alled me on one
side, took me into a private office, and showed me a newspaper. As
soon as I had read the account, I was interviewed by an inspector from
Scotland Yard. Ever since then I have been followed about by reporters."

The young man whistled softly.

"Say, Penelope!" he exclaimed. "Who was this fellow, anyhow, and what
were you doing lunching with him?"

"That doesn't matter," she answered. "You don't tell me all your
secrets, Mr. Dicky Vanderpole, and it isn't necessary for me to tell you
all mine, even if we are both foreigners in a strange country. The poor
fellow isn't going to lunch with any one else in this world. I suppose
you are thinking what an indiscreet person I am, as usual?"

The young man considered the matter for a moment.

"No," he said; "I didn't understand that he was the sort of person
you would have been likely to have taken lunch with. But that isn't my
affair. Have you seen the second edition?"

The girl shook her head.

"Haven't I told you that I never read the papers? I only saw what they
showed me in at the Carlton."

"The Press Association have cabled to America, but no one seems to be
able to make out exactly who the fellow is. His letter to the captain of
the steamer was from the chairman of the company, and his introduction
to the manager of the London and North Western Railway Company was from
the greatest railway man in the world. Mr. Hamilton Fynes must have
been a person who had a pretty considerable pull over there. Curiously
enough, though, only the name of the man was mentioned in them; nothing
about his business, or what he was doing over on this side. He was
simply alluded to as 'Mr. Hamilton Fynes--the gentleman bearing this
communication.' I expect, after all, that you know more about him than
any one."

She shook her head.

"What I know," she said, "or at least most of it, I am going to
tell you. A few years ago he was a clerk in a Government office in
Washington. He was steady in those days, and was supposed to have a
head. He used to write me occasionally. One day he turned up in London
quite unexpectedly. He said that he had come on business, and whatever
his business was, it took him to St. Petersburg and Berlin, and then
back to Berlin again. I saw quite a good deal of him that trip."

"The dickens you did!" he muttered.

Miss Penelope Morse laughed softly.

"Come, Dicky," she said, "don't pretend to be jealous. You're an
outrageous flirt, I know,