through on that hot, breathless night after the motor-'buses hadceased their roar in Park Lane and tinkling cab-bells were few and farbetween.

  One o'clock, the sound of the gong arousing him. He switched off thelight, and, walking to the window, raised one of the slats of theVenetian blinds and peered out upon the pavement where so recently hehad first recognised that man from the grave--the man Jean Adam.

  He stood behind the blue brocade curtains, watching eagerly. Thepassers-by were few--very few. Lower-class London was mostly at Margateand Ramsgate, while "the West-End" was totally absent, in Scotland or atthe sea.

  He was wondering if Levi had really gone to bed. Or was he lurkingthere to ascertain who might be the visitor expected? Old Sam creptnoiselessly to the door, and, opening it, peered out. The wide hall wasnow in darkness. Levi had, apparently, obeyed his orders and gone belowto bed. And yet, so faithful was he to his trust that nobody could everenter that house without him being aware of the identity of the visitor.

  Sometimes old Sam would regret the brusque manner in which he treatedthe man who was so entirely devoted to him and who shared so many of hissecrets.

  But the secret of that night he did not intend Levi to share. It washis--and should be his alone. And for that person he was waiting tohimself open the door to his midnight caller.

  He was about to close the study door again when he fancied he heard aslight movement in the darkness of the hall. "Levi!" he exclaimedangrily. "What are you doing here when I ordered you to retire?"

  "I'm doing my duty," responded the old servant, advancing out of theshadow. "I do not wish you to go to the door alone, and at night. Youdo not take sufficient care of your personal safety."

  "Rubbish! I have no fear," he answered as both stood there in thedarkness.

  "Yes, but, you are injudicious," declared the old servant. "If not, youwould have heeded young Rolfe's warning, and your present dangerousposition might have been avoided. Adams means mischief. You surelycan't close your eyes to that!"

  "I know he does," answered the millionaire in a voice that seemed harshand hollow. "I know I was a fool."

  "You took a false step, and can't retrace it. If you had consulted me Iwould have given you my views upon the situation."

  "Yes, Levi. You're far too fond of expounding your view on subjects ofwhich you have no knowledge. Your incessant chatter often annoys me,"was his master's response. "If I have committed an error, it is myaffair--not yours. So go to bed, and leave me alone."

  "I shall not," was Levi's open reply.

  "I'm master here. I order you to go!" cried Sam Statham in an angry,commanding tone.

  "And I refuse. I will not allow you to run any further risk."

  "What do you anticipate?" his master asked with sarcasm. "Are youexpecting that my enemies intend to kill me in secret. If so, I canquickly disabuse your mind. It would not be to their interests if Iwere dead, for they could not then bleed me, as is, no doubt, theirintention. I know Adams and his friends."

  "So do I," declared Levi. "Whatever plot they have formed against youis no doubt clever and ingenious. They are not men to act until everypreparation is complete."

  "Then why fear for my personal safety?" asked the millionaire. "Ialways have this--and I can use it," and he drew from his pocketsomething which glistened in the darkness--a neat plated revolver.

  "I fear, because of late you've acted so injudiciously."

  "Through ignorance. I believed myself to be more shrewd than I reallyam. You see I admit my failing to you, Levi. But only to you--tonobody else. The City believes Sam Statham to possess the keenest mindand sharpest wits of any man between Temple Bar and Aldgate. Strange,isn't it, that each one of us earns a reputation for something in whichreally does not excel?"

  "You excel in disbelieving everybody," remarked Levi outspokenly. "Ifyou believed that there was some little honesty in human nature youmight have been spared the present danger."

  "You mean I'm too suspicious--eh? My experience of life has made meso," he growled. "Of the thousand employees I possess, is there a manamong them honest? And as for my friends, is there one I can trust--except Ben and yourself, of course?"

  "What about Rolfe?"

