A DELICATE MISSION

Aynesworth was back in less than an hour. He carried under his arm a
brown paper parcel, the strings of which he commenced at once to
untie. Wingrave, who had been engrossed in the contents of his deed
box, watched him with immovable face.

"The tailor will be here at two-thirty," he announced, "and the other
fellows will follow on at half an hour's interval. The manicurist and
the barber are coming at six o'clock."

Wingrave nodded.

"What have you there?" he asked, pointing to the parcel.

"Cigars and cigarettes, and jolly good ones, too," Aynesworth
answered, opening a flat tin box, and smelling the contents
appreciatively. "Try one of these! The finest Turkish tobacco grown!"

"I don't smoke," Wingrave answered.

"Oh! You've got out of it, but you must pick it up again," Aynesworth
declared. "Best thing out for the nerves--sort of humanizes one, you
know!"

"Humanizes one, does it?" Wingrave remarked softly. "Well, I'll try!"

He took a cigarette from the box, curtly inviting Aynesworth to do the
same.