Melun gave both the red-haired woman and the baronet a distinctly ugly look. He was, indeed, about to raise some objection when Mme. Estelle spoke again. “I will see you to-morrow,” she said, turning quickly towards him. Melun bit his lips, but said nothing, though he followed her and the baronet out of the room and saw them to the carriage, which was a well-appointed, quiet little brougham drawn by a well-bred bay. Westerham was somewhat puzzled by all that had taken place, but he had, at any rate, quickly divined that Mme. Estelle stood in no particular fear of Melun, and both for reasons of vanity and policy he determined to show her that he himself could, as a matter of fact, exercise some authority over the evil-looking captain. Westerham thrust his head out of the carriage as it was driving away and said sharply to Melun, “I shall expect you to-morrow at noon.” For quite a while they drove north in silence. It was not, indeed, until they were passing through Regent Street that Mme. Estelle turned to Westerham and spoke the first word. “Forgive my being so blunt,” she said, “but I think you are playing an exceedingly dangerous game.” “What it is possible for a woman to do is possible for me to do,” said Westerham. The woman sighed. “Ah, yes, possible,” she said, “and yet with you and with me things are quite different. You have nothing to gain and everything to lose—I have nothing to lose at all.” They drove on again in silence—a long silence, during which Westerham turned many things over in his mind, and the conclusion he came to was that it would be well to have this woman for his friend. They were driving past the graveyard of the St. John's Wood Chapel when he turned to her almost sharply and said, “Are you sure that I have nothing to gain?” Mme. Estelle turned and looked at him quickly, and her eyes were startled; the brilliant colour had left her face. “What do you mean?” she cried. “You are Sir Paul, aren't you?” “Madam,” said Westerham, almost gently, “I'm sorry if I startled you. Those who run great risks always imagine that the greatest object of every other person is to accomplish their downfall. I assure you that no such motive prompted me in making the bargain I have made with Melun.” “Then,” said the woman, “you can have no aim unless it be mere idle curiosity?” Westerham said nothing for the moment, but five minutes later, as though he were resuming a conversation which had been abruptly broken off, he said, “I am not so sure.” The carriage had now passed out of the Finchley Road into a quiet _cul-de-sac_, and had drawn up before a high wooden door let into a garden wall. Westerham assisted Mme. Estelle to alight. She asked him to ring the bell, which he did, and a second later the garden door opened by some unseen agency. When she had stepped into the garden, Mme. Estelle beckoned to Westerham to follow her, and he stepped into the garden and stood beside her.