"I will tell you another time," I answered, in a low tone. I glanced towards the table as I said this and was just in time to see de Cartienne bend over towards Cecil and whisper something in his ear. The latter looked round at us at once. "You two seem to have found something interesting to talk about," he remarked, glancing towards Milly as though requiring an explanation. "We haven't," she answered, with a sigh. "Mr. Morton was just asking me---- Oh, Mr. Morton, you're treading on my foot!" I withdrew my foot and tried the effect of a warning glance, but it was of no avail. "Mr. Morton was asking me," she continued, "whether I had not another of those photographs." "And have you--has anyone?" interrupted de Cartienne, fixing his piercing black eyes upon her. She shook her head. "No; but perhaps I can get some. They were taken at Lawrence's and I suppose he has the negative." I glanced quickly at de Cartienne. He seemed profoundly uninterested and was trying to build a house of the cards he had thrown down. Either he must be a perfect actor, or my vague suspicions were very ill-founded at that moment. I could not decide which. "Had enough cards, Cis?" he asked abruptly. "Not I. We'll leave you out for a bit, though. Fothergill and I are going to play ecarté." de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders and threw himself on the sofa. "I pity you, then," he said drily. "You'll soon see the back of that little pile of winnings. Fothergill's a bit too good for you." "Well, we shall see," Cecil answered, laughing confidently. "I'm not a bad hand at ecarté myself." They began to play. Presently de Cartienne left the room and returned with two glasses in his hand. "Have a lemon-squash, Morton?" he asked carelessly. "There's only a drop of whisky in it." I accepted, for I was thirsty, and half emptied at a draught the tumbler which he handed me. As I put down the glass I caught a grim smile on de Cartienne's sallow face. But what it meant I could not tell, although it made me strangely uneasy. I watched the play for a few minutes and, to my surprise, Cecil was still winning. Then gradually a powerful, overmastering sleepiness crept over me. I tried to stave it off by walking about, by talking to Milly, by concentrating my thoughts upon the play. It was useless. I felt my eyes closing and the sounds and voices in the room grew dimmer and less distinct. For a while I remained in a semi-conscious state--half awake and half asleep--by sheer force of will. But in the end I was conquered. A mist hung before my eyes and all sound died away. I fell asleep. CHAPTER XXXI. A STARTLING DISCOVERY.