!"

There was a new ring of friendliness in the hearty response which came
from every corner of the room.

"Goodnight, Ware!"

"So long, old fellow!"

"Good night, old chap!"

There was a little delay in the cloakroom while the attendant searched
for Philip's hat, which had been temporarily misplaced. Honeybrook, who
had followed the two men out of the room, fumbling for a moment in his
locker and, coming over to Philip, dropped something into the latter's
overcoat pocket.

"Rather like a scene in a melodrama, isn't it, Ware," he whispered, "but
I know a little about Sylvanus Power. It's only a last resource, mind."

CHAPTER X

Philip fetched his hat, and the two men stepped out on to the pavement. A
servant in quiet grey livery held open the door of an enormous motor car.
Sylvanus Power beckoned his companion to precede him.

"Home," he told the man, "unless," he added, turning to Philip, "you'd
rather go to your rooms?"

"I am quite indifferent," Philip replied.

They drove off in absolute silence, a silence which remained unbroken
until they passed through some elaborate iron gates and drew up before a
mansion in Fifth Avenue.

"You'll wait," Sylvanus Power ordered, "and take this gentleman home.
This way, sir."

The doors rolled open before them. Philip caught a vista of a wonderful
hall, with a domed roof and stained glass windows, and a fountain playing
from some marble statuary at the further end. A personage in black took
his coat and hat. The door of a dining room stood open. A table, covered
with a profusion of flowers, was laid, and places set for two. Mr.
Sylvanus Power turned abruptly to a footman.

"You can have that cleared away," he directed harshly. "No supper will be
required."

He swung around and led the way into a room at the rear of the hall, a
room which, in comparison with Philip's confused impressions of the rest
of the place, was almost plainly furnished. There was a small oak
sideboard, upon which was set out whisky and soda and cigars; a great
desk, covered with papers, before which a young man was seated; two
telephone instruments and a phonograph. The walls were lined with books.
The room itself was long and narrow. Power turned to the young man.

"You can go to bed, George," he ordered. "Disconnect the telephones."

The young man gathered up some papers, locked the desk in silence, bowed
to his employer, and left the room without a word. Power waited until the
do