a double portion of caution and a triple one of reserve, and instead of
answering the question he took a leisurely look at the questioner. He saw
before him a tall, good-looking, irreproachably attired man of from
thirty to thirty-five years of age, whose dark eyes were ablaze with
excitement, whose equally dark, carefully trimmed moustache did not
conceal the agitation of the lips beneath. Mr. Franklin Fullaway, in
spite of his broad shoulders and excellent muscular development, was
evidently a highly strung, nervous, sensitive gentleman; nothing could be
plainer than that he had travelled from town in a state of great mental
activity which was just arriving at boiling-point. Everything about his
movements and gestures denoted it--the way in which he removed his hat,
laid aside his stick and gloves, ran his fingers through his dark, curly
hair, and--more than anything--looked at Marshall Allerdyke. But
Allerdyke had a habit of becoming cool and quiet when other men grew
excited and emotional, and he glanced at his visitor with seeming
indifference.

"Mr. Fullaway, I suppose?" he said, phlegmatically. "Aye, to be sure! Sit
you down, Mr. Fullaway. Will you take anything?--it's a longish ride from
London, and I daresay you'd do with a drink, what?"

"Nothing, nothing, thank you, Mr. Allerdyke," answered Fullaway,
obviously surprised by the other's coolness. "I had lunch on the train."

"Very convenient, that," observed Allerdyke. "I can remember when there
wasn't a chance of it. Aye--and what might this be that you're asking
about, now, Mr. Fullaway? What do you refer to?"

Fullaway, after a moment's surprised look at the Yorkshireman's stolid
face, elevated his well-marked eyebrows and shook his head. Then he edged