stery. He was vaguely supposed
to have inherited a small patrimony from an adventurous uncle who had
died in America, and to whom he sometimes jocularly referred as his
"avuncular oof-bird." As a matter of fact, there was a substratum of
truth in this, to the extent of about a hundred a year, but as Mr.
Nugent usually spent L2,000 in that period some other explanation was
needed.

He could have furnished one readily, had he been so minded. He lived,
and lived well, upon the best asset with which kindly Nature can endow
a man not otherwise provided for--a clever, subtle brain, prompt to
seize every chance that may come to it, and, failing such fortuitous
aid, equally prompt to manufacture the chances for itself. To put it
plainly, Travers Nugent lived upon his wits. A soldier of fortune, he
belonged to the commissioned ranks of the great predatory army which
sacrifices nothing to scruple, to compassion, or to honour. As cruel and
as secret as the grave, he made a very good thing of it, and on its
profits fed several unholy vices which no one knew that he possessed.

For the last three months he had been acting as self-appointed
bear-leader to the arrogant Indian prince who had gone out into the
winter garden with the loveliest of all the budding debutantes of the
year upon his arm. There are many ways in which a not too scrupulous man
of the world can be of use to an Oriental potentate whose civilization
is only skin deep, and Travers Nugent had already established many
claims upon the exalted visitor's gratitude.

His prophecy was quickly verified. Black thunder lowering on his swarthy
brows, the Maharajah of Sindkhote came back through the window into the
ball-room, and he came alone. Another dance was in progress now, but the
Eastern barbarian, under the veneer of Western polish, had broken loose.
Like one demented, yet with some remnants of savage dignity clinging to
him, he strode straight across the floor to where Nugent still leaned
against the pillar. The amused dancers who had to steer clear of his
imperious path forgave much for the priceless jewels in his turban.

"Come away before I kill some one, Nugent," he said in a furious
undertone. "Come round to my rooms at once. I must consult you on a
matter of the utmost importance, in which I need your help."

Travers Nugent's help was always at the disposal of those who were
willing, or could be forced, to pay for it. With the adroit tact for
which he was not