ut you can trust me, sir. I'll say nothing. Sir Digby's
a friend of yours."

"Yes, a great friend, and I feel that he's falsely accused of that
terrible affair which happened at his flat," I said. "Did he promise to
call again?"

"He scribbled this note for you," Haines said, taking up a letter from my
blotting-pad.

With trembling fingers I tore it open, and upon a sheet of my own
notepaper read the hurriedly written words--

"Sorry you were out. Wanted to see you most urgently. Keep your
promise at Piccadilly Circus, and know nothing concerning me. My
movements are most uncertain, as something amazing has occurred
which prevents me making explanation. I will, however, send you
my address in secret as soon as I have one. I trust you, Teddy,
for you are my only friend.

"Digby."

I read the note several times, and gathered that he was in hourly fear of
arrest. Every corner held for him a grave danger. Yet what could have
occurred that was so amazing and which prevented him speaking the truth.

That I had not been in when he called was truly unfortunate. But by the
fact that he was in clerical attire I surmised that he was living in
obscurity--perhaps somewhere in the suburbs. London is the safest city in
the world in which to hide, unless, of course, creditors or plaintiffs
make it necessary to seek peace "beyond the jurisdiction of the Court."

Many a good man is driven to the latter course through no fault of his
own, but by the inexorable demands of the Commissioners of Income Tax, or
by undue pressure from antagonistic creditors. Every English colony on
the Continent contains some who have fallen victims--good, honest
Englishmen--who are dragging out the remainder of their lives in
obscurity, men whose names are perhaps household words, but who conceal
them beneath one assumed.

Digby would probably join the throng of the exiled. So I could do naught
else than wait for his promised message, even though I was frantic in my
anxiety to see and to question him regarding the reason of the presence
of my well-beloved at his flat on that fatal night.

Imagine my bitter chagrin that I had not been present to receive him! It
might be many months before I heard from him again, for his promise was
surely very vague.

Presently I took the glass very carefully from my pocket, unwrapped it
from its paper, and locked it in a little cabin