It was late when finally they had all separated. Then Hopford, on arriving at Rue des Petits Champs, had found a blue telegram awaiting him. It came from his chief, who said Hopford must return at once. “I have most important news for you,” the message had ended. CHAPTER XXX. BLENKIRON’S NARRATIVE. London was now almost full again, after its two months of social stagnation, for October was close at hand. Already announcements were appearing in the newspapers of balls and dances, receptions and dinner parties, and other forms of entertainment with which people with money to spend and no work to do endeavor to kill time. And among the social receptions largely “featured” was one to be given by Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson at her house in Cavendish Place in the third week in October. Johnson and Mrs. Hartsilver were back in town, so were Captain Preston and Yootha Hagerston, and George Blenkiron was staying at Cox’s Hotel, but none of the five had been invited to Jessica’s reception. The leading London newspapers had been asked to send representatives, however, and at his request Harry Hopford had been detailed by his chief to attend. Among the visitors at Morley’s Hotel, in Trafalgar Square, was a dark man, obviously a foreigner, with black, rather oily hair and a carefully waxed moustache, a florid complexion and a tendency to obesity. Hopford noticed his name in the visitors’ book when he went to inquire for Major Guysburg who, Preston had told him, had just arrived there from America. The foreigner’s name was Alphonse Michaud. “Major Guysburg is dining out,” Hopford was told. He lit a cigarette, paused in the hall for a moment, then decided to look up Blenkiron, whom he had not seen since his return to town, but who was staying at Cox’s Hotel in Jermyn Street. On his way he called at a flat in Ryder Street, and found a friend of his at home and hard at work writing. It was the friend who had, at his request, watched Stapleton’s “cottage,” The Nest, near Uckfield, while he, Hopford, had been in Paris. “I am on my way to see a friend at Cox’s Hotel,” Hopford said, when the two had conversed for some moments, “quite a good fellow, name of Blenkiron. Would you care to come along? You might run across the person you shadowed from The Nest to Cox’s that day, you never know.” Blenkiron was in, Hopford was told, and a messenger took his card. A few minutes afterwards he was asked “please to come up.” “’Evening, Blenkiron,” he said, as he was shown in. “Hope I am not disturbing you, eh? Tell me if I am, and I’ll go away. I have brought a friend I should like to introduce,” and he stepped aside to let his friend advance. Silence followed. In evident astonishment Hopford’s friend and Blenkiron stared at each other. “Haven’t we met before?” the latter said at last. “Surely on the road from The Nest to Uckfield----” The other smiled.