ho was not a rogue, but a victim of
untoward circumstances."

"Really, my dear fellow," I said, "you speak in enigmas. What do you
mean--you intend what?"

"That matters nothing to you, Royle," was his hoarse reply. "I merely ask
for your continued friendship. I ask that you will treat my successor
here in the exact manner in which you have treated me--that you will
become his firm friend--and that you will perform for me one great and
most important service."

"Your successor! Who will succeed you? You have no son!"

"No, I have no male relation whatever," he replied. "But we were speaking
of the favour I am begging of you to perform for me. On the fourteenth of
January I shall not be here, but it is highly necessary that on that
evening, at eight o'clock, a secret message should be delivered into the
hands of a certain lady--a message from myself. Will you do it?"

"Certainly. Are you going abroad again?"

"I--well, I can hardly tell. I may be dead by then--who knows?" And he
smiled grimly.

He returned to his writing-table, unlocked a drawer, and took therefrom a
letter which was carefully sealed with black wax.

"Now, listen," he said, holding the letter in his fingers; "on the night
of the fourteenth, just at eight o'clock precisely, go to the Piccadilly
tube station, stand at the telephone box numbered four on the Haymarket
side, when a lady in black will approach you and ask news of me. In
response you will give her this note. But there is a further condition:
you may be watched and recognised, therefore be extremely careful that
you are not followed on that day, and, above all, adopt some effective
disguise. Go there dressed as a working-man, I would suggest."

"That request, Kemsley, is certainly a very queer one," I remarked. "Is
she _the_ lady?"

He smiled, and I took that as an affirmative.

"You say she'll be dressed in black. Lots of ladies dress in black. I
might mistake her."

"Not very likely. I forgot to tell you that she will wear a small spray
of mimosa."

"Ah, that shows originality," I remarked. "Mimosa is not often worn on
the person."

"It will serve as a distinguishing mark." Then, after a pause, he added,
handing me the letter: "There is one further request I want to make--or,
at least, I want you to give me your promise, Royle. I ask you to make a
solemn vow to me that if any suspicion arises within your mind, that you
will believe nothing without absolute and decisive proof.