Not that he had any fear of the wine. Mrs. May was a criminal, but she was not a clumsy one. She would never permit herself to take risks like that. Nevertheless, it was very pleasant, for when Mrs. May chose to exercise her fascinations there was no more delightful woman. And there was always the chance of picking up useful information. Mrs. May touched lightly on Tchigorsky, to which Geoffrey responded with proper gravity. Had Mrs. May known that Tchigorsky himself was not more than a mile away she would have been less easy in her mind. "No more visions lately?" she asked. "No more," Geoffrey replied. "But they will come again. We are hopelessly and utterly doomed; nothing can save us. It is to be my turn next." Mrs. May started. There was an expression on her face that was not all sympathy. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded. Geoffrey slowly extracted from his pocket a sheet of paper. He had discovered it in his plate that morning at breakfast time. Long and earnestly it had been discussed by himself and Ralph and Tchigorsky, and it had been the suggestion of the last-named that Geoffrey should find some pretext for mentioning it to Mrs. May. "This was by my plate this morning," he said. "I don't mind showing it to you, because you are a good friend of mine. It is a warning." It was a plain half sheet of note-paper, the sort sold in general shops at so many sheets a penny. The envelope was to match. Just a few lines had been laboriously printed on the paper. "Take care," it ran. "You are marked down for the next victim; and they are not likely to fail. You are not to go on the sea till you hear from me once more; you are not to venture along the cliffs. If you show this to anybody I shall not be able to warn you again, and your doom will be sealed.--ONE WHO LOVES YOU." That was all there was; nothing at the top or the bottom. Mrs. May turned this over with a puzzled face and a hand that shook slightly. Under her smile was another expression, the look of one who has been betrayed and is in a position to lay her hand upon the guilty person. "You are fortunate to have friends with the enemy," she said. "But do you think you were wise to show this to me?" She was playing with him as the cat plays with the mouse. It was a temptation she could not resist, feeling sure that Geoffrey would not understand. But he did, though he did not show it on his face. "Why not?" he asked innocently. "Are you not my friend? Personally I believe it is a hoax to frighten me. You can keep that paper if you please." "Then you are not going to take any notice of the warning?" asked Mrs. May. There was a note of curiosity, sharp, eager curiosity, in the question. Geoffrey did not fail to notice it, though he shook his head carelessly.