uld have
been sitting beside him in front. Instead, she was behind him, in the
body of the car, and had evidently been talking with him over the back
of the seat. The big machine, too, was moving at a snail's pace,
clearly in order that they might talk at leisure. In other words,
Logotheti had arranged a secret meeting with Margaret, with her
consent; and that could only mean one thing. The Greek had gained
enough influence over her to make her do almost anything he liked.

It was not a pleasant discovery, but it was an important one, and
Lushington thought over the best means of following it up. He almost
choked with anger as he reflected that if matters went on at this rate,
Margaret would soon be going to Logotheti's house without even the
nominal protection afforded by little Madame De Rosa. He rode back by
the way he had taken outward and passed the Greek's house. The motor
car was not there, which was a relief, on the whole.

He went on as far as the Opera, for he knew from his mother that
Margaret's rehearsals were taking place there, by the kindness of the
director, who was on very friendly terms with Schreiermeyer. But the
motor was not to be seen. Logotheti, who could hardly have entered
disguised as his own chauffeur, and who would not leave the machine
unguarded in the street, had possibly left Margaret at the door and
gone away. Lushington got off his bicycle and went in under the covered
way to the stage door.

In answer to his questions, the keeper told him that Mademoiselle da
Cordova was rehearsing, and would probably not come out for at least
two hours. Lushington asked the man whether he had seen Logotheti. No,
he had not; he knew Monsieur Logotheti very well; he knew all the
subscribers, and particularly all those who were members of the 'high
finance.' Besides, every one in Paris knew Monsieur Logotheti by sight;
every one knew him as well as the column in the Place Vendome. He had
not been seen that morning. The door-keeper, who had absolutely nothing
to do just at that hour, was willing to talk; but he had nothing of
importance to say. Monsieur Logotheti came sometimes to rehearsals. A
few days ago he and Mademoiselle da Cordova had left the theatre
together. The keeper smiled, and ventured to suppose that Mademoiselle
da Cordova was 'protected' by the 'financier.' Lushington flushed
angrily and went away.

It had come already, then; what the man had said this morning, he would
say to-morrow