"I shan't forget," she murmured. "The dark one looks like Brightman, the
detective you were up against in that Fall River business--the man who
believed that you were the High Priest of crime in New York."

"You have a good memory," he remarked. "It is the same man."

"And the other," she continued, with a sudden added interest in her
tone--"Why, that's the Englishman who had me turned off from the hotel in
Washington. Don't you remember, I went there for a month on trial as
telephone operator, just before the election? You remember why. That
Englishman was always dropping in. Used to bring me flowers now and then,
but I felt certain from the first he was suspicious. He got me turned off
just as things were getting interesting."

"Right again," Jocelyn Thew told her. "His name is Crawshay. He is the man
who was sent out from Scotland Yard to the English Embassy. He crossed with
me on the steamer. We had our first little bout there."

"Who won?"

"The first trick fell to me," he acknowledged grimly.

"And so will the second and the third," she murmured. "He may be brainy,
though he doesn't look it with that monacle and the peering way he has, but
you're too clever for them all, Jocelyn Thew. You'll win."

He smiled very faintly.

"Well," he said, "this time I have to win or throw in my chips. Now if you