The boy departed. Harvey Grimm, who as a rule was a temperate man, drank up his cocktail quickly and sent for another. "Do you believe in forebodings, Stephen?" he asked. "I was brought up on them," the poet replied. "There is Irish blood in my veins. I am most superstitious." "I have had an exciting adventure this morning," Harvey Grimm went on. "So far as any human being can see, I am out of it as I have been before. I have made the most careful arrangements, too--but there, it's well for you not to know too much. There's just this about it. I wish to God I could see that Belgian and get rid of a few baubles." "Let me have them," his companion begged. "No one would suspect me." Harvey Grimm shook his head. "They're not your trouble, my boy," he said. "Besides, you're too damned careless." The page returned a few moments later. "The gentleman left the hotel yesterday, sir," he announced. "The hall porter----" "Well?" Harvey Grimm interrupted. "The hall porter," the boy continued, a little confused, "said something about the gentleman having changed his name." Harvey Grimm's face grew sterner, and the look of trouble about his eyes more pronounced. He put a shilling in the boy's hand and sent him away. "There's something up here," he muttered. "First of all Aaron disappears, and now Brinnen has changed his name. My God, if they only knew what his other name really was!" The poet chuckled. "And to think," he murmured, "that I have been in it! What a man!" "The devil of it is for me," Harvey Grimm declared, "that I've fifty thousand pounds' worth of his stolen jewls around my body at the present moment. I fought my way out of a trap this morning. I tell you, Stephen, as a rule this sort of thing stimulates me. I hold my head, a little higher, I whistle gayer tunes, I am looking out for the bright things in life every second of the time, and my feet scarcely touch the earth. But to-day it's all different. I can't walk without turning round. I can't hear that door open without starting. Hell! ... Bring me another cocktail, waiter." "Steady, old chap! Your nerves are dicky, that's what's the matter with you." "It's the first time in my life," Harvey Grimm muttered, "but I've got them now. I feel that I'm cornered. I did Brodie in this morning. I left him at eleven o'clock, gagged and tied in the workshop he tracked me to. I was Edward Levy there, and there isn't one of them except the old man who knew otherwise. Brodie himself never recognised me. The only fear is if the old man peaches. He's had a couple of thousand of the best, and he hoards gold and loves it as though it were his own lifeblood. Thank God, here are the cocktails!" "I shall write an epic about you this afternoon," the poet declared. "You're tense, Harvey, that's what you are. You're strung up. There's a different sense in the words you speak, a sort of quivering significance in everything you say. You're feeling life, man."