As he passed down the hill and by the side of the Green he was aware of
being covertly watched by many eyes. He saw P.C. Robinson peering from
behind a curtained window. Siddle, the chemist, came to the shop door,
and looked after him. Hobbs, the butcher, ceased sharpening a knife and
gazed out. Tomlin, landlord of the Hare and Hounds Inn, surveyed him from
the "snug."

These things were not gracious. Indeed, they were positively maddening.
He went home, gave an emphatic order that no one, except Miss Martin, if
she called, was to be admitted and savagely buried himself in a treatise
on earth-tides.

But that day of events had not finished for him yet. He had, perforce,
eaten a good meal, and was thinking of going to the post office in order
to clear up an undoubted misapprehension in Mr. Martin's mind, when
Minnie Bates came with a card.

"If you please, sir," said the girl, "this gentleman is very pressing.
He says he's sure you'll give him an interview when you see his name."

So Grant looked, and read:--


MR. ISIDOR G. INGERMAN

_Prince's Chambers, London, W._