eath or bludgeoned him, it did not matter, the antipathy
was there, and it was powerful.

At the corner of Northumberland Avenue an idea came to him. This
Rochester belonged to several clubs, why not go and have luncheon at one
of them on credit? It would save him for the moment from returning to
the door towards which Fate was shepherding him, and he might be able to
pick up some extra wrinkles about himself and his position. The idea was
indicative of the daring of the man, though there was little enough
danger in it. He was sure of passing muster at a club, since he had done
so at home. He carried the names of two of Rochester's clubs in his
mind, the Pelican and the Senior Conservative. The latter seemed the
more stodgy, the least likely to offer surprises in the way of shoulder
clapping, irresponsible parties who might want to enter into general
conversation.

He chose it, asked a policeman for directions, and made for Pall Mall.

Here another policeman pointed out to him the building he was in search
of.

It stood on the opposite side of the way, a building of grey stone, vast
and serious of feature, yet opulent and hinting of the best in all
things relative to comfort.

It was historical. Disraeli had come down those steps, and the great
Lord Salisbury had gone up them. Men, to enter this place, had to be
born, not made, and even these selected ones had to put their names down
at birth, if they wished for any chance of lunching there before they
lost their teeth and hair.

It took twenty-one years for the elect to reach this place, and on the
way they were likely to be slain by black balls.

Victor Jones just crossed the road and went up the steps.

CHAPTER VII

LUNCHEON

He had lunched at the Constitutional with a chance acquaintance picked
up on his first week in London, so he knew something of the ways of
English clubs, yet the vast hall of this place daunted him for a moment.

However, the club servants seeming to know him, and recognising that
indecision is the most fatal weakness of man, he crossed the hall, and
seeing some gentlemen going up the great staircase he followed to a door
in the first landing.

He saw through the glass swing doors that this was the great luncheon
room of the club, and having made this discovery he came downstairs
again where good fortune, in the form of a bald headed man without hat
or stick, coming through a passage way, indicated the cloak room to him.