r all, she would appear. Perhaps she already knew,
by some secret means, of Sir Digby's flight, and if so, she would not
keep the appointment.

I strolled up and down the pavement, for a policeman, noticing me hanging
about, had gruffly ordered me to "Move on!" He, perhaps, suspected me of
"loitering for the purpose of committing a felony."

Everywhere my eager eyes searched to catch sight of some person in black
wearing a spray of yellow blossom, but among that hurrying crowd there
was not one woman, young or old, wearing that flower so reminiscent of
the Riviera.

I entered the station, and for some moments stood outside the telephone
box numbered 4. Then, with failing heart, I turned and went along to the
spacious booking-hall, where the lifts were ever descending with their
crowds of passengers.

Would she ever come? Or, was my carefully planned errand entirely in
vain?

I could not have mistaken the date, for I had made a note of it in my
diary directly on my return from Harrington Gardens, and before I had
learned of the tragedy. No. It now wanted a quarter to nine and she had
not appeared. At nine I would relinquish my vigil, and assume my normal
identity. I was sick to death of lounging there in the cutting east wind
with the smoke-blackened tin bottle in my hand.

I had been idly reading an advertisement on the wall, and turned, when my
quick eyes suddenly caught sight of a tall, well-dressed woman of middle
age, who, standing with her back to me, was speaking to the
telephone-operator.

I hurried eagerly past her, when my heart gave a great bound. In the
corsage of her fur-trimmed coat she wore the sign for which I had been
searching for an hour--a sprig of mimosa!

With my heart beating quickly in wild excitement, I drew back to watch
her movements.

She had asked the operator for a number, paid him, and was told that she
was "on" at box No. 4.

I saw her enter, and watched her through the glass door speaking
vehemently with some gesticulation. The answer she received over the wire
seemed to cause her the greatest surprise, for I saw how her dark,
handsome face fell when she heard the response.

In a second her manner changed. From a bold, commanding attitude she at
once became apprehensive and appealing. Though I could not hear the words
amid all that hubbub and noise, I knew that she was begging the person at
the other end to tell her something, but was being met with a flat
refusal.

I saw