himself for his delay.

"I didn't like to say anything while your man was about--but the
fact is, I was sent for on a rather unusual matter--"

"Oh, it's all right," said Granice cheerfully. He was beginning
to feel the usual reaction that food and company produced. It
was not any recovered pleasure in life that he felt, but only a
deeper withdrawal into himself. It was easier to go on
automatically with the social gestures than to uncover to any
human eye the abyss within him.

"My dear fellow, it's sacrilege to keep a dinner waiting--
especially the production of an artist like yours." Mr. Ascham
sipped his Burgundy luxuriously. "But the fact is, Mrs. Ashgrove
sent for me."

Granice raised his head with a quick movement of surprise. For a
moment he was shaken out of his self-absorption.

"MRS. ASHGROVE?"

Ascham smiled. "I thought you'd be interested; I know your
passion for causes celebres. And this promises to be one. Of
course it's out of our line entirely--we never touch criminal
cases. But she wanted to consult me as a friend. Ashgrove was a
distant connection of my wife's. And, by Jove, it IS a queer
case!" The servant re-entered, and Ascham snapped his lips shut.

Would the gentlemen have their coffee in the dining-room?