Heneage smiled a little oddly as he turned away. "Perhaps," he said. It was not until they were on their way out that Wrayson realized that she was slipping away from him once more. Then he took his courage into his hands and spoke boldly. "I wonder," he said, "if I might be allowed to see you ladies home. I have something to say to Miss Fitzmaurice," he added simply, turning to the Baroness. "By all means," she answered graciously, "if you don't mind rather an uncomfortable seat. We are staying in Battersea. It seems a long way out, but it is quiet, and Louise and I like it." "In Battersea?" Wrayson repeated vaguely. The Baroness looked over her shoulder. They were standing on the pavement, waiting for their electric brougham. "Yes!" she answered, dropping her voice a little, "in Frederic Mansions. By the bye, we are neighbours, I believe, are we not?" "Quite close ones," Wrayson answered. "I live in the next block of flats." The Baroness looked again over her shoulder. "Your friend, Mr. Heneage, is close behind," she whispered, "and we are living so quietly, Louise and I, that we do not care for callers. Tell the man 'home' simply." Wrayson obeyed, and the carriage glided off. Heneage had been within a few feet of them when they had started, and although his attention appeared to be elsewhere, the Baroness' caution was obviously justified. She leaned back amongst the cushions with a little sigh of relief. "Mr. Wrayson," she inquired, "may I ask if Mr. Heneage is a particular friend of yours?" Wrayson shook his head. "I do not think that any man could call himself Heneage's particular friend," he answered. "He is exceedingly reticent about himself and his doings. He is a man whom none of us know much of." The Baroness leaned a little forward. "Mr. Heneage," she said slowly, "is associated in my mind with days and events which, just at present, both Louise and I are only anxious to forget. He may be everything that he should be. Perhaps I am prejudiced. But if I were you, I would have as little to do as possible with that man." "We do not often meet," Wrayson answered, "and ours is only a club acquaintanceship. It is never likely to be more." "So much the better," the Baroness declared. "Don't you agree with me, Louise?" "I do not like Mr. Heneage," the girl answered. "But then, I have never spoken a dozen words to him in my life." "You have known him intimately?" Wrayson asked the Baroness. She shrugged her shoulders and looked out of the window. "Never that, quite," she answered. "I know enough of him, however, to be quite sure that the advice which I have given you is good." The carriage drew up in the Albert Road, within a hundred yards or so of Wrayson's own block of flats. The Baroness alighted first. "You must come in and have a whisky and soda," she said to Wrayson. "If I may," he answered, looking at Louise. The Baroness passed on. Louise, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, followed her. CHAPTER X