you referred are one and the same?"

"It is not so, Mr. Harley," returned Sir Charles in a tired
voice. "Nothing so simple. I realize more than ever that I must
arrange my facts in some sort of historical order. Therefore I
ask you again: will you dine with me to-night?"

"With pleasure," replied Harley, promptly. "I have no other
engagement."

That his ready acceptance had immensely relieved the troubled
mind of Sir Charles was evident enough. His visitor stood up. "I
am not prone to sickly fancies, Mr. Harley," he said. "But a
conviction has been growing upon me for some time that I have
incurred, how I cannot imagine, but that nevertheless I have
incurred powerful enmity. I trust our evening's counsel may
enable you, with your highly specialized faculties, to detect an
explanation."

And it was instructive to note how fluently he spoke now that he
found himself temporarily relieved of the necessity of confessing
the source of his mysterious fears.



CHAPTER II. THE SIXTH SENSE

Paul Harley stepped into his car in Chancery Lane. "Drive in the
direction of Hyde Park Corner," he directed the chauffeur. "Go
along the Strand."