"Listen," she said, "it will be half an hour at least before they can arrive at Giro's. Madame must change her toilette." As Madame's last toilette had been one of pink silk, in which there was very much more stocking than skirt, the suggestion seemed probable. "What would you like to do?" Aaron asked. "I would like to call back at the Milan," she begged. "I nearly always see my grandfather for a moment before he goes to sleep; and I can rest and bathe my eyes. You will not mind waiting?" "Of course not!" He redirected the driver and they drew up, a few minutes later, at the Milan. She descended at the Court entrance and crossed over at once to the lift. "I will not ask you up," she said. "I shall find you here, perhaps, in--say, ten minutes?" He assented and bought an evening paper. In less than the time she had stated, the lift stopped and she reappeared. To his surprise she had taken off her hat. She came towards him with a strange look in her face. He could see the tears quivering in her eyes. "Dear friend," she whispered, "be kind to me. I have had a great blow. My grandfather died this evening while we were away--only an hour ago." He murmured an eager word or two of sympathy. She laid her hand upon his arm. "Will you go, please, at once to Giro's," she begged him, "and tell Leopold? Try and prevent him, if you can, entering the supper-room. There are so many things that will happen now," she went on. "Please go quickly. See!" She raised her fingers to his lips. He caught them and kissed them. Then she turned away and he hurried outside, jumped into a taxi and drove to Giro's. Leopold Brinnen and a little party of guests were standing in the hall. The former frowned as he entered alone. "Where is my sister?" he demanded. Aaron took him by the arm. "Captain Brinnen," he said, "I am sorry, but I am the bearer of bad news. Your grandfather died this evening." The young man stood perfectly still for a moment. "Dead!" he muttered. "Poor fellow! ... dead!" Inside the room the music was crashing, and the hum of conversation was already swelling to a tumult. A couple of early dancers were whirling round the room. Brinnen turned to his guests. "I am so sorry," he explained, "Mr. Rodd here has brought me bad news. A near relative of mine has died suddenly. You must excuse my joining you. Luigi will serve the supper." There was a little murmur of sympathy. His Bohemian friends crowded silently around him. One by one they shook his hand--a queer little function. Then he turned away and stood for a moment on the pavement outside, Aaron Rodd by his side. "Mr. Rodd," he said, "my grandfather's death may make a difference in many ways." Aaron Rodd straightened himself. He was never sure of the demeanour of this young adventurer, who seemed for the most part to treat life as a jest. "In what way?" he asked. Brinnen replied with a question. "Can you communicate with Mr. Harvey Grimm?"