dark threshold of great excitements. Thesetting of the story appealed to him, too, by a sort of brilliantbizarrerie which he found in it. But, as it went on, he grew puzzledand a trifle disheartened. There were flaws and chinks; he began tobubble with unspoken criticisms, then swift and clever thrusts whichhe dared not deliver. He looked upon the young man with disfavour, asupon one who had half opened a door upon a theatre of great promiseand shown him a spectacle not up to the mark. Hanaud, on the otherhand, listened imperturbably, without an expression upon his face,until the end. Then he pointed a finger at Calladine and asked himwhat to Ricardo's mind was a most irrelevant question.
"You got back to your rooms, then, before five, Mr. Calladine, and itis now nine o'clock less a few minutes."
"Yes."
"Yet you have not changed your clothes. Explain to me that. What didyou do between five and half-past eight?"
Calladine looked down at his rumpled shirt front.
"Upon my word, I never thought of it," he cried. "I was worried out ofmy mind. I couldn't decide what to do. Finally, I determined to talkto Mr. Ricardo, and after I had come to that conclusion I just waitedimpatiently until I could come round with decency."
Hanaud rose from his chair. His manner was grave, but conveyed nosingle hint of an opinion. He turned to Ricardo.
"Let us go round to your young friend's rooms in the Adelphi," hesaid; and the three men drove thither at once.