"I am very sorry indeed, Miss Beverley," he said, "that you cannot give me
your confidence. I am very sorry for my own sake, and I am sorry for
yours."

"Is that a threat?" she asked.

"You know the old proverb," he answered, as he bowed over her fingers.
"'Those who are not on my side are against me.'"

"You are going to treat me as an enemy?"

"Until you prove yourself to be a friend."




CHAPTER XIX


At a quarter to eight that evening, a young man who had made fitful
appearances in the lounge of Claridge's Restaurant during the last
half-hour went to the telephone and rang up a certain West End number.

"Are these Mr. Crawshay's rooms?" he asked.

"Mr. Crawshay speaking," was the reply.

"Brightman there?"

Crawshay turned away from the telephone and handed the receiver to the