CHAPTER III

The sun was shining into his bedroom when Philip Romilly was awakened the
next morning by a discreet tapping at the door. He sat up in bed and
shouted "Come in." He had no occasion to hesitate for a moment. He knew
perfectly well where he was, he remembered exactly everything that had
happened. The knocking at the door was disquieting but he faced it
without a tremor. The floor waiter appeared and bowed deferentially.

"There is a gentleman on the telephone wishes to speak to you, sir," he
announced. "I have connected him with the instrument by your side."

"To speak with me?" Philip repeated. "Are you quite sure?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Douglas Romilly he asked for. He said that his name was
Mr. Gayes, I believe."

The man left the room and Philip took up the receiver. For a moment he
sat and thought. The situation was perplexing, in a sense ominous, yet
it had to be faced. He held the instrument to his ear.

"Hullo? Who's that?" he enquired.

"That Mr. Romilly?" was the reply, in a man's pleasant voice. "Mr.
Douglas Romilly?"

"Yes!"

"Good! I'm Gayes--Mr. Gayes of Gayes Brothers. My people wrote me last