women we get home. The man who stands clear of them has an extra chance or
two--Say, what time this evening?"

"Come to my rooms at 178, St. James's Street, at seven o'clock," Crawshay
directed. "I've a little investigation to make before then."




CHAPTER XVIII


Crawshay took a taxicab from the Savoy to Claridge's Hotel, sent up his
card and was conducted to Katharine Beverley's sitting room on the first
floor. She kept him waiting for a few moments, and he felt a sudden
instinct of curiosity as he noticed the great pile of red roses which a
maid had only just finished arranging. When she came in, he looked towards
her in surprise. She appeared to have grown thinner, and there were dark
rims under her eyes. Her words of greeting were colourless. She seemed
almost afraid to meet his steady gaze.

"I ought to apologise for calling in the morning," he said, "but I ventured
to do so, hoping that you would come out and have some lunch with me."

"I really don't feel well enough," she replied. "London is not agreeing
with me at all."

"You are ill?" he exclaimed, with some concern.

She looked at the closed door through which the maid had issued.