"The dickens you did!" he muttered.

Miss Penelope Morse laughed softly.

"Come, Dicky," she said, "don't pretend to be jealous. You're an
outrageous flirt, I know, but you and I are never likely to get
sentimental about one another."

"Why not?" he grumbled. "We've always been pretty good pals,
haven't we?"

"Naturally," she answered, "or I shouldn't be here. Do you want
to hear anything more about Mr. Hamilton Fynes?"

"Of course I do," he declared.

"Well, be quiet, then, and don't interrupt," she said. "I knew
London well and he didn't. That is why, as I told you before, we
saw quite a great deal of one another. He was always very
reticent about his affairs, and especially about the business
which had taken him on the Continent. Just before he left,
however, he gave me--well, a hint."

"What was it?" the young man asked eagerly.

She hesitated.

"He didn't put it into so many words," she said, "and I am not
sure, even now, that I ought to tell you, Dicky. Still, you are a