"Matt!" Hamar exclaimed as they passed the tree behind which Lilian Rosenberg was hiding, "I smell scent--and what is more I recognize it. It is Violette de mer--the scent that--Rosenberg uses! You were with her this evening!" "I swear I wasn't!" Kelson replied. "I bought some scent in Regent Street this afternoon." "Humph," Hamar grunted. "I have my doubts." They walked on in silence till they came to a small iron gate, where the policemen left them, whilst he went to the lodge for the keys; and all the while Kelson was in terror, lest Hamar should catch sight of Lilian Rosenberg, who had kept close behind them, and was now standing, but a few yards away, trying to conceal her identity and escape notice. But the policeman on his return with the keys called out to her, and Kelson, fearing that she might be either taken in charge for loitering there, in apparently suspicious circumstances, or made to remain in the Park all night--neither of which contingencies he could possibly permit--at once came forward, and explained that she was a friend of his. The policeman was satisfied. The sight of another half-sovereign had rendered him more than polite, and, without saying a word, he let them all out together. The moment they were in the street, Hamar turned on Kelson, white with passion. "So," he said, "I was right after all--liar! fool! You would risk all our lives for a few hours' flirtation with this silly girl." "If it's only flirtation, Leon, what does it matter?" Curtis interposed. "For goodness' sake shut up wrangling and let's get home. I'm starving." "I shall have something to say to you to-morrow morning," Hamar remarked, in an undertone, to Lilian Rosenberg. "And I to you," was the furious reply. "I shall not forget the disrespectful way in which you have just spoken of me, in alluding to the scent." She signalled to a taxi, and giving Kelson a friendly good-night, jumped into it and was speedily whirled away. On the whole, the evening had been a disappointment. She had wanted to see the Unknown--the awful thing that had inspired Kelson and his colleagues with such unmitigated horror--and instead she had seen only an obsessed policeman--a cataleptic "copper"--who, had he not spoken in a strangely uncanny voice, would certainly have seemed to her absolutely ordinary. With regard to Hamar's displeasure, she was not in the slightest degree disturbed. He would never dare say anything to her. And after all that had occurred he would never venture to "sack her." All the same she hated him. There was just sufficient in her conduct to make the name he had called her by applicable--therefore her bitterest wrath and indignation were aroused against him. He had behaved unpardonably. She could kill him for it.