"It is no belief," she replied. "It is certainty. I took it myself from Graham's pocket." Lutchester nodded. "Good! Have you opened it?" "I have," she declared. "It is without doubt, the formula." "On the other hand, I am here to assure you that it is not," Lutchester replied. Her hand was tearing at the cushion by her side. She moistened her lips. There was something about Lutchester hatefully convincing. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "Is this a trick. You won't get it! No one but Mr. Haskall will get that formula from me!" Lutchester smiled. "It will only puzzle him when he gets it! To tell you the truth, the formula is rubbish." "I don't believe you," she said firmly. "If you think you are going to interfere with my handing it over to him, you are mistaken." "I have no wish to do anything of the sort," Lutchester assured her. "Make a bargain with me. Mr. Haskall will be here soon. Unfasten the little package you are carrying somewhere about your person, hand him the envelope and watch his face. If he tells you that what you have offered him is a coherent and possible formula for an explosive, then you can look upon me for ever afterwards as the poor, foolish person you sometimes seem to consider me. If, on the other hand, he tells you that it is rubbish, I shall expect you at the Ritz-Carlton at half-past eight." There was a ring at the bell. She rose to her feet. "I accept," she declared. "That is Mr. Haskall. And, by the bye, Mr. Lutchester, don't order too elaborate a dinner, for I am very much afraid you will have to eat it all yourself. Now, au revoir," she added, as the door was opened in obedience to her summons and a servant stood prepared to show him out. "If we don't turn up to-night, you will know the reason." "I am very hopeful," Lutchester replied, as he turned away. CHAPTER XXIX At five-and-twenty minutes past eight that evening Lutchester, who was waiting in the entrance hall of the Ritz-Carlton, became just a little restless. At half-past, his absorption in an evening paper, over the top of which he looked at every newcomer, was almost farcical. At five-and-twenty to nine Pamela arrived. He advanced down the lounge to meet her. Her face was inscrutable, her smile conventional. Yet she had come! He looked over his shoulder towards the men's coat room. "Your brother?" "I sent Jim to his club," she said. "I want to have a confidential talk with you, Mr. Lutchester." "I am very flattered," he told her, with real earnestness. She vanished for a few moments in the cloakroom, and reappeared, a radiant vision in deep blue silk. Her hair was gathered in a coil at the top of her head, and surmounted with an ornament of pearls. "You are looking at my headdress," she remarked, as they walked into the room. "It is the style you admire, is it not?"