"Perhaps," Norgate assented. "Meanwhile, even a month away from London
seems to have brought a fresh set of people here. Who is the tall, thin
young man with the sunburnt face? He seems familiar, somehow, but I can't
place him."

"He is a sailor," she told him. "Captain Baring his name is."

"Friend of yours?"

She looked at him sidewise.

"Why do you ask?"

"Jealousy," Norgate sighed, "makes one observant. You were lunching with
him in the Carlton Grill. You came in with him to the club this
afternoon."

"Sherlock Holmes!" she murmured. "There are other men in the club with
whom I lunch--even dine."

Norgate glanced across the room. Baring was playing bridge at a table
close at hand, but his attention seemed to be abstracted. He looked often
towards where Mrs. Benedek sat. There was a restlessness about his manner
scarcely in keeping with the rest of his appearance.

"One misses a great deal," Norgate regretted, "through being only an
occasional visitor here."

"As, for instance?"