goods mostly--and I have a few appointments in London. Afterwards
I am going on to Paris. You can hear of me at any time either
here or at the Grand Hotel, Paris, but there's nothing further to
be got out of me as regards Mr. Hamilton Fynes."

The Inspector was of the same opinion and took his departure. Mr.
Coulson waited for some little time, still sitting on his trunk
and clasping his hairbrushes. Then he moved over to the table on
which stood the telephone instrument and asked for a number. The
reply came in a minute or two in the form of a question.

"It's Mr. James B. Coulson from New York, landed this afternoon
from the Lusitania," Mr. Coulson said. "I am at the Savoy Hotel,
speaking from my room--number 443."

There was a brief silence--then a reply.

"You had better be in the bar smoking-room at seven o'clock. If
nothing happens, don't leave the hotel this evening."

Mr. Coulson replaced the receiver and rang off. A page-boy
knocked at the door.

"Young lady downstairs wishes to see you, sir," he announced.

Mr. Coulson took up the card from the tray.

"Miss Penelope Morse," he said softly to himself. "Seems to me
I'm rather popular this evening. Say I'll be down right away, my
boy."