reat
twilit square of the Horse Guards and the lamp-lit Mall.

He had entered the smoking-room lightly, almost jauntily; but--not a
doubt of it--he was tired--so tired that he shuffled his body twice
and thrice in the arm-chair before discovering the precise angle that
gave superlative comfort. . . .

'I beg your pardon, sir.'

Dick opened his eyes. A liveried footman stood over his chair, and
was addressing him.

'Eh? Did I ring? Yes, you may bring me a glass of liqueur brandy.
As quickly as possible, if you please; to tell the truth, George, I'm
not feeling very well.'

The man started at hearing his name, but made no motion to obey the
order.

'I beg your pardon, sir, but the secretary wishes to see you in his
room.'

'The secretary? Mr Hood? Yes, certainly.' Dick rose. 'I--I am
afraid you must give me your arm, please. A giddiness--the ship's
motion, I suppose.'

The secretary was standing at his door in the great vestibule as Dick
came down the staircase on the man's arm.

'I beg your pardon,' he said, 'but may I have your name? The porter
does not recognise you, and I fear that I am equally at fault.'

'My name?'--with the same gesture that Mr Markham had used in the
little back parlour, Dick passed a hand over his eyes. He laughed,
and even to his own ears the laugh sounded vacant, foolish.

'Are you a member of the club, sir?'

'I--I thought I was.' The marble pillars of the atrium were swaying
about him like painted cloths, the tesselated pavement heaving and
rocking at his feet. 'Abominably stupid of me,' he muttered,
'unpardonable, you must think.'

The secretary looked at him narrowly, and decided that he was really
ill; that there was nothing in his face to suggest the impostor.

'Come into my room for a moment,' he said, and sent the footman
upstairs to make sure that no small property of the Club was missing.
'Here, drink down the brandy. . . . Feeling better? You are aware,
no doubt, that I might call in the police and have you searched?'

For a moment Dick did not answer, but stood staring with rigid eyes.
At length,--

'They--won't--find--what--I--want,' he said slowly, dropping out the
words one by one. The secretary now felt certain that here was a
genuine case of mental derangement. With such he had no desire to be
troubled; and so, the footman bringing word that nothing had been
stolen, he dismissed Dick to the street.

CHAPTER VI.

The brandy steadying