cheerful appointment to meet for
lunch, to motor to Brighton. It all sounds so harmless, and yet there
are the seeds of a conspiracy already sown. They hate me here, but they
know very well that wherever they went I should be around. I suppose
some day they'll get rid of me."

"More bunkum!" Tavernake muttered.

They stood in front of the door and passed through into the courtyard.
On their right, the interior of the smaller restaurant was shielded from
view by a lattice-work, covered with flowers and shrubs. Pritchard came
to a standstill at a certain point, and stooping down looked through.
He remained there without moving for what seemed to Tavernake an
extraordinarily long time. When he stood up again, there was a distinct
change in his face. He was looking more serious than Tavernake had ever
seen him. But for the improbability of the thing, Tavernake would have
thought that he had turned pale.

"My young friend," he said, "you've got to see me through this. You 've
a sort of fancy for Mrs. Wenham Gardner, I know. To-night you shall be
on her side."

"I don't want any more mysteries," Tavernake protested. "I'd rather go
home."

"It can't be done," Pritchard declared, taking his arm once more.
"You've got to see me through this. Come up to my rooms for a minute."

They entered the Court and ascended to the eighth floor. Pritchard
turned on the lights in his room, a plainly furnished and somewhat bare
apartment. From a cupboard he took out a pair of rubber-soled shoes and
threw them to Tavernake.

"Put those on," he directed.

"What are we going to do?" Tavernake asked.

"You are going to help me," Pritchard answered. "Take my word for it,
Tavernake, it's all right. I could tackle the job alone, but I'd rather
not. Now drink this whiskey and soda and light a cigarette. I shall be
ready in five minutes."

"But where are we going?" Tavernake demanded.

"You are going," Pritchard replied, "on an errand of chivalry. You are
going to become once more a rescuer of woman in distress. You are going
to save the life of your beautiful friend Elizabeth."

CHAPTER XXIV. CLOSE TO TRAGEDY

The actual words of greeting which passed between Elizabeth and the
man whose advent had caused her so much emotion were unimpressive. The
newcomer, with the tips of his fingers resting upon the tablecloth,
leaned slightly towards her. At close quarters, he was even more
unattractive than when Tavernake had first seen hi