eemed to be in a dangerously
high-strung condition.

"But I have booked a table and a box," cried Gray, with a hint of
juvenile petulance.

"My dear Gray," said Sir Lucien coolly, "we are men of the world--and
we do not look for consistency in womenfolk. Mrs. Irvin has decided to
consult a palmist or a hypnotist or some such occult authority before
dining with you this evening. Doubtless she seeks to learn if the play
to which you propose to take her is an amusing one."

His smile of sardonic amusement Gray found to be almost insupportable,
and although Sir Lucien refrained from looking at Mrs. Irvin whilst
he spoke, it was evident enough that his words held some covert
significance, for:

"You know perfectly well that I have a particular reason for seeing
him," she said.

"A woman's particular reason is a man's feeble excuse," murmured Sir
Lucien rudely. "At least, according to a learned Arabian philosopher."

"I was going to meet you at Prince's," said Mrs. Irvin hurriedly, and
again glancing at Gray. There was a pathetic hesitancy in her manner,
the hesitancy of a weak woman who adheres to a purpose only by supreme
effort.

"Might I ask," said Gray, "the name of the pervert you are going to
consult?"

Again she hesitated and glanced rapidly at Sir Lucien, but he was
staring coolly in another direction.

"Kazmah," she replied in a low voice.

"Kazmah!" cried Gray. "The man who sells perfume and pretends to read
dreams? What an extraordinary notion. Wouldn't tomorrow do? He will
surely have shut up shop!"

"I have been at pains to ascertain," replied Sir Lucien, "at Mrs.
Irvin's express desire, that the man of mystery is still in session and
will receive her."

Beneath the mask of nonchalance which he wore it might have been
possible to detect excitement repressed with difficulty; and had Gray
been more composed and not obsessed with the idea that Sir Lucien had
deliberately intruded upon his plans for the evening, he could not have
failed to perceive that Mrs. Monte Irvin was feverishly preoccupied with
matters having no relation to dinner and the theatre. But his private
suspicions grew only the more acute.

"Then if the dinner is not off," he said, "may I come along and wait for
you?"

"At Kazmah's?" asked Mrs. Irvin. "Certainly." She turned to Sir Lucien.
"Shall you wait? It isn't much use as I'm dining with Quentin."

"If I do not intrude," replied the baronet, "I will accompany you as far
as