We stayed until long past closing time. Mr. Parker continued in the highest good humor, but Eve was subject at times to moods of either indifference or depression. The more intimate note which had once or twice crept into our conversation she seemed now inclined to deprecate. She avoided meeting my eyes. More than once she glanced toward the clock. "Haven't you an appointment to-night, father?" she asked, almost in an undertone. "Sure!" Mr. Parker answered readily. "I have an appointment, and I am going to take you and Mr. Walmsley along." "I am delighted to hear it!" I exclaimed quickly. "I'll teach you to make fun of the newspapers," Mr. Parker went on. "No gambling hells in London, eh? Well, we shall see!" To my great relief Eve made no spoken objection to my inclusion in the party. When at last we left a large and handsome motor car was drawn up outside waiting for us. "A taxicab," Mr. Parker explained, "is of no use to me--of no more use than a hansom cab. I have to keep a car in order to slip about quietly. Now in what part of London shall we look for a gambling hell, Mr. Walmsley? I know of eleven. Name your own street--somewhere in the West End." I named one at random. "The very place!" Mr. Parker declared; "the very place where I have already an appointment. Get in. Say, you Londoners have no idea what goes on in your own city!" We drove to a quiet street not very far from the Ritz Hotel. Mr. Parker led us across the pavement and we entered a block of flats. The entrance hall was dimly lit and there seemed to be no one about. Mr. Parker, however, rang for a lift, which came promptly down. "You two will stay here," he directed, "for two or three minutes. Then the lift will come down for you." He ascended and left us there. I turned at once to Eve, who had scarcely spoken a word during the drive from the restaurant. "I do wish you would tell me what is troubling you, Miss Parker," I begged. "If I am really in the way of course you have only to say the word and I'll be off at once." She held my arm for a moment. The touch of her fingers gave me unreasonable pleasure. "Please don't think me rude or unkind," she pleaded. "Don't even think that I don't like your coming along with us--because I do. It isn't that. Only, as I told my father before supper, you don't belong! You ought not to be seen at these places, and with us. For some absurd reason father seems to have taken a fancy to you. It isn't a very good thing for you. It very likely won't be a good thing for us." "Do please change your opinion of me a little," I implored her. "I can't help my appearance; but let me assure you I am willing to play the Bohemian to any extent so long as I can be with you. There isn't a thing in your life I wouldn't be content to share," I ventured to add. She sighed a little petulantly. She was half-convinced, but against her will. "You are very obstinate," she declared; "but, of course, you're rather nice."