ssibly have to tell me that concerns my
future happiness? Nothing! And yet, if she should really be
remorseful--By Jove! I _will_ go! It can do no harm. But if I find that
she has deceived me, and is playing the old game, by heavens! I'll--"

Passion choked his utterance, and he concluded the sentence with a
mental threat. He suddenly remembered that he had promised to meet Sir
Lucius Chesney at eight o'clock that night.

"I can't do it," he thought. "I'm not fit to talk to any man in this
mood. And he would probably detain me more than half an hour. No, I'll
write a short note to Sir Lucius, putting off the engagement, and leave
it at Morley's."

Whether his decision was a wise one or not, was a question that Jack did
not attempt to analyze. He proceeded to carry his plans into effect. It
was then seven o'clock, and it took him twenty minutes to write the note
to Sir Lucius and exchange his borrowed clothes for a dark suit of his
own. He put Diane's letter into a side pocket, so that he might be sure
of the address, and then left the house. He did not take a cab,
preferring to walk.

He handed the note in at Morley's Hotel, and steered across Trafalgar
square. At the top of the Haymarket, to his chagrin, he encountered
Jimmie Drexell, who urged him to have a drink at Scott's; he could not
well refuse, as it was nearly a fortnight since they had met.

A quarter of an hour slipped by. Jimmie asked a great many questions,
but Jack was preoccupied and uneasy, and scarcely answered them. He
finally tore himself away on the plea of an urgent engagement, and
promised to call at the Albany the next day; he was reluctant to confide
in his friend. A distant clock was striking eight-thirty as he turned up
the Quadrant.

Regent street was noisy and crowded, but Beak street was gloomy and
misty, depressing and lonely, in contrast. Jack found the right number,
and as he hesitated before the house--the door of which was partly
open--a man came abruptly out. He was tall and slim, dressed in dark
clothes, and with a soft hat that concealed all of his features except
an aquiline nose and a black beard and mustache. He stared hard at Jack
for an instant, then strode rapidly off to the eastward and was lost in
the fog.

"A foreigner, from his actions," thought Jack.

He pushed the door open, and mounted a steep and narrow staircase.
Reaching the first landing, he saw a door on his left. At the bottom
a faint streak of light was