"No, thank you," she said coldly, snatching up her cloak, "Mr. Lazarus will see me down," and without another word she swept out of the room, followed by Ezra, who was much astonished at the rebuff Keith had received. "What's that for?" asked Mortimer looking up. "I thought you were the white boy there." "I'm sure I don't know," said Keith, in a puzzled tone. "She has been rather cold to me for the last three months, but she never snubbed me till now." "Oh, she's never the same two minutes together," said Mortimer, turning once more to his desk. "Have a drink?" Keith nodded, whereupon Mortimer, who was the most hospitable of men, brought forth whisky and seltzer. As he was filling the glasses, Ezra re-entered with Keith's coat. "Caprice carried this downstairs with her by mistake," he said, giving it to Keith, "and called me back to return it." "Gad! she went off in such a whirlwind of passion I don't wonder she took it. I'm glad she left the chair," said Mortimer coolly. "Will you join us?" "No, thanks," replied Ezra, putting on his hat. "I've got to go back to the office. Good-night. See you to-morrow, Keith; you can settle with Mortimer about the agreement," and thereupon he vanished. Keith and Mortimer sat down, and the latter drafted out an agreement about the play which he promised to send to his lawyer, and then, if the young men approved of it, the whole affair could be settled right off. This took a considerable time, and it was about half-past twelve when Keith, having said good-night to Mortimer, left the theatre. He walked down Collins Street, smoking his cigarette, and thinking about his good luck and Eugénie. How delighted she would be at his success. He would make lots of money, and then he could marry her. After wandering about for some considerable time, he turned homeward. Walking up Bourke Street, he entered Russell Street, and went on towards East Melbourne. Passing along in front of Lazarus' shop, he saw a man leaning against the door. "What are you doing there?" asked Keith sharply, going up to him. The man struck out feebly with his fists, and giving an indistinct growl, lurched heavily against Keith, who promptly knocked him down, and had a tussle with him. The moon was shining brightly, and, as the light fell on his face, Keith recognised him instantly--it was Randolph Villiers. "You'd better go home, Villiers," he said quickly, raising him to his feet, "you'll be getting into trouble." "Go to devil," said Mr. Villiers, in a husky voice, lurching into the centre of the street. "I'm out on business. I know what I know, and if you knew what I knew, you'd know a lot--eh! wouldn't you?" and he leered at Stewart. "Pah, you're drunk," said Stewart in disgust, turning on his heel; "you'd better get home, or you'll get into some mischief." "No, I won't," growled Villiers, "