Auriole sprang to her feet and put her hands on his shoulders. Her face was lovelier at close range. A faint and delightful perfume came to his nostrils, her eyes burned brightly and the scarlet mouth, with its moist trembling lower lip, was an exquisite invitation. This indeed was a very woman, he thought, a striking contrast to the small and wistful Doreen. With sudden intuition he realised he had but to open his arms and she would enter--willingly, anxiously. An insane desire possessed him to do this thing. She was adorable, desirable, magnificent, and he was certain beyond doubt she loved him. With a catch of the breath he raised his hands and in so doing his glance fell upon the sleeve of the coat he wore. The cloth was of blue Cheviot which reminded him abruptly that he was Richard Frencham Altar masquerading in someone else's clothes, a circumstance which in no way admitted him to the use of short cuts to the affections of their real owner's admirers. It is disappointing to have to acknowledge that someone is violently in love with someone else that you happen to resemble and the reflection sobered him quickly. With an awkward laugh he turned away and repeated: "Yes, tell him I'll take it in copper." "Tony!" she said, "Tony, don't fool with it! Don't you, realise how frightfully serious it is? Haven't you any imagination?" Apparently he did realise--apparently he had some imagination, for he replied: "I imagine it is much too late for us to be talking here together. I'm going to ring the bell." "No," she cried. "My man will get you a cab." "If you ring you'll be sorry." "Life is full of regrets," he answered, and pressed the button. He saw the startled gesture she made to prevent him and simultaneously the hall and the bedroom doors were thrown open and three gentlemen, each levelling a revolver at his head, advanced into the room. CHAPTER 9. AN INVITATION TO STAY. To a person of less even temperament than Richard the unexpected appearance of these three gentlemen marching in the wake of nickel plated shooting irons might well have aroused feelings of alarm and indignation. But for a matter of some four years Richard had been shot over pretty thoroughly and the lessons of calm learnt in the hard school of war did not desert him in the present situation. He felt, moreover, a curious certainty that the chance of bullets flying around was pretty remote. The primary necessity was to keep his head and avoid any word or action that might betray the fact that he was not the man they believed him to be. The name Van Diest, which had occurred in his conversation with the girl, came quickly to his brain and he glanced from one to another in the hope of determining whether its bearer was present.