"And that we shall be parted!" he cried, starting. "You are certainly cheerful to-day." And he smiled. "I ought to be, after your lovely present," she said, touching the pearls upon her neck with her white hand. "But I confess to you, dearest, I am not. I am too supremely happy, and for that reason alone I dread lest it may pass as all things in our life pass, and leave only bitter regrets and sad disappointments behind." "You speak in enigmas, Jean," he said, bending earnestly to her again. "Tell me what really distresses you. Do you fear something real and tangible, or is it only some vague foreboding?" "The latter," she responded. "I seem always to see a grim, dark shadow stretched before my path." Bracondale remained silent in wonder for some time. Then with words of comfort and reassurance, he again pressed his lips to hers, and urged her to enjoy her happiness to its full extent, and to let the future take care of itself. "Have no care to-day, darling," he added. "It is your birthday, and I am with you." "Ah, yes, you are here--you, my own dear husband!" And raising her lips, she smiled happily, and kissed him of her own accord. CHAPTER XX. CROOKED CONFIDENCES. About noon on the same day which Jean and her husband spent so happily together by the Devon sea, two men of about thirty-five met in the cosy little American bar of a well-known London hotel. Both were wealthy Americans, smartly dressed in summer tweeds, and wore soft felt hats of American shape. One, a tall, thin, hard-faced man, who had been drinking a cocktail and chatting with the barmaid while awaiting his friend, turned as the other entered, and in his pronounced American accent exclaimed: "Halloa, boy! Thought you weren't coming. Say, you're late." The other--dark, clean-shaven, with a broad brow, and rather good-looking--grasped his friend's hand and ordered a drink. Then, tossing it off at one gulp, he walked with his friend into the adjoining smoking-room, where they could be alone. "What's up?" asked the newcomer, in a low, eager voice. "Look here, Hoggan, my boy," exclaimed the taller of the two to the newcomer, "I'm glad you've come along. I 'phoned you to your hotel at half-past ten, but you were out. It seems there's trouble over that game of poker you played with those two boys in Knightsbridge last night. They've been to the police, so you'd better clear out at once." "The police!" echoed the other, his dark brows knit. "Awkward, isn't it?" "Very. You go, old chap. Get across the Channel as quick as ever you can, or I guess you'll have some unwelcome visitors. Don't go back to the hotel. Abandon your traps, and clear out right away."