and with whom Cleek came to grips,
for they chose to vanish suddenly from their Parisian haunts immediately
after that tragical night at "The Inn of the Twisted Arm." It is
certain, however, that they proceeded in due time to the East, for they
were seen in both India and Ceylon several months after their
disappearance from Paris. Indeed, they were obliged to fly from the
latter place to escape arrest when the confession of a drunken native
exposed, before its fulfilment, a plan to loot the repository of the
Pearl Fisheries Company at a time when it contained several thousand
pounds' worth of gems. From that point there is no record of their
movements for many, many months.

Of course, after such a terrifying experience in the French capital, and
not knowing when the Apache band might, knowing her part in the affair,
avenge themselves upon her for the failure of the snare of "The Red
Crawl," residence in France became a bugbear to Ailsa Lorne. Despite the
pleadings of Athalie and the baron, whom she had served so well in
giving help to Cleek, she was steadfast in her determination to leave it
and to return to her native land. She therefore packed up her
belongings, journeyed back to London, and set about finding some other
position whereby she could earn her living.

Circumstances had so shaped themselves that Cleek had seen next to
nothing of her since her return to England, much and deeply as he longed
to do so. Beyond one delightful call at the modest little boarding-place
where she was stopping, whilst waiting for an answer to her
advertisement for a post as governess or companion, an answer which
speedily came and was as speedily accepted, he had not met her at all
since their parting in Paris, and, as their friendship was not
sufficiently close to warrant the interchange of letters, she seemed as
far away from him as ever.

Imagine, then, his surprise and delight, on returning to the house in
Clarges Street late one afternoon, in company with the redoubtable
Dollops, to find lying upon his table a note containing these words:

MY DEAR CLEEK:

Kindly refrain from going out this evening. I shall call about
nine o'clock, bringing with me Miss Ailsa Lorne, whom you
doubtless remember, and her present patron, Angela, Countess
Chepstow, the young widow of that ripping old war-horse who,
as you may recall, quelled that dangerous and fanatical rising
of the Cingalese at Trincomalee