Furneaux returned promptly with Bates, pallid and apologetic.

"Beg pardon, sir," said the intruder, addressing Theydon, but allowing
his eyes to roam furtively about the room as though he expected to see
something ghoul-like and sinister, "Mr. Forbes has rung up--"

Theydon's voice literally quavered. For the first time in his life he
knew why a woman shrieks in the stress of sudden excitement.

"Tell Mr. Forbes I am still engaged with the gentlemen from Scotland
Yard," he gasped. "I'll give him a call the moment I'm free. He will
understand. Anyhow, I can't explain further now."

"Yes, sir," and Bates disappeared.

"Mr. Forbes? The gentleman you were dining with?" inquired Winter.

"Yes," said Theydon. He knew he ought to add something by way of
explanation, but his heart was thumping madly, and he dared not trust
his voice.

"You told him, I suppose, that Scotland Yard was worrying you, and he
wants to know the result?"

Then Theydon saw an avenue of escape, and took it eagerly.

"I spoke of the murder, of course," he said, "but Mr. Forbes was
hardly interested. He had seen the newspaper placards, and that was
all he knew of it. The truth is, he is wholly wrapped up in a scheme
for reforming mankind by excluding airships and aeroplanes from