rd at Sheard. Sheard stared back
aggressively. There was that between them that cried out for open
conflict. Yet open conflict was impossible!

"Now then, you two!" Rohscheimer's coarse voice broke in, "what's the
good o' fightin' about it?"

But the atmosphere of uneasiness prevailed throughout the gilded salon.
Mrs. Rohscheimer, clever hostess though admittedly she was, found
herself hard put to it to keep up the spirits of her guests--or those of
her guests whose names had appeared upon the mysterious "second notice."

Lady Mary Evershed and Sir Richard Haredale sat under a drooping palm
behind a charming statuette representing Pandora in the familiar
attitude with the casket.

"It was through that door, yonder," said Haredale, pointing, "that the
masked man came."

"Yes," assented the girl. "I was over there--by the double doors."

"You were," replied Haredale; "I saw you first of all, when I looked
up!"

A short silence fell, then:

"Do you know," said Lady Mary, "I cannot sympathise with any of the
people who lost their property. They were all of them people who never
gave a penny away in their lives! In fact, Mr. Rohscheimer's particular
set are all dreadfully mean! When you come to think of it, isn't it
funny how everybody visits here?"

When he came to think of it, Haredale did not find it amusing in the
slightest degree. Julius Rohscheimer was an octopus whose tentacles were
fastened upon the heart of society. Haredale was so closely in the coils
that, short of handing in his papers, he had no alternative but to
appear as Rohscheimer's social _alter ego_. Lord and Lady Vignoles were
regular visitors to the house in Park Lane; and although the Marquess of
Evershed did not actually visit there, he countenanced the appearance of
his daughter, chaperoned by Mrs. Wellington Lacey, at the millionaire's
palace. Moreover, Haredale knew why!

What a wondrous power is gold!

Haredale was watching the fleeting expressions which crossed Lady Mary's
beautiful face as, with a little puzzled frown, she glanced about the
room.

Baron Hague came to make his _adieux_. He was a man badly frightened.
When finally he departed, Julius Rohscheimer conducted him downstairs.

"Take care of yourself, Hague," he said with anxiety. "First thing in
the morning I should put the parcel in safe deposit till it's wanted."

The Baron assured him that he should follow his advice.

Outside, in Park Lane, a taxi-cab was waiting