"What do you know about Louise O'Donnel?" "Nothing." "Nothing? Tennant, I say!" "I heard it mentioned for the first time in my life last night." "Last night?" The coincidence made me shiver again. "As I was coming up from Brighton." "Brighton?" I had to gasp for breath. "Did you come up last night from Brighton? By what train?" "The 8.40." I figured it out in my mind. I should not be surprised if that was the identical train which had rattled over the arch while Louise and I had been leaning against the gate, just before I did something for the Honour of the Club. And Tennant was in it. "Was the long arm of coincidence going to make things pleasant for me?" "What did you hear about Louise O'Donnel as you were coming up from Brighton?" "Nothing. The name was casually mentioned in my hearing, that was all. It seems to have stuck in my head." It did seem to have stuck in his head--and it seemed to have crept unawares from the ends of his fingers. That something had been said or done to fix the name in his memory, I did not doubt. What had been said or done was another matter. Somehow I did not seem to care to question him too closely. Generally, in his own placid, fish-like fashion, Tennant is as cool as you please. Then he was as fidgety as if he had been sitting on hot bricks. He said he was ill, and he looked it--if his ailment was not more mental than physical I misjudged him. I clean forgot all about the Boomjopf shares, which I had come up to instruct him to buy. I left Tennant in Danby's without having mentioned them to him from first to last. Indeed, I never thought of them till I pulled Groeden's tip out of my pocket when I got home to dress for dinner. Seeing the girl's name upon that sheet of paper made me all of a fluster. Scarcely had I left Danby's when I all but cannoned into my scamp of a brother. He seemed as little pleased to see me as I was to see him, but as I had seen and heard nothing of him for the last two years, I thought that I might as well do the fraternal. He looked seedy enough, and cad enough to boot. The cad was in his face and bearing; the seediness was in his clothes. He had on what looked like, not a second, but a fourth-hand overcoat, trimmed with the usual imitation astrachan. If he had his way, I believe that he would be buried in imitation astrachan. "Not in prison then?" "No." He fidgeted inside his clothes. "I'm not in prison." "Recently come out?" "Nor have I recently come out." "Or just going in?" "Not unless, my dear Reginald, it is to visit you." Alexander was cheeky; he must be in funds, although he did not look it. "May I ask, my dear Alexander, what means you are at present taking to increase your fortune?" He blew his nose with an old silk handkerchief and a flourish. Did he ever do anything without a flourish--even pick a pocket?