with you."

Hugh took the arm-chair which Mr. Peters indicated. Somehow he viewed
the man with suspicion. His eyes were small and piercing, and his face
with its broad brow and narrow chin was almost triangular. He was a man
of considerable personality, without a doubt. His voice was high pitched
and rather petulant.

"Now," he said. "I was surprised to learn that you had left your safe
asylum in Kensington. Not only was I surprised--but I confess, I was
alarmed."

"I take it that I have to thank you for making those arrangements for
my escape from Monte Carlo?" remarked Hugh, looking him straight in the
face.

"No thanks