on to the exalted sphere of politics. Now don't you
breathe a word of this, for it's professional, but the Spanish
secret-service agents have taken the title of your novel as their
password. The city is watched by our own special corps of detectives,
and the instant 'The Purple Kangaroo' is used in a suspicious sense we
arrest the spies and unravel the plot."

"But, good heavens, man! You don't understand--" began Banborough.

"I understand it all. I tell you the _Daily Leader_ will not shrink from
its duty. It'll leave no stone unturned to hound the offenders down. I
dare say they may be making arrests even now, and once started, we'll
never pause till every Spanish sympathiser who has knowledge of the plot
is under lock and key."

"Stop! Stop!" cried Cecil. "You don't know what you're doing!"

"Oh, trust me for that, and think of the boom your book'll get. I'll
make it my special care. I tell you 'The Purple Kangaroo' will be all
the rage."

"But you're making a ghastly mistake," insisted the author. "You must
listen to me--"

"Can't!" cried Marchmont, springing up as the sound of shouts and
clanging bells fell upon his ear. "There's a fire! See you later!" and
he dashed out of the club and was gone.

Cecil sank back in his chair fairly paralysed.

"Good heavens! Suppose any of the company should be suspected or
arrested! Supposing--"

"A gentleman to see you, sir," said a page at his elbow.

"Show him in!" cried Banborough, fearing the worst, as he read Tybalt
Smith's name on the card.

There was no need to have given the message. The actor was at the page's
heels, dishevelled, distraught.

"Do you know we're taken for Spanish spies?" he gasped.

"Yes, yes; I've just heard--"

"But they've arrested--"

"Not one of your companions--Spotts, Kerrington, or Mill?"

"No," said the tragedian, shaking his head, "they've arrested Miss
Arminster."

CHAPTER III.

IN WHICH CECIL BANBOROUGH DRIVES A BLACK MARIA.

Cecil Banborough's feelings can be better imagined than described at the
announcement of the calamity which had befallen Miss Arminster. The
winsome ways of the charming Violet had impressed the young man more
deeply than he knew until he was brought face to face with a realisation
of the miseries to which his own folly had exposed her.

"Where have they taken her?" he demanded of Smith as soon as his
consternation could find expression.

"She's at the police station round the corner