And then suddenly behind her, on the stairs, he caught sight of a great bald head ascending through the dusk. It was an ordinary bald head, the property of Mr. Stacy in fact, but to Minot a certain Jephson seemed to be moving beneath it He remembered. His arms fell to his sides. He turned away. "We must see what can be done," he said mechanically. "Yes," Cynthia Meyrick agreed in an odd tone, "we must see what can be done." And a tear, unnoticed, fell on Mr. Stacy's aged oriental tapestry. CHAPTER XV A BIT OF A BLOW Miss Meyrick turned back toward the room of chance to find her father. Minot, meanwhile, ran down the steps, obtained his hat and coat, and hurried across the street to the hotel. He went at once to Harrowby's rooms. There he encountered a scene of wild disorder. The round-faced valet was packing trunks against time, and his time-keeper, Mr. Bill Huntley, sat in a corner, grim and silent, watch in hand. Lord Harrowby paced the floor madly. When he saw Minot he held out his long, lean, helpless hands. "You've heard, old boy?" he said. "Yes, I've heard," said Minot sharply. "A fine fix, Harrowby. Why the deuce didn't you pay the duty on that necklace?" "Dear boy! Was saving every cent I had for--you know what. Besides, I heard of such a clever scheme for slipping it in--" "Never mind that! Mr. Huntley, this gentleman was to have been married on Tuesday. Can't you hold off until then?" "Nothing doing," said Mr. Huntley firmly. "I got to get back to New York. He'll have to postpone his wedding. Ought to have thought of these things before he pulled off his little stunt." "It's no use, Minot," said Harrowby hopelessly. "I've gone all over it with this chap. He won't listen to reason. What the deuce am I to do?" A knock sounded on the door and Spencer Meyrick, red-faced, flirting with apoplexy, strode into the room. "Lord Harrowby," he announced, "I desire to see you alone." "Er--step into the bedroom," Harrowby suggested. Mr. Huntley rose promptly to his feet. "Nix," he said. "There's a door out of that room leading into the hall. If you go in there, I go, too." Mr. Meyrick glared. Harrowby stood embarrassed. "Very well," said Meyrick through his teeth. "We'll stay here. It doesn't matter to me. I simply want to say, Lord Harrowby, that when you get to Jersey City you needn't trouble to come back, as far as my family is concerned." A look of pain came into Harrowby's thin face. "Not come back," he said. "My dear sir--" "That's what I said. I'm a plain man, Harrowby. A plain American. It doesn't seem to me that marrying into the British nobility is worth all the trouble it's costing us--" "But really--" "It may be, but it doesn't look that way to me. I prefer a simple wedding to a series of vaudeville acts. If you think I'm going to stand for the publicity of this latest affair, you're mistaken. I've talked matters over with Cynthia--the marriage is off--for good!"