"I just want to ask you a question, Mr. Morton, if you'll allow me," he said kindly. "Remember that I'm an old man--old enough to be your father--and a man of the world, and you are a very young one. You won't mind a word of advice?" "Most certainly not!" I assured him heartily. "Well, then, Count de Cartienne is quite a new acquaintance of yours, is he not?" "I never saw him before this evening," I admitted. "And you--pardon me, but you look very young, and a great deal too fresh and healthy for a town man--you don't know much of London life, do you?" "Nothing at all," I answered. "This is my first visit to London, and I only arrived this afternoon." Lord Langerdale looked very serious. "Look here, Mr. Morton," he said earnestly, "I feel sure from your face that I can trust you, and that what I am going to say you will consider in confidence. I should be the last one to say anything against Eugène de Cartienne, for he received a terrible injury from one of my family, or, rather, my wife's family, and I fear that has exercised an evil influence over his life. But, all the same, I cannot see you, a youngster, perfectly inexperienced, starting out to spend your first night in town with him without feeling it my duty to tell you that I consider him one of the most unfortunate and most dangerous companions whom you could have chosen. There! I hope you're not offended?" "How could I be?" I answered gratefully. "But I am not going out with him from choice, or for the sake of amusement. We are together simply because, as far as I know, he is the only man who can solve a mystery which I have come up to London to try to clear up." Lord Langerdale started, and his manner became almost agitated. "This is most extraordinary!" he declared. "Mr. Morton, you must--ah, here comes de Cartienne!" he broke off in a tone of deep annoyance. "Breakfast with me to-morrow morning at ten--no, nine o'clock!" he added, in a lower key. "I have something most important to say to you." I nodded assent and the Count joined us. There was a faint flush on his pale cheeks and his eyes were flashing brightly, as he looked at us standing close together. It might have been the result of his recent conversation, of course; but, coupled with his frowning brow and quick, suspicious glance, it looked a great deal more like a sudden fit of anger at seeing us engaged in what appeared like a confidential talk. But there was no trace of it in his tone when he addressed us. "Really, you two might be conspirators," he said lightly. "Well, Mr. Morton, have you changed your mind, or am I to have the honour of your company this evening?" "I am ready to start when you are," I answered. "Good-night once more, Lord Langerdale."