tions. He read his own writing through very carefully, then
folded the paper in half and handed it to Luke.

"This," he said, "will make everything all right. And I'll call again
in a couple of hours' time. You won't forget the cook?"

"No, I won't forget the cook."

When the doctor had taken his leave, Luke stood for a moment quietly
in the library: he folded up the medical certificate which he had
received at the hands of Doctor Newington, and carefully put it away
in his pocket-book.

"You won't forget the cook?"

I don't think that ever in his life before had Luke realized the
trivialities of life as he did at this moment. Remember that he was
quite man of the world enough, quite sufficiently sensible and shrewd
and English, to have noticed that the degree of familiarity in the
doctor's manner had passed the borderland of what was due to himself;
the tone of contemptuous indifference savoured of impertinence. And
there was something more than that.

Last night when Luke wandered up and down outside the brilliantly
lighted windows of the Danish Legation, trying to catch a few muffled
sounds of the voice he so passionately loved to hear, he heard the
first rumours that an awful crime had been committed which, for good
or ill, would have such far-reaching bearings on his own future; but
he had also caught many hints, vague suggestions full of hidden
allusions, of which the burden was: "Seek whom the crime benefits."

Luke de Mountford was no fool. Men of his stamp--we are accustomed to
call them commonplace--take a very straight outlook on life. They are
not hampered by the psychological problems which affect the moral
balance of a certain class of people of to-day; they have no sexual
problems to solve. Theirs is a steady, wholesome, and clean life, and
the mirrors of nature have not been blurred by the breath of
psychologists.

Luke had never troubled his head about his neighbour's wife, about his
horse, or his ass, or anything that is his; therefore his vision about
the neighbour himself had remained acute.

Although I must admit that at this stage the thought that he might
actually be accused of a low and sordid crime never seriously entered
his head, he nevertheless felt that suspicion hovered round him, that
some people at any rate held it possible that since he would benefit
by the crime, he might quite well have contemplated it.

The man Travers thought so certainly; the doctor did not deem it
impo