"That suits you, Margaret?" Hilditch asked, turning courteously
to his wife.

For a single moment her eyes were fixed upon those of her
prospective guest. He read their message which pleaded for his
refusal, and he denied it.

"To-morrow evening will suit me as well as any other," she
acquiesced, after a brief pause.

"At eight o'clock, then--number 10 b, Hill Street," Hilditch
concluded.

Francis bowed and turned away with a murmured word of polite
assent. Outside, he found Wilmore deep in the discussion of the
merits of various old brandies with an interested maitre d'hotel.

"Any choice, Francis?" his host enquired.

"None whatever," was the prompt reply, "only, for God's sake,
give me a double one quickly!"

The two men were on the point of departure when Oliver Hilditch
and his wife left the restaurant. As though conscious that they
had become the subject of discussion, as indeed was the case,
thanks to the busy whispering of the various waiters, they passed
without lingering through the lounge into the entrance hall,
where Francis and Andrew Wilmore were already waiting for a
taxicab. Almost as they appeared, a new arrival was ushered