"That may be," growled the reporter, "but I am not a private detective
agency, or a matrimonial bureau, and before I hear myself saying, 'Bless
you, my children!' both of these young people will have to show me why
they should not be kept asunder."




II


On the afternoon of their arrival in London Ford convoyed Mrs. Ashton to
an old-established private hotel in Craven Street.

"Here," he explained, "you will be within a few hundred yards of the
place in which your husband is said to spend his time. I will be living
in the same hotel. If I find him you will know it in ten minutes."

The widow gave a little gasp, whether of excitement or of happiness Ford
could not determine.

"Whatever happens," she begged, "will you let me hear from you
sometimes? You are the only person I know in London--and--it's so big it
frightens me. I don't want to be a burden," she went on eagerly, "but if
I can feel you are within call--"

"What you need," said Ford heartily, "is less of the doctor's nerve
tonic and sleeping draughts, and a little innocent diversion. To-night I
am going to take you to the Savoy to supper."