o." . . . He turned to his
hostess. "I'm sorry to run away like this, Mrs. Smallwood, but--I'm a
busy man. . . ."

She rose at once; nothing would have induced her to forgo walking
through the restaurant with him. Later she would describe the progress
to her intimates in her usual staccato utterances, like a goat hopping
from crag to crag.

"My dear. . . . So thrilling. . . . He means wholesale murder. . . .
Told us so. . . . And there was a man close by, watching him all the
time. . . . A Government spy probably. . . . Do you think I shall be
arrested? . . . If only he allows Bill and me to escape when it
comes. . . . The revolution, I mean. . . . I think Monte is the
place. . . . But one never knows. . . . Probably the croupiers will
be armed with pistols, or something dreadful. . . . Except that if
it's the labouring classes who are rising, we ought to shoot the
croupiers. . . . It is so difficult to know what to do."

Vane turned to follow her, as she threaded her way between the tables,
and at that moment he saw Joan. The grey eyes were fixed on him
mockingly, and he felt as if everyone in the room must hear the sudden
thumping of his heart. With a murmured apology to his hostess, he left
her and crossed to Joan's table.

"This is an unexpected surprise," she remarked as he came up.

"Do you know Mr. Baxter--Captain Vane. . . ."

Vane looked curiously at the man who had invoked his late companion's
wrath. Then his glance fell on the bottle of Vichy in front of the
millionaire, and his jaw tightened.

"You left Blandford very unexpectedly, Miss Devereux," he said politely.

"Yes--I had to go North suddenly." She looked at him with a smile.
"You see--I was frightened. . . ."

"Frightened. . . ." murmured Vane.

"A friend of mine--a very great friend of mine--a girl, was in danger
of making a fool of herself." Her eyes were fixed on the band, and his
heart began to thump again.

"I trust the catastrophe was averted," he remarked.

"One never knows in these cases, does one?" she answered. He saw the
trace of a smile hover on her lips; then she turned to her companion.
"Captain Vane was one of the convalescents at Rumfold Hall," she
explained.

Mr. Baxter grunted. "Going over again soon?" he asked in a grating
voice.

"I'm on leave at present," said Vane briefly.

"Well, if you'll forgive my saying so," continued Baxter in his harsh
voice, "your luncheon companion to-day is a ge