The insult passed unnoticed. Stuyvie was gazing, pop-eyed, at a man who suddenly appeared at the mouth of the canopy, a tall fellow in a dripping raincoat. The newcomer's eyes were upon him. They were steady, unfriendly eyes. He advanced slowly. "I sha'n't wait," said Stuyvie, and swiftly passed out into the deluge. No other course was open to him. There was trouble ahead and trouble behind. Thomas Trotter laughed. The sallow-faced man made a trumpet of his hands and shouted after the departing one: "Beat it! He's coming!" The retreating footsteps quickened into a lively clatter. Trotter distinctly heard the sallow-faced man chuckle. The Marchioness and Jane went home in the big Millidew limousine instead of in a taxi. They left the restaurant soon after the departure of Stuyvesant Smith-Parvis. The pensive-looking stranger from Scotland Yard came out close upon their heels. He was looking for his American guide. Trotter brought his car up to the awning and grinned broadly as he leaned forward for "orders." "Home, James," said Lady Jane, loftily. "Very good, my lady," said Trotter. The man from Scotland Yard squinted narrowly at the chauffeur's face. He moved a few paces nearer and stared harder. For a long time after the car had rolled away, he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, frowning perplexedly. Then he shook his head and apparently gave it up. He went inside to look for his friend. The next day, the sallow-faced detective received instructions over the telephone from one who refused to give his name to the operator. He was commanded to keep close watch on the movements of a certain party, and to await further orders. "I shall be out of town for a week or ten days," explained young Mr. Smith-Parvis. "I see," said the sallow-faced man. "Good idea. That guy--" But the receiver at the other end clicked rudely and without ceremony. Stuyvesant took an afternoon train for Virginia Hot Springs. At the Pennsylvania Station he bought all of the newspapers,--morning, noon and night. There wasn't a line in any one of them about the fracas. He was rather hurt about it. He was beginning to feel proud of his achievement. By the time the train reached Philadelphia he had worked himself into quite a fury over the way the New York papers suppress things that really ought to be printed. Subsidized, that's what they were. Jolly well bribed. He had given the fellow,--whoever he was,--a well-deserved drubbing, and the world would never hear of it! Miss Emsdale would not hear of it. He very much wished her to hear of it, too. The farther away he got from New York the more active became the conviction that he owed it to himself to go back there and thrash the fellow all over again, as publicly as possible,--in front of the Public Library at four o'clock in the afternoon, while he was about it.