It was a cold night in early spring, and the WestEnd streets were nearly deserted. The great shuttersof the shops were being drawn down with adull rumble, and every moment the pavements grewmore dreary looking as the glories of the plate-glasswindows were hidden.

Tired workers with haggard faces were makingtheir way homeward; to them the day was at anend. But to the occupants of the whirring taxisand smart motors, as they sped westward, the roundof their day was but half-way through; for them,the great ones of the earth, the all-important hourof dinner was at hand.

At the entrance of one of the most luxurious clubsin Pall Mall two men, in immaculate evening dress,stood carelessly surveying the hurrying throngsof people.

"Seven," said one, as the hour struck from thenearest church. "I thought Standon said seven."

"Yes, and like a woman, meant half-past,"returned the other, hiding a yawn.

"Stan's too young to value his dinner properly,but Leroy ought to have been punctual. Oh, hereis Stan!" as a slight, well-dressed man spranghastily from a smart motor and came towardsthem.

"Hello!" said the new-comer, shaking hands,"you two fellows first? I hope I'm not late,Shelton."

"Of course you're late," growled Shelton, withcharacteristic pessimism. "You always are, andLeroy is worse. Come along, we may as well waitinside as in this beastly draught."

In the great dining-hall the snowy-covered tableswere being taken rapidly by members about todine; silent-footed waiters were hurrying to andfro, carrying out their various duties, while intermittentlythe sound of opening champagne bottlesmingled with the buzz of conversation and theripple of laughter.

The three men, Mortimer Shelton, Lord Standonand Frank Parselle, seated themselves at a table ina comfortable recess and took stock of the room,responding to numerous nods and smiles of recognition,while grumbling at the unpunctuality oftheir friend.

"Ten past seven!" groaned Shelton, looking athis watch. "I might have known that Leroy wouldbe late. Shall we wait?"

"Oh, yes!" said Parselle; "Adrien might notlike it, you know. It is a bore, though! The soupwill be as thick as mud!"

"By Jove! I'd forgotten," interrupted Standonsuddenly. "I met Leroy yesterday, and he askedme to tell you he might be late, as he was off toBarminster Castle last night. We were not to wait.He gave me a note, and--if I haven't left it in myother coat--" He fumbled in his pocket. "No;here it is." He produced the note with an air oftriumph, and Shelton, with a muttered exclamationof disgust, ordered dinner to be served beforehe opened it. As he did so and ran his eye over thecontents, he frowned.

"Just listen to this," he said irritably.

"'MY DEAR MORTIMER,

A letter from Jasper takes me down tothe Castle. I will return in time to join your littleparty and, with your leave, bring Jasper along too;but don't wait on any account.

"'Yours,

"'ADRIEN LEROY.'"

"Jasper--always Jasper!" commented Standon."I'd like to know by what means Jasper Vermonthas obtained such influence over Leroy."

"Ah, that's the mystery!" said Parselle, frowning.

"It's as plain as a pikestaff," growled MortimerShelton. "Leroy saved Vermont's life years ago--atOxford, I think. That's enough for Adrien.If a cat or dog, or even a one-eyed monkey, placeditself under his protection, Adrien

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