point?"

"Such was my impression."

"H'm, quite impossible. And is this sort of thing constant, Sir
Charles?"

"It has been for some time past."

"Anything else?"

"One very notable thing, Mr. Harley. I was actually assaulted
less than a week ago within sight of my own house."

"Indeed! Tell me of this." Paul Harley became aware of an
awakening curiosity. Sir Charles Abingdon was not the type of man
who is lightly intimidated.

"I had been to visit a friend in the neighbourhood," Sir Charles
continued, "whom I am at present attending professionally,
although I am actually retired. I was returning across the
square, close to midnight, when, fortunately for myself, I
detected the sound of light, pattering footsteps immediately
behind me. The place was quite deserted at that hour, and
although I was so near home, the worst would have happened, I
fear, if my sense of hearing had been less acute. I turned in the
very instant that a man was about to spring upon me from behind.
He was holding in his hand what looked like a large silk
handkerchief. This encounter took place in the shadow of some
trees, and beyond the fact that my assailant was a small man, I