hue, the high dome's jaundiced aspect for London in autumn.

On!--on! John Steele moved; on!--on!--the traffic pounded, for the most
part in the opposite direction; a vast, never-ending source of sound, it
seemed to soothe momentarily his sense of insecurity. Time passed; he
had, apparently, evaded his pursuers; he told himself he might, after
all, meet the problem confronting him; meet and conquer. It would be a
hard battle; but once in that part of the city he was striving to reach,
he might find those willing to offer him shelter--low-born, miserable
wretches he had helped. He would not disdain their succor; the end
justified the way. In their midst, if anywhere in London, was the one
man in the world who could throw a true light on the events of the past;
enable him to---

Behind him some one followed; some one who drew ever nearer, with soft,
skulking steps which now he heard--

"Mr. Steele!" Even as he wheeled, his name was called out.

* * * * *




CHAPTER XVII

THE UNEXPECTED


Before the sudden fierce passion gleaming on John Steele's face, the