THE EVIL SHEPHERD BY E. PHILIPS OPPENHEIM






CHAPTER I


Francis Ledsam, alert, well-satisfied with himself and the world,
the echo of a little buzz of congratulations still in his ears,
paused on the steps of the modern Temple of Justice to light a
cigarette before calling for a taxi to take him to his club.
Visions of a whisky and soda--his throat was a little parched
--and a rubber of easy-going bridge at his favourite table, were
already before his eyes. A woman who had followed him from the
Court touched him on the shoulder.

"Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Ledsam?"

The barrister frowned slightly as he swung around to confront his
questioner. It was such a familiar form of address.

"What do you want?" he asked, a little curtly.

"A few minutes' conversation with you," was the calm reply. "The
matter is important."

The woman's tone and manner, notwithstanding her plain,