Not that Luke realized the reason of this change. The thought that he could be suspected of a crime was as far removed from his ken as the desire to visit the moon. He could not understand the officer's attitude; it puzzled him, and put him on his guard--but it was just the instinct of self-preservation, of caution, which comes to men who have had to fight the world, and who have met enemies where they least expected to find one. "Do you remember," now resumed Travers after that slight pause, which had seemed very long to Luke, but as a matter of fact had only lasted a short minute, "whether you saw Mr. Philip de Mountford speaking with any one when you left him in the lobby of the club?" "I told you," said Luke impatiently, "that he was alone, except for the hall porter." "Alone in the whole club house?" "Alone," reiterated Luke with measured emphasis, "in the lobby of the Veterans' Club." "How many rooms has the club?" "I don't know; it was the first time I had ever been there." "Did you know any of the staff?" "No--since I had never been there before." "You were not known to any member of the staff?" "Not that I know of." "You were shown into the club rooms without being known there at all?" "The Veterans' Club is a new one, and its rules apparently are not very strict. I asked if Mr. de Mountford was in the club and was told that I should find him in the smoking room, and I did." "How long did your interview with Mr. de Mountford last?" "About three quarters of an hour I should say." "And it was of a perfectly amicable nature?" "Of a perfectly indifferent nature," corrected Luke. "And after the interview what did you do?" "I walked out of the club." "But after that?" "I walked about." "In the fog?" This in an undisguised tone of surprise. "In the fog." "In what direction?" "Really," here rejoined Luke with a sudden show of resentment, "Mr.--er--Travers, I fail to see how my movements can be of concern to you." He was certainly not going to tell this man that he had made his way through the fog as far as the residence of the Danish Minister, and that he had walked up and down for over an hour outside that house like a love-sick fool, like a doting idiot, because he knew that if he waited patiently he would presently hear the faint echo of a well-trained contralto voice whose mellowness would come to him through the closed windows of the brilliantly illumined mansion, and would ease for a moment the wild longing of his heart.