iends
were seated. He approached them without a word. Noel Bridges ventured
upon a greeting.

"Coming to join us, Mr. Power?" he asked.

Sylvanus Power, if he heard the question, ignored it. His eyes had rested
upon Philip. He stood over the table now, looming before them, massive,
in his way awe-inspiring.

"Ware," he said, "I've been looking for you."

Instinctively Philip rose to his feet. Tall though he was, he had to look
up at the other man, and his slender body seemed in comparison like a
willow wand. Nevertheless, the light in his eyes was illuminative. There
was no shrinking away. He stood there with the air of one prepared to
welcome, to incite and provoke storm whatever might be brewing.

"I have been to your rooms," Sylvanus Power went on. "They knew nothing
about you there."

"They wouldn't," Philip replied. "I go where I choose and when I choose.
What do you want with me?"

Conversation in the room was almost suspended. Those in the immediate
locality, well acquainted with the gossip of the city, held the key to
the situation. Every one for a moment, however, was spellbound. They felt
the coming storm, but they were powerless.

"I sought you out, Ware," Sylvanus Power continued, his harsh voice
ringing through the room, "to tell you what probably every other man here
knows except you. If you know it you're a fool, and I'm here to tell you
so."

"Have you been drinking?" Philip asked calmly.

"Maybe I have," Sylvanus Power answered, "but whisky can't cloud my brain
or stop my tongue. You're looking at my little toy here," he went on,
twirling in his right hand a heavy malacca cane with a leaden top. "I
killed a man with that once."

"The weapon seems sufficient for the purpose," Philip answered
indifferently.

"Any other man," Sylvanus Power went on, "would have sat in the chair for
that. Not I! You don't know as much of me as you need to, Merton Ware.
I'm no whippersnapper of a pen-slinger, earning a few paltry dollars by
writing doggerel for women and mountebanks to act. I've hewn my way with
my right arm and my brain, from the streets to the palace. They say that
money talks. By God! if it does I ought to shout, for I've more million
dollars than there are men in this room."

"Nevertheless," Philip said, growing calmer as he recognised the man's
condition, "you are a very insufferable fellow."

There had been a little murmur throughout the room at the end of Sylvanus
Power's last blata