"You had better see her," said his host suddenly. Crawley shook his head. "A parent's feelings," he protested, "have a sense of decency, Reginald or Horace or Hector; I always forget your London name. No," he said, "I won't accept your suggestion, but I have got a proposition to make to you, and it concerns a certain relative of John Minute--a nice, young fellow who will one day secure the old man's swag." "Will he?" said the other between his teeth. They sat for two hours discussing the proposition, and then Crawley rose to leave. "I leave my final jar for the last," he said pleasantly. He had finished the contents of the flask, and was in a very amiable frame of mind. "You are in some danger, my young friend, and I, your guardian angel, have discovered it. You have a valet at one of your numerous addresses." "A chauffeur," corrected the other; "a Swede, Jonsen." Crawley nodded. "I thought he was a Swede." "Have you seen him?" asked the other quickly. "He came down to make some inquiries in Eastbourne," said Crawley, "and I happened to meet him. One of those talkative fellows who opens his heart to a uniform. I stopped him from going to the house, so I saved you a shock--if John Minute had been there, I mean." The other bit his lips, and his face showed his concern. "That's bad," he said. "He has been very restless and rather impertinent lately, and has been looking for another job. What did you tell him?" "I told him to come down next Wednesday," said Crawley. "I thought you'd like to make a few arrangements in the meantime." He held out his hand, and the young man, who did not mistake the gesture, dived into his pockets with a scowl and handed four five-pound notes into the outstretched palm. "It will just pay my taxi," said Crawley light-heartedly. The other went upstairs. He found the girl sitting where he had left her in her bedroom. "Clear out of here," he said roughly. "I want the room." Meekly she obeyed. He locked the door behind her, lifted a suitcase on to the bed, and, opening it, took out a small Japanese box. From this he removed a tiny glass pestle and mortar, six little vials, a hypodermic syringe, and a small spirit lamp. Then from his pocket he took a cigarette case and removed two cigarettes which he laid carefully on the dressing table. He was busy for the greater part of the hour. As for the girl, she spent that time in the cold dining room huddled up in a chair, weeping softly to herself. CHAPTER III FOUR IMPORTANT CHARACTERS The writer pauses here to say that the story of "The Man Who Knew" is an unusual one. It is reconstructed partly from the reports of a certain trial, partly from the confidential matter which has come into the writer's hands from Saul Arthur Mann and his extraordinary bureau, and partly from the private diary which May Nuttall put at the writer's disposal.