The green eyes flashed for a moment, and then became dull again.

'Guineas?' said Mr. Podgers at last, in a low voice.

'Certainly. I will send you a cheque to-morrow. What is your
club?'

'I have no club. That is to say, not just at present. My address
is -, but allow me to give you my card'; and producing a bit of
gilt-edge pasteboard from his waistcoat pocket, Mr. Podgers handed
it, with a low bow, to Lord Arthur, who read on it,


Mr. SEPTIMUS R. PODGERS
Professional Cheiromantist
103a West Moon Street


'My hours are from ten to four,' murmured Mr. Podgers mechanically,
'and I make a reduction for families.'

'Be quick,' cried Lord Arthur, looking very pale, and holding his
hand out.

Mr. Podgers glanced nervously round, and drew the heavy portiere
across the door.

'It will take a little time, Lord Arthur, you had better sit down.'