“Mr. Lucius,” murmured a gentleman superbly tailored and faultlessly barbered, “suite 17, if you please. Have you then the business with him? But yes? Then I, myself will personally conduct you to him.” He shrugged his perfectly-fitted shoulders with a shrug that betokened much to a receptive mind. “Mr. Lucius—he is indeed a personage—— But yes!” Mr. Bathurst appeared to be in no mood to contradict him. He followed the gentleman upstairs. Mr. Lucius was in! Mr. Lucius was pacing the floor of his room after the manner of an infuriated tiger. It was evident that Mr. Lucius was very much annoyed! “Ah, Bathurst,” he exclaimed, with a shade of relief in his tone, “so you’re here at last. I am indeed pleased. Sit down. This terrible business is wearing my nerves to pieces. In fact I’m thoroughly unnerved and nearly worried out of my life. Doubtless you’ve seen this morning’s paper?” Mr. Bathurst had. “Did His Royal Highness allude——” Mr. Lucius’s hand stopped him with a dramatic gesture. “Please respect my incognito. You have a saying, ‘The walls have the ears.’ Pardon my seeming insistence on the point.” Anthony murmured what he considered was a dignified apology. Then he completed his unfinished sentence, “Did Mr. Lucius allude to the matter that the Press were calling ‘The Seabourne Murder’?” Mr. Lucius clapped the palms of his two hands together in uncontrollable emotion. Anthony realised at once that His Royal Highness was certainly in a highly-nervous state and that his previous protestations to that effect had strong foundation. He had been frightened by something and frightened badly. Anthony remembered his parting words at their interview of a week ago. He had threatened to let nothing stand in his way—and at the moment was badly rattled. Anthony decided upon reflection, that it promised to turn out a distinctly interesting case. His host stopped his nervy pacing of the room and plunged himself ill-humouredly into an arm-chair. “I will be very frank,” he commenced. “Although it goes against the grain of my inclination—yet I will tell you all.” He laid his finely-shaped hand upon Anthony’s arm with an imperious movement. “After I left your rooms, Mr. Bathurst, at the end of last week, I drove straight to my hotel ‘The Florizel.’ And although I was very much preoccupied on the journey, nevertheless I was convinced when I reached my destination that I had been followed. By two men! They were hanging about outside your rooms when I left there—and I am positive that they followed me in a small two-seater car to my hotel. However, it is of the smallest importance, perhaps. What I am going to tell you now belongs to what you will call—a different category. ‘_Une autre galère._’ By the next morning’s post I received another surprising communication. Not in the atrocious handwriting of that ‘detestable’—no—from a lady.” He paused to see the effect of his words but Anthony’s face was as inscrutable as ever. “In fact, Mr.