With that the matter dropped for the time, since Helen and her new friend now reentered; and although Helen's manner was markedly depressed, Miss Ryland energetically turned the conversation upon the subject of the play which they had witnessed that evening. M. Max, when he took his departure, found that the rain had ceased, and accordingly he walked up Whitehall, interesting himself in those details of midnight London life so absorbing to the visitor, though usually overlooked by the resident. Punctually at half-past nine, a claret-colored figure appeared in sedate Harley Street. M. Gaston Max pressed the bell above which appeared: DR. BRUCE CUMBERLY. He was admitted by Garnham, who attended there daily during the hours when Dr. Cumberly was visible to patients, and presently found himself in the consulting room of the physician. “Good morning, M. Gaston!” said Cumberly, rising and shaking his visitor by the hand. “Pray sit down, and let us get to business. I can give you a clear half-hour.” Max, by way of reply, selected a card from one of the several divisions of his card-case, and placed it on the table. Cumberly glanced at it and started slightly, turning and surveying his visitor with a new interest. “You are M. Gaston Max!” he said, fixing his gray eyes upon the face of the man before him. “I understood my daughter to say”... Max waved his hands, deprecatingly. “It is in the first place to apologize,” he explained, “that I am here. I was presented to your daughter in the name of Gaston--which is at least part of my own name--and because other interests were involved I found myself in the painful position of being presented to you under the same false colors”... “Oh, dear, dear!” began Cumberly. “But--” “Ah! I protest, it is true,” continued Max with an inimitable movement of the shoulder; “and I regret it; but in my profession”... “Which you adorn, monsieur,” injected Cumberly. “Many thanks--but in my profession these little annoyances sometimes occur. At the earliest suitable occasion, I shall reveal myself to Miss Cumberly and Miss Ryland, but at present,”--he spread his palms eloquently, and raised his eyebrows--“morbleu! it is impossible.” “Certainly; I quite understand that. Your visit to London is a professional one? I am more than delighted to have met you, M. Max; your work on criminal anthroposcopy has an honored place on my shelves.” Again M. Max delivered himself of the deprecatory wave. “You cover me with confusion,” he protested; “for I fear in that book I have intruded upon sciences of which I know nothing, and of which you know much.” “On the contrary, you have contributed to those sciences, M. Max,” declared the physician; “and now, do I understand that the object of your call this morning?”... “In the first place it was to excuse myself--but in the second place, I come to ask your help.”