"Look here," he said. "I owe you this at any rate. I have just caught our friend here watching this house. Have you ever seen him before?" Hurd looked down into the face of the man who, with an evil shrug of the shoulders, had resigned himself--for the present--to the inevitable. "Never," he answered. "Can't say I'm particularly anxious to see him again. Convert of yours?" he asked, with a sneer. "He is the man who visited your father on the night of his death," Macheson said. Stephen Hurd was like a man electrified. He seized hold of the other's arm in excitement. "Is this true?" he demanded. The man blinked his eyes. "You have to prove it," he said. "I admit nothing." "You can leave him to me," Stephen Hurd said, turning to Macheson. Macheson nodded and prepared to walk on. "There is a police-station behind to the left," he remarked. Hurd took no notice. He had thrust his arm tightly through the other man's. "I have been looking for you," he said eagerly. "We must have a talk together. We will take this hansom," he added, hailing one. The man drew back. "Are you going to take me to the police-station?" he demanded. "Police-station, no!" Hurd answered roughly. "What good would that do me? Get in! Café Monico!" CHAPTER XI THE WAY OF SALVATION Holderness leaned back in his worn leather chair and shouted with laughter. He treated with absolute indifference the white anger in Macheson's face. "Victor," he cried, "don't look at me as though you wanted to punch my head. Down on your knees, man, and pray for a sense of humour. It's the very salt of life." "That's all very well," Macheson answered, "but I can't exactly see----" "That's because you're deficient," Holderness shouted, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I haven't laughed so much for ages. Here you come from the East to the West, with all the world's tragedy tearing at your heart, flowing from your lips, a flagellator, a hater of the people to whom you speak, seeking only to strike and to wound, and they accept you as a new sensation! They bare their back to your whip! They have made you the fashion! Oh! this funny, funny world of ours!" Macheson smiled grimly. "I'll grant you the elements of humour in the situation," he said, "but you can scarcely expect me to appreciate it, can you? I never came here to play the mountebank, to provide a new sensation for these tired dolls of Society. Dick, do you think St. Paul could have opened their eyes?" Holderness shook his head. "I don't know," he declared. "They're a difficult class--you see, they have pluck, and a sort of fantastic philosophy which goes with breeding. They're not easily scared."