It was close on midnight when we all assembled in the hall preparatory to leaving—those of us who were leaving. Hugesson Gastrell had left long before, in fact immediately after dinner, as he had, he said, an important appointment in London. Somebody nudged me lightly as he brushed past, and glancing round I caught Osborne's eye. He made no sign whatever, yet there was something in his look which made me think he wanted me, and a minute later I sauntered after him into the room where the hats and coats had been. But for us, the room was now deserted. Glancing quickly to right and left, Jack walked over to a corner where a tall screen stood. There was nobody behind it. He beckoned to me, and I approached. "We are among a set of scoundrels," he said rapidly, under his breath. "I am glad to see that you too didn't recognize him." "Recognize whom?" I asked in astonishment, also speaking in a whisper. "Preston, the ex-detective. I introduced him to you the last time we met in town." "I remember the man perfectly, but surely he isn't here." Jack's lips stretched into a grin. "'Lord Cranmere,'" he said. "That's Preston!" He chuckled. "Cranmere's own brother was actually deceived when we brought the two together, as a test," he went on. "Preston is a genius. He doesn't merely 'make up' to look like someone else; he doesn't, when he is made up, just impersonate the character; for the time he _is_ the man, he 'feels like him,' he says, he shares his views, he becomes his other ego. He has the advantage in this case of knowing Cranmere well, and he has, in consequence, excelled himself to-night. The way he has hit off Cranmere's lisp is marvellous. Easterton, who meets Cranmere frequently, is at this moment in the hall arguing with Preston about land taxation and small holdings, under the impression that he is talking to Cranmere. It really is rather amusing." When I had expressed my astonishment, and we had talked for a minute or two, he suddenly grew serious. "But remember, Mike," he said, laying his hand upon my shoulder, "nobody knows this—nobody but you and I. Preston has assured me that the success of our efforts to run the leaders of this gang to ground—he tells me he is sure there is a gang working together and playing into one another's hands very cleverly—will largely depend upon our discreetness and our secretiveness, also upon our tact and our knowledge of when to act. So not a word, mind; not a syllable even to Dulcie Challoner—have I your promise?" Dulcie and I talked but little as we sped homeward through the darkness. She seemed depressed, I thought, though she assured me that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself and was feeling quite well. I must say that the "mental atmosphere" of that party had affected me unpleasantly, though I could not have said precisely why.