"Au revoir then."

As Barraclough moved toward the door Cranbourne spoke.

"Why did you pa.s.s me by at the Berkeley last night?"

Barraclough wrinkled his forehead perplexedly.

"The Berkeley?"

"Yes, about ten thirty."

"At ten thirty I was plugging a man in the jaw at St. Pancras Station."

Cranbourne sprang to his feet.

"Honest?" he cried.

"Honest."

"And you never went to the Berkeley?"

"Nowhere near it."

A light of wild enthusiasm leapt into Cranbourne's eyes and he brought his hands together with a loud report.

"Got it," he cried. "Got it! Oh, what an idea!"

"What's up with you?"

The enthusiasm came under control but his voice still trembled.

"It's all right, gentlemen, I can see a way. With any luck we'll succeed. Don't do anything until eleven o'clock on the night of the 27th. I'm going to try and find someone." And he made for the door.

"But hang it all," Lord Almont shouted, "be a bit more explicit."

Cranbourne turned.

"Have you missed it," he said. "Then here's something to think about.

Suppose Van Diest kidnaps the wrong man." The door slammed behind him.

Mr. Torrington laid a card on the table with careful deliberation. He was smiling.

"Great fun," he murmured to himself.

CHAPTER 4.

SITTING ON THE FLOOR.

When Anthony Barraclough left the Mansions he walked up Park Lane and turned into Green Street. Before a house with a white front door he stopped and attacked the knocker. He was admitted by a parlourmaid and informed that Miss Irish was in the boudoir. This was good news because it meant sitting on the floor and lovers all the world over are at their happiest when they sit on the floor. There is something soothing and familiar about it. A man loves to sprawl and a woman is always at her best curled up among cushions. It is impossible to be disagreeable when you are sitting on the floor. You couldn't conceivably have a row in that position. Perhaps a little sulking might be done but very little and only of the kind that provokes pleasant makings-up. Altogether it is a jolly fine inst.i.tution and the world would be a better place if there was more of it.

In the opinion of Anthony Barraclough no one sat on the floor so divinely as Isabel, and to tell the truth he rather fancied himself as her floor partner.

"Don't you bother," he said to the maid. "I'll make my own way up."

He handed over his hat and stick and mounted the stairs and knocked at a door on the second floor.

"May I come in?" he asked and did not wait for the reply.

Isabel was built in among a nest of squabs and cushions that circled the tiny grate.

"Nice!" she said with a grin. "I was beginning to think you were deserting me. Rang up three times yesterday I did."

"Awful busy I was," he returned and disposed himself luxuriously beside her. Then he said 'Please' and had every reason to say 'Thank you' only he preferred to express it otherwise.

"What you been doing?"

"Trous-sewing," she answered nodding at a small basket decorated with silk fruit and overflowing with pieces of flimsy needlework. "But I've been dull. Where were you yesterday?"

"All over the place. North, south, east and west and the nor'-nor's and the sou'-sou's into the bargain. It was a hectic day."

Something in the forced gaiety of his voice made her look at him critically.

"Anything wrong?" he asked. "I know I'm not handsome but----"

"I don't know yet," she continued looking, "but you've a kind of flat look at the corners of your eyes where the fun ought to be."

"Now what on earth do you mean by that?"

"A lot. Tony! Almost you've got the----"

"Well?"

"The money face."

"Money face?"

"Um! You mustn't laugh, it's a dreadful face. Daddy had it. He caught it during the rubber boom and it never went away. Are you still doing things with that beastly syndicate, Tony?"

"Here, chuck it," he implored humorously. "We're sitting on the floor, you know. 'Tisn't fair."

But her expression remained very grave.

"I sometimes believe," she said, "you think that's all I'm good for. You don't talk to me as I want you to talk. I'm not always sitting on the floor, Tony. It's lovely at times, but other times I'm different.

I'm--oh, I'm a bit of a surprise really."