The visitor offered no acknowledgment to this flattering effusion; his
long fingers rubbed one another softly. He looked at the table, the
window, anywhere save at the proprietor of the establishment, then said:
"I saw by an advertisement in the morning papers that you had severed
your connection with the force and had opened this--a private
consultation bureau."

"Quite so!" The other looked momentarily embarrassed. "A little
friction--account of some case--unreliable witness that got tangled
up--They undertook to criticize me, after all my faithful service--" He
broke off. "Besides, the time comes when a man realizes he can do better
for himself by himself. I am now devoting myself to a small, but
strictly high-class," with an accent, "clientele."

Lord Ronsdale considered; when he spoke, his voice was low, but it did
not caress the ear. "You know John Steele, of course?"

The ferret eyes snapped. "That I do, your Lordship. What of him?"
quickly.

The caller made no reply but tapped the floor lightly with his cane,
and--"What of him?" repeated Mr. Gillett.

Lord Ronsdale's glance turned; it had a strange brightness. His next
question was irrelevant. "Ever think much about the _Lord Nelson,_
Gillett?"

"She isn't a boat one's apt to forget, after what happened, your
Lordship," was the answer. "And if I do say it, her passengers were of