en there's a woman in the
case'--he'd have been nearer the mark!"

"What do you mean?" I demanded, hotly enough.

"Well, I also dined at the Cecil to-night, though not with the
'Savages,' and I happened to hear that you and Cassavetti--we'll call
him that--were looking daggers at each other, and that the lady, who was
remarkably handsome, appeared to enjoy the situation! Who is she, Wynn?
Do I know her?"

I watched him closely, but his face betrayed nothing.

"I think your informant must have been a--journalist, Lord Southbourne,"
I said very quietly. "And we seem to have strayed pretty considerably
from the point. I came here to take your instructions, and if I'm to
start at nine on Monday I shall not see you again."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"All right; we'll get to business. Here's the new code; get it off by
heart between now and Monday, and destroy the copy. It's safer. Here's
your passport, duly _vised_, and a cheque. That's all, I think. I don't
need to teach you your work. But I don't want you to meet with such a
fate as Carson's; so I expect you to be warned by his example. And you
are not to make any attempt to unravel the mystery of his death. I tell
you that for your own safety! The matter has been taken up from the
Embassy, and everything possible will be done to hunt the assassin down.
Good-bye, and good luck!"

We shook hands and I went out into the night. It was now well past
midnight, and the streets were even quieter than usual at that hour, for
there had been a sharp storm while I was with Southbourne. I had heard
the crash of thunder at intervals, and the patter of heavy rain all the
time. Now the storm was over, the air was cool and fresh, the sky clear.
The wet street gleamed silver in the moonlight, and was all but
deserted. The traffic had thinned down to an occasional hansom or
private carriage, and there were few foot-passengers abroad. I did not
meet a soul along the whole of Whitehall except the policemen, their wet
mackintoshes glistening in the moonlight.

But, as I reached the corner of Parliament Square, I saw, just across
the road, a man and woman walking rapidly in the direction of
Westminster Bridge. I glanced at them casually, then looked again, more
intently. The man looked like a sailor; he wore a pea-jacket and a
peaked cap, while the woman was enveloped in a long dark cloak, and had
a black scarf over her head. I saw a gleam of jewelled shoe-buckles as
she picked her