on either side were attached to the
adjustable windows; so that when Ho-Pin had raised the window, he had
also closed the blind! And these windows operated automatically, and
defied all M. Max's efforts to open them!

He was effectively boxed in and unable to form the slightest impression
of his surroundings. He threw himself back upon the soft cushions with
a muttered curse of vexation; but the mobile mouth was twisted into that
wryly humorous smile. Always, M. Max was a philosopher.

At the end of a drive of some twenty-five minutes or less, the car
stopped--the door was opened, and the radiant Gianapolis extended both
hands to the occupant.

"My dear M. Gaston!" he cried, "how glad I am to see you looking so
well! Hand me your bag, I beg of you!"

M. Max placed the bag in the extended hand of Gianapolis, and leapt out
upon the pavement.

"This way, my dear friend!" cried the Greek, grasping him warmly by the
arm.

The Frenchman found himself being led along toward the head of the car;
and, at the same moment, Said reversed the gear and backed away. M. Max
was foiled in his hopes of learning the number of the limousine.

He glanced about him wonderingly.

"You are in Temple Gardens, M. Gaston," explained the Greek, "and here,
unless I am greatly mistaken, comes a disengaged taxi-cab. You will
drive to your hotel?"

"Yes, to my hotel," replied M. Max.

"And whenever you wish to avail yourself of your privilege, and pay
a second visit to the establishment presided over by Mr. Ho-Pin, you
remember the number?"

"I remember the number," replied M. Max.

The cab hailed by Gianapolis drew up beside the two, and M. Max entered
it.

"Good morning, M. Gaston."

"Good morning, Mr. Gianapolis."

XXXIII

LOGIC VS. INTUITION

And now, Henry Leroux, Denise Ryland and Helen Cumberly were speeding
along the Richmond Road beneath a sky which smiled upon Leroux's
convalescence; for this was a perfect autumn morning which ordinarily
had gladdened him, but which saddened him to-day.

The sun shone and the sky was blue; a pleasant breeze played upon his
cheeks; whilst Mira, his wife, was...

He knew that he had come perilously near to the borderland beyond which
are gibbering, moving things: that he had stood upon the frontier of
insanity; and realizing the futility of such reflections, he struggled
to banish them from his mind, for his mind was not yet healed--and he
must be whole, be sane, if he would