ss, he watched Arnold uneasily.

"Say, there's no sense in talking like this!" he muttered. "Mr.
Chetwode here will think you're in earnest."

"There is, on the contrary, a very great deal of sound common
sense," Sabatini asserted, gently, "in all that I have said. I want
our young friend, Mr. Chetwode, to be a valued witness for the
defense when the misguided gentlemen from Scotland Yard choose to
lay a hand upon your shoulder. One should always be prepared, my
friend, for possibilities. You great--"

He stopped short. Starling, with a smothered oath, had sprung to his
feet. The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall; a small
electric bell was ringing violently. For the next few moments,
events marched swiftly. Starling, with incredible speed, had left
the room by the inner door. A waiter had suddenly appeared as though
by magic, and of the fourth place at table there seemed to be left
no visible signs. All the time, Sabatini, unmoved, continued to roll
his cigarette. Then there came a tapping at the door.

[Illustration: The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall.
_Page 97_.]

"See who is there," Sabatini instructed the waiter.

Gustave, his napkin in his hand, threw open the door. A young man
presented himself--a person of ordinary appearance, with a notebook
sticking out of his pocket. His eyes seemed to take in at once the
little party. He advanced a few steps into the room.

"You are perhaps not aware, sir," Sabatini said gently, "that this
is a private apartment."

The young man bowed.

"I must apologize for my intrusion, sir and madame," he declared,
looking towards Fenella. "I am a reporter on the staff of the
_Daily Unit_, and I am exceedingly anxious to interview--you will
pardon me!"

With a sudden swift movement he crossed the room, passed into the
inner apartment and disappeared. Sabatini rose to his feet.

"I propose," he said, "that we complain to the proprietor of this
excitable young journalist, and take our coffee in the palm court at
the Carlton."

Fenella also rose and stepped in front of the looking-glass.

"It is good," she declared. "I stay with you for one half hour.
Afterwards I have a bridge party. You will come with us, Mr.
Chetwode?"

Arnold did not at once reply. He was gazing at the inner door. Every
moment he expected to hear--what? It seemed to him that tragedy was
there, the greatest tragedy of all--the hunting of man! Sabatini
yawned.

"Those o