"For E. P. K."

The initial K! Was the lady Digby's wife? That was the suspicion which at
once fell upon me, and by which I became convinced.

At half-past one o'clock I let myself into my own flat in Albemarle
Street. The faithful Haines, who had been a marine wardroom servant in
the navy before entering my employ, was awaiting me.

"The telephone bell rang ten minutes ago, sir," he said. "Sir Digby
Kemsley wishes to speak to you."

"Very well!" I replied. "You can go to bed."

The man placed my tray with whisky and soda upon the little table near my
chair, as was his habit, and, wishing me good-night, retired.

I went to the telephone, and asked for Digby's number.

After a few seconds a voice, which at first I failed to recognise,
replied to mine:

"I say, Royle; I'm so sorry to disturb you, old chap, but could you
possibly come back here at once?"

"What?" I asked, very surprised. "Is it so very important? Can't it wait
till to-morrow?"

"No, unfortunately it can't. It's most imperative that I should see you.
Something has happened. Do come!" he begged. "But don't attract
attention--you understand!"

"Something happened!" I echoed. "What?"

"That woman. Come at once--do, there's a good fellow. Will you--for my
sake and hers?"

The mention of the woman decided me, so I replied "All right!" and hung
up the receiver.

Within half an hour I alighted in Courtfield Gardens and walked up
Harrington Gardens to the door of my friend's house, which I saw was
already ajar in anticipation of my arrival.

Closing the door noiselessly, in order not to attract the attention of
the alert porter who lived in the basement, I crept up the carpeted
stairs to the door of the flat, which I found also ajar.

Having closed the door, I slipped into the hall and made my way to the
warm, cosy room I had left earlier that night.

The door was closed, and without ceremony I turned the handle.

I threw it open laughingly in order to surprise my friend, but next
instant halted in amazement upon the threshold.

I stood there breathless, staring in speechless wonder, and drawing back.

"I'm really very sorry!" I exclaimed. "I thought Sir Digby was here!"

The man who had risen from his chair and bowed when I opened the door was
about the same build, but, apparently, a trifle younger. He had iron-grey
hair and a pointed beard, but his face was more triangular, with higher
cheek-bones, and eyes more brilliant and deeper set.