"Thank you, no," she replied, holding out her hand. "I have not yet said good-by to Captain Holderness and his sister. Good-by, Mr. Lutchester!" Her farewell was purposely chilly. It seemed as though the slight sparring in which they had indulged throughout luncheon-time, had found its culmination in an antipathy which she had no desire to conceal. Lutchester, however, only smiled. "Nowadays," he observed, "that is a word which it is never necessary to use." She withdrew her hand from his somewhat too tenacious clasp. Something in his manner puzzled as well as irritated her. "Do you mean that you, too, are thinking of taking a holiday from your strenuous labours?" she asked. "Perhaps America is the safest country in the world just now for an Englishman who--" She stopped short, realising the lengths towards which her causeless pique was carrying her. "Prefers departmental work to fighting, were you going to add?" he said quietly. "Well, perhaps you are right. At any rate, I will content myself by saying au revoir." He passed through the turnstile door and disappeared. Pamela made her adieux to Holderness and his sister, and then, recognising some acquaintances, turned back into the restaurant to speak to them. Fischer, who had just received his hat and cane from the cloakroom attendant, stood watching her. CHAPTER III Pamela, after a brief conversation with her friends, once more left the restaurant. In the lobby she called Ferrani to her. "Has Mr. Fischer gone, Ferrani?" she asked. "Not two minutes ago," the man replied. "You wish to speak to him? I can stop him even now." She shook her head. "On the contrary," she said drily, "Mr. Fischer represents a type of my countrymen of whom I am not very fond. He is a great patron of yours, is he not?" "He is a large shareholder in the company," Ferrani confessed. "Then your restaurant will prosper," she told him. "Mr. Fischer has the name of being very fortunate.... That was a wonderful luncheon you gave us to-day." "Madame is very kind." "Will you do me a favour?" Ferrani's gesture was all-expressive. Words were entirely superfluous. "I want two addresses, please. First, the address of Joseph, your head musician, and, secondly, the address of Hassan, your coffee-maker." Ferrani effectually concealed any surprise he might have felt. He tore a page from his pocket-book. "Both I know," he declared. "Hassan lodges at a shop eighty yards away. The name is Haines, and there are newspaper placards outside the door." "That is quite enough," Pamela murmured. "As for Monsieur Joseph," Ferrani continued, "that is a different matter. He has, I understand, a small flat in Tower Mansions, Tower Street, leading off the Edgware Road. The number is 18C. So!" He wrote it down and passed it to her. Pamela thanked him and stood up.