  Sam Statham hesitated. It was a question put too abruptly--a questionnot easily decided on the spur of the moment. Of course, ever since hisfailure to go to Belgrade, he had entertained some misgivings regardinghis secretary. There was more than one point of fact which did notcoincide with Rolfe's statements. The old man was quickly suspicious,and when he scented mystery, it was always a long time before his doubtswere allayed. Like every man of great wealth, he had been surrounded bysycophants, who had endeavoured to get rich at his expense. The verymen he had helped to fortune had turned round afterwards and abused andlibelled him. It was that which had long ago soured him against hisfellow men, and aroused in his heart a disbelief in all protestation ofhonesty and uprightness.

  Levi recognised his master's lack of confidence in Rolfe, and it causedhim to wonder. Hitherto he had been full of praise of the clever andenergetic young secretary by whose smart business methods several greatconcerns in which he had controlling interest had been put into aflourishing condition. But now, quite of a sudden, there was ahesitancy which told too plainly of lack of confidence. Was the star ofRolfe's prosperity on the wane?

  If so, Levi felt sorry, for he was attached to the young man, whom hefelt confident had the interests of his master thoroughly at heart. OldLevi was a queer fish. He had seldom taken to anybody as he had done toMr Rolfe, who happily cracked a joke with him and asked after hisrheumatics.

  "Levi," exclaimed Statham after a few moments of silence, "is it notabsurd for us to chatter here, in the darkness? It's past one. I wishyou to go downstairs and leave me alone."

  "Why?" demanded the old retainer.

  "Because I have a strong reason for opening the door myself. I--well Ipromised that my visitor should be seen by no one except myself. Now,do you understand?"

  Levi did not answer for a few moments.

  "Then in that case," he said with reluctance, "I suppose I must do asyou wish, only I'm very much against you opening the door yourself. Youknow that!"

  And grunting, his dark figure moved along the hall, and he disappeareddown the stairs, wishing his master "good-night."

  Statham, having listened to his retreating footsteps, re-entered thelibrary, which was still unlit, and, going again to the window, peeredforth into Park Lane.

  Rain was falling, and the street-lamps cast long lines of light upon theshining pavements. In the faint ray of light that fell across the roomfrom without he bent and looked at his watch. It was half-past one--thehour of the appointment.

  The old fellow raised both hands to his head and smoothed back his greyhair. Then he drew a long sigh, and waited in patience, peering forthin eager expectancy.

  For another ten minutes he remained almost motionless until at last hisear caught the sound of a footstep coming from the direction of OxfordStreet, and a dark figure, passing the window, stopped beneath theporch.

  Next second he flew along the hall to the door, opening it noiselesslyto admit a woman in a black tailor-made gown and motor-cap, her featuresbut half concealed by a thin veil of grey gauze.

  She crossed the threshold without speaking, for he raised his finger asthough to command her silence. Then, when he had closed the door behindher and slipped the bolt into its socket, he conducted her along to thedark study, without uttering a word.

  Her attitude and gait was that of fear and hesitancy; as though shealready regretted having come there, and would fain make her escape--ifescape were possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

  IN WHICH MARION IS INDISCREET.

  On entering, old Statham switched on the electric light quietly, thesoft glow revealing the pale countenance of his guest.

  The blanched face, with its apprehensive, half-frightened expression,was that of Marion
Rolfe.

  "Well," he said in his thin, rather squeaky voice, after he had closedthe door behind her and drawn forward a chair, "you have at lastsummoned courage to come--eh?" He smiled at her triumphantly. "Whyhave you refused my invitation so many times? My house, I know, bears areputation for mystery, but I am no ogre, I assure you, Miss Rolfe."

  "Whispers have come back to me that I am believed by some to be a modernBlue Beard, or by others a kind of seducer; but I trust you willdisbelieve the wild rumours put out by my enemies, and regard me as yourfriend."

  She had sunk into the soft depths of the green silk upholstered chair,and, with her motor-veil thrown back, was gazing at the old man, half infear, half in