at
man's acquaintance!"

Helen stared at her friend as though she suspected the latter's sanity.

"I am afraid I do not understand at all," she said, breathlessly.

"I am positive that I do not," declared Leroux, who was as much
surprised as Helen. "In the first place I am not acquainted with this
cross-eyed being."

"You are... out of this!" cried Denise Ryland with a sweeping
movement of the left hand; "entirely... out of it! This is no MAN'S...
business."...

"But my dear Denise!" exclaimed Helen....

"I beseech you; I entreat you;... I ORDER... you to cultivate...
that... execrable... being."

"Perhaps," said Helen, with eyes widely opened, "you will condescend to
give me some slight reason why I should do anything so extraordinary and
undesirable?"

"Undesirable!" cried Denise. "On the contrary;... it is MOST ...
desirable! It is essential. The wretched... cross-eyed ... creature has
presumed to fall in love... with you."...

"Oh!" cried Helen, flushing, and glancing rapidly at Leroux, who now was
thoroughly interested, "please do not talk nonsense!"

"It is no... nonsense. It is the finger... of Providence. Do you know
where you can find... him?"

"Not exactly; but I have a shrewd suspicion," again she glanced in an
embarrassed way at Leroux, "that he will know where to find ME."

"Who is this presumptuous person?" inquired the novelist, leaning
forward, his dark blue eyes aglow with interest.

"Never mind," replied Denise Ryland, "you will know... soon enough.
In the meantime... as I am simply... starving, suppose we see about...
lunch?"

Moved by some unaccountable impulse, Helen extended her hand to Leroux,
who took it quietly in his own and held it, looking down at the slim
fingers as though he derived strength and healing from their touch.

"Poor boy," she said softly.

XXXIV

M. MAX REPORTS PROGRESS

Detective-Sergeant Sowerby was seated in Dunbar's room at New Scotland
Yard. Some days had elapsed since that critical moment when, all unaware
of the fact, they had stood within three yards of the much-wanted
Soames, in the fauteuils of the east-end music-hall. Every clue thus
far investigated had proved a cul-de-sac. Dunbar, who had literally been
working night and day, now began to show evidence of his giant toils.
The tawny eyes were as keen as ever, and the whole man as forceful as of
old, but in the intervals of conversation, his lids would droop wearily;
he would only arou