* * * * *

At about the same moment that Chief Inspector Sheffield was trying to
get used to the idea of the notorious Severac Bablon's having actually
officiated as best man at the wedding of the only daughter of the
Marquess of Evershed, Mr. Thomas Sheard also had that astounding fact
brought home to him.

For, in the wide publicity of Eccleston Square, the observed of many
curious observers, Zoe Oppner stood shaking hands with this master of
audacity.

Sheard joined them hurriedly.

"This is the height of indiscretion!" he exclaimed, glancing
apprehensively about him. "You compromise others----"

Severac Bablon checked him with a quiet smile.

"Have I ever compromised another?"

"But now you cannot avoid doing so. Sheffield is inside! What madness
brings you here?"

"In the absence of the Hon. Maurice Anerly, I acted as Haredale's best
man."

Sheard literally gasped.

"But you are not----"

"A Christian? My religious beliefs, Sheard, do not preclude my
attendance at a wedding ceremony. Some day I may explain this to you."

"You must have been recognised!"

"Who knows Severac Bablon?"

"At least four people now in that house!"

"Possibly. But no one of those four has seen me. No one of them was
present at the ceremony; and, I assure you, I made myself scarce
afterwards."

"You must hurry. You have been traced----"

"Never fear; I shall hurry. But, before I go, Sheard, take this
envelope. It is the last 'scoop' that I have to offer to the _Gleaner_,
but it is the biggest of all! Good-bye."

"Do I understand that you are leaving England?"

So sincere was the emotion in the pressman's voice that Severac Bablon's
own had changed when he replied:

"We may never meet again; I cannot tell."

He laid his hands upon the other's shoulders in a characteristic
gesture, and to Sheard, as he met the glance of those fine eyes, this
was no criminal flying from justice; rather, a ruler of peoples, an
enthusiast, a fanatic perhaps, but a royal man--and his friend.

"Good-bye!" said Severac Bablon, and clasped Sheard's hand in both his
own.

He turned to Zoe Oppner, who, very pale, was glancing back at the house.

"Good-bye again!"

A cab waited, and Severac Bablon, lighting a cigarette, leapt in and was
driven away. Sheard did not hear his directions to the man; and Zoe
Oppner left him abruptly and ran into the house again. Before he had
time to move, to collect his