"Not at present," Sir Julien replied. "You will have to come on with
the rest of my luggage when I have decided what to do."

Richards was not more than ordinarily inquisitive, but the
circumstances were certainly unusual.

"Do you mean, sir, that you will not be returning to London at
present?" he ventured to ask.

"I shall not be returning to London for some time," Sir Julien answered
sharply. "Get on with the packing as quickly as you can. Put the
whiskey and soda on the table in the sitting-room, and the cigarettes.
Remember, if any one comes I am not at home."

"Too late, my dear fellow," a voice called out from the adjoining room.
"You see, I have found my way up unannounced--a bad habit, but my
profession excuses everything."

The man stood on the threshold of the room opening out from the
bedroom--tall, florid, untidily dressed, with clean-shaven, humorous
face, ungloved hands, and a terribly shabby hat. He looked around the
room and shrugged his shoulders.

"What an infernal mess!" he exclaimed. "Come along out into the
sitting-room, Julien. I want to talk to you."

"I should like to know how the devil you got in here!" Sir Julien
muttered. "I told the fellow downstairs that no one was to be allowed
up."