'Sure!' Mr. Courlander murmured, as he picked up his hat. 'I am generally to be found round about the Milan. Like to have you come and dine with me one night.' The two men parted at the hotel entrance. Lavendale got into a taxi and drove to his rooms. As he changed his clothes, he glanced through his correspondence. There was a note from Suzanne which he read over twice:-- '_Dear Friend,--_ '_I want to see you at once. I shall be in from seven till eight. Please call._' Lavendale glanced at the clock, hurried with his toilet, and found himself ringing the bell at the entrance door of Suzanne's suite at half-past seven. She admitted him herself and ushered him into the little sitting-room, which had been transformed almost into a bower of deep red roses. 'Mr. Kessner,' she exclaimed, pointing around, 'with a carte de visite! You see what he says?--'"From a forgiving enemy!"' Lavendale glanced at them with a frown upon his forehead. 'I'd like to throw them out of the window,' he declared frankly. 'Do not be foolish,' she laughed. 'Listen. You are dining somewhere?' 'At our own shop,' he replied. 'They ask me about once in every two months, to fill up.' 'I wanted to speak to you about that man Courlander,' she went on. 'Well?' 'Lawrence Dowell--the American newspapers woman, you know--was in here yesterday and stayed to lunch. We saw Mr. Courlander in the distance and she told me about him. Do you know that he was convicted of murder?--that it was only through Mr. Kessner's influence that he was taken out of Sing-Sing? He was a police-sergeant and his name was Drayton. They say that there were several cases against him of having men put out of the way who had made themselves obnoxious to Tammany Hall. The sentence against him was quite clear, yet Mr. Kessner not only managed to have him released but made him his private secretary.' Lavendale stood for a moment looking out of the window with his hands in his pockets. Then he turned slowly around. 'About an hour ago,' he said, 'this fellow Courlander tried to doctor a cocktail I was drinking in the Carlton smoking-room.' 'What?' she exclaimed. 'I met him at the corner of St. James's Street,' he went on. 'I had been in the club with Niko Komashi, and I am perfectly certain that he had been dogging me. We walked along Pall Mall and he pressed me to go in and have a cocktail. I happened to cross the room to speak to Willoughby and on the way glanced into the mirror. I saw Courlander's hand suddenly flash over my glass. It was so quick that even though I saw it myself, I could scarcely believe it, and I'm certain that no one else in the room could have noticed it. When I got back, I made some excuse and ordered another cocktail.' She seemed suddenly to lose some part of that serenity which as yet he had never seen even ruffled. She was distinctly paler. 'You must be careful--please promise that you will be careful,' she begged.