He checked the car and listened. Then he turned back to her as the shouts became intelligible to his ears. “Bank Frauds’ Sensation—suicide of Sir Felix Warburton—in his cell.” He accelerated immediately. “Pretty rotten business that,” he declared with anxiety, “and the Chief Constable glad-ragging it at the Hunt Ball. I shall be in the soup properly if I’m not careful.” But Sheila Delaney’s sympathy was not entirely for him. “Suicide,” she whispered, half to herself, “how awful.” They drove home quietly—neither saying much. As she ran down the garden path of her bungalow, Carruthers called out to her. “I’ll come round before Easter, Sheila—and take you for a spin—may I—are you on?” “Of course,” she sang back. “Good night.” But she never rode with him again. On a wet night during the following month of March, Major Carruthers was motoring home, when his car skidded badly and overturned . . . when that happened Sheila Delaney lost a good friend and the public service a very gallant gentleman. Chapter II Mr. Bathurst Receives a Distinguished Visitor Anthony Bathurst propped the letter against the side of the matutinal coffee-pot and read it carefully for the fourth time since he had received it less than half an hour before. As he finished it he grimaced deliberately and removed the brown top of his second egg somewhat absent-mindedly. The letter and envelope were of heavy cream-laid notepaper—extremely strong and stiff. The heading was “Hotel Florizel, W.” The letter read as follows: “There will call upon you to-day—between 11.30 and 12 o’clock—a gentleman who desires to lay before you a matter of urgent and peculiar importance. Besides this importance it possesses an exceedingly delicate significance which will entail your strictest discretion. This gentleman, who is also the writer of this letter, is aware—upon unimpeachable authority—that in this last respect you may be thoroughly relied upon inasmuch as your unique ability is matched by your tact and integrity. Your services in any circumstances, will be handsomely rewarded—particularly so in the event of your bringing the affair in question to a successful conclusion. The writer thoroughly understands that it is not your practice to undertake work of this kind professionally—yet hopes to awaken your interest in his case sufficiently intensely for you to render him the assistance he requires.”