egent Street, and turning up Shaftesbury Avenue,
made her way on foot to the boarding house near the British Museum where
she was living. She went straight up to her room and sat down to think.
She had decided that these men were probably employed by Littleson, and
that they were going to make an attempt, that night apparently, upon the
life of Norris Vine. In any case her first impulse would have been to
warn him, but she had also personal reasons for doing so. If this paper
which Vine held was recovered by some one else, her own mission would be
a failure. In the hands of Littleson and his friends, it would without a
doubt be promptly destroyed, and nothing would be left for her to do but
to go back to America and own her defeat. She decided that Norris Vine
must be warned. At first she thought of writing or telegraphing. Then
she remembered that it was already past six, and that Vine was not
expected to return to his rooms until after dinner. He would probably,
therefore, receive neither telegram nor letter before he had walked into
the trap. There was only one thing left for her to do. If these men
could obtain ingress to Vine's rooms, so could she. She must be there
first and warn him.

She changed her clothes, and after a few minutes' hesitation, set out
to dine at one of the restaurants which she had on her list. It was a
smart and somewhat Bohemian place, but even here women dining alone were
subjected to a good deal of remark, and her cheeks grew hot as she
remembered her first visit there, and the whispered discussion between
the waiters as to whether she should be given a table. She had become a
fairly regular customer there now, though, and to-night she was given a
table near the wall, an excellent vantage ground for her, but exactly
opposite three men, who had apparently been drinking heavily, and whose
whole attention, from the moment of her entrance, seemed fixed upon her.
She ordered her dinner, steadfastly ignoring them, and sat as usual with
her eyes fixed upon the door, but her indifference was not sufficient to
chill the ardour of the younger of the three men. She saw him call a
waiter and write something on the back of a card, and immediately
afterwards the waiter, with some hesitation, and a half-expressed
apology, presented it to her. She tore it in pieces, and went on with
her dinner without a word. Then a voice at her elbow startled her.

"Miss Longworth," it said, "won't you allow me to sit at