of voices in the ante-room. He merely shrugged his
shoulders, and was ready with a genial greeting for the members who
trooped in. They were three in number--Mr. Montague Maynard, who had
motored in from the Manor House; Mr. Vernon Mallory, whose pale,
ascetic face reflected nothing of the interest inspired by finding
Nugent and Chermside, obviously to his shrewd vision, concluding a
heated discussion; and, lastly, but by no means least in his own
estimation, General Kruse, formerly of the Indian Staff Corps.

The last-mentioned was somewhat unkindly behind his back called "the
widow's Kruse," the nickname being founded on an erroneous rumour that
he was pursuing with matrimonial intentions the wealthy relict of a
London tradesman, who had settled in the neighbourhood. There was a
still more unkind version of the origin of the nickname, and one in
which there was, unfortunately, just a spice of truth--that he was
"always full." He was a big, burly man, with a rubicund complexion and a
voice like a thunderstorm.

The three gentlemen had chanced to meet on the doorstep of the club, and
the General had already commenced to impart to the other two an item of
news which he had picked up on the way from his house. He now began it
all over again for the benefit of the larger audience.

"Most extraordinary thing," he bellowed in his foghorn tones. "As I was
just telling these fellows, Nugent, I looked in at the _Plume Hotel_ as
I came through the town, and they're in a rare pucker there. A chap
staying at the hotel went out last night after dinner, saying he was
going for a walk, and he hasn't come back."

"Bolted to save paying his bill, I suppose," suggested Nugent, stealing
a glance at Leslie Chermside, who, however, was invisible behind his
newspaper. "It is not an unprecedented occurrence at a seaside resort
in the summer season, is it?"

But General Kruse with great gusto proceeded to demolish any such
commonplace theory. "It wasn't that," he roared. "The chap--Levison his
name was--had paid his charges pretty near up to the hilt. It is the
custom to render bills weekly, and as he had been at the _Plume_ a week
yesterday, his account was presented to him. He paid it like a shot.
There is only his last night's dinner owing for, and he has left luggage
that would square that twenty times over."

"I expect he will turn up before the day is over," said Nugent, with the
air of becoming bored with all this fuss about a st