Frobisher had passed a bad night, and he looked as if he were likely to have an equally unpleasant morning. A small dealer out St. Alban’s way claimed to have found three new orchids in his last speculative parcel, and Frobisher had set his mind on seeing them before some other soulless and selfish collector stepped in. But a slip of blue paper, humorously accompanied by a shilling, told him that his presence was imperative at the adjourned inquest on the body of the man unknown, who had been found murdered in the greenhouse at Streatham. "Now what possible connection can I have with that?" he grumbled, as he ate his breakfast. "It was bad enough for Manfred to thoughtlessly lose his life in my conservatory: And here’s a letter from George Arnott. He has a great deal of complaint about you, Angela." "I am properly flattered by his consideration," Angela said coldly. "Oh, that’s all very well, young lady. But you are going to marry George Arnott all the same. That young scoundrel Denvers had better make the most of his time." "He will do that without any encouragement from you," Angela replied. "Mr. Arnott is an unspeakable little cad, and I would as soon marry your butler. Indeed, I insult the butler by comparison." An ugly smile crossed Frobisher’s face, but he carried the conversation no further. He was puzzled and bewildered, and neither feeling was palatable. He had been outgeneralled by a woman, and the reflection was bitter. But he was going to have his own way over this matter, as Angela would discover. "Mr. Arnott to see you, sir," the butler announced. "In the library, sir." Arnott seemed to be anxious about something. He was fussing up and down the library with a mass of papers in his hand. His manner was hardly flattering. "Well, you have made a nice mess of it," he said, "you and Lefroy between you. He’s bolted." Frobisher chuckled for the first time since he rose. "Bet you a penny old Benstein had found out all about those forgeries," he said. "Lefroy didn’t know that I was _au fait_ as to that transaction. So Lefroy has retired discreetly—urgent business on behalf of the master, and all that kind of thing, eh? That leaves the field clear for us." "To a certain extent, perhaps. But you won’t get the concessions. Hamid Khan has been utterly beaten by Mrs. Benstein and your friend Harold Denvers. It appears that Mrs. Benstein knew Hamid Khan years ago, he being no more of a Koord than you or I. The Shan has dismissed him, and at the present moment is on his way to Paris with Denvers." A round rasping oath shot from Frobisher’s lips. "So that young blackguard was in it," he exclaimed. "I fancied so."