y
debts assigned to him. He gave me to understand that he had paid them."

Levison emitted a tantalizing laugh. "That's where the wily Hindoo had
you on toast," he rejoined. "A wise precaution in case you should for
any reason throw him over, as it begins to look as if you meant to. Your
little affair with the lady seems to blow hot and cold, Mr. Chermside,
which is why I'm pressing you a bit. Not that I'm 'ard-'earted by any
means. Take till to-morrow night to think it over, and then, if you can
give me a definite assurance that it will be all right in a week or so,
I'll 'old my 'and."

Leslie Chermside breathed a sigh of relief. "Very well," he said, "by
that time I may have news for you. Where shall we meet? It had better be
somewhere where there is no risk of our being overheard."

The Jew glanced round the lonely landscape. Even at mid-day the marsh
was deserted in favour of the superior attractions of the shore, the
golf links, and the tennis field.

"We couldn't better this," he said. "There'll be a moon up, and there
won't be a soul about at ten o'clock."

"That will suit excellently. I will meet you here at ten o'clock
to-morrow night," replied Chermside. "And now as I am going on to lunch
at the Manor House----"

"You will be glad to get rid of yours truly," Mr. Levison interrupted.
"Righto! Mr. Chermside. I'll go back the way we came, hoping that you
will enjoy a sumptuous meal, and afterwards get a chance to put in some
vicarious courtship. So long."

He turned on his heel, waving a be-ringed hand of insanitary aspect, and
Leslie Chermside strode forward along the grassy footpath. His brows
were knitted in a frown, and from time to time he shook his broad
shoulders as though to free himself from an influence that oppressed the
natural vigour of his strong frame.

He was well aware that he stood at the parting of the ways, with the
disadvantage of not knowing where either of the two roads open to him
would lead, except that they pointed to dishonour and misery. It was
nearly three months now since he had been summoned to the Maharajah's
presence in the tawdry palace at Sindkhote, and had been offered by his
employer a way of escape from the bonds that held him in exile, in a
position little better than that of a tinselled head flunkey--an
appanage of Bhagwan Singh's barbaric splendour.

The task set him had been revolting enough; it had filled him with
loathing for the gross libertine who was his t