Now, as she looked more closely, an extraordinary idea rose in her brain. Could it be? Yes, the girl was in deep mourning; her black, silk-clad ankles showed that. It was a long shot, but Bundle was convinced that her idea was right. She drew a long breath. "Look here," she said. "Are you by any chance Loraine Wade?" Loraine's eyes opened wide. "Yes, I am. How clever of you to know. We've never met, have we?" Bundle shook her head. "I wrote to you yesterday, though. I'm Bundle Brent." "It was so very kind of you to send me Gerry's letter," said Loraine. "I've written to thank you. I never expected to see you here." "I'll tell you why I'm here," said Bundle. "Did you know Ronny Devereux?" Loraine nodded. "He came over the day that Gerry--you know. And he's been to see me two or three times since. He was one of Gerry's greatest friends." "I know. Well--he's dead." Loraine's lips parted in surprise. "_Dead!_ But he always seemed so fit." Bundle narrated the events of the preceding day as briefly as possible. A look of fear and horror came into Loraine's face. "Then it _is_ true. It _is_ true." "What's true?" "What I've thought--what I've been thinking all these weeks. Gerald didn't die a natural death. He was killed." "You've thought that, have you?" "Yes. Gerry would never have taken things to make him sleep." She gave the little ghost of a laugh. "He slept much too well to need them. I always thought it queer. And _he_ thought so too--I know he did." "Who?" "Ronny. And now this happens. Now he's killed too." She paused and then went on: "That's what I came for to-day. That letter of Gerry's you sent me--as soon as I read it, I tried to get hold of Ronny, but they said he was away. So I thought I'd come and see Jimmy--he was Ronny's other great friend. I thought perhaps he'd tell me what I ought to do." "You mean--" Bundle paused. "About--Seven Dials." Loraine nodded. "You see--" she began. But at that moment Jimmy Thesiger entered the room. CHAPTER VIII VISITORS FOR JIMMY We must at this point go back to some twenty minutes earlier. To a moment when Jimmy Thesiger, emerging from the mists of sleep, was conscious of a familiar voice speaking unfamiliar words. His sleep-ridden brain tried for a moment to cope with the situation, but failed. He yawned and rolled over again. "A young lady, sir, has called to see you." The voice was implacable. So prepared was it to go on repeating the statement indefinitely that Jimmy resigned himself to the inevitable. He opened his eyes and blinked. "Eh, Stevens?" he said. "Say that again." "A young lady, sir, has called to see you." "Oh!" Jimmy strove to grasp the situation. "Why?" "I couldn't say, sir." "No, I suppose not. No," he thought it over. "I suppose you couldn't." Stevens swooped down upon a tray by the bedside. "I will bring you some fresh tea, sir. This is cold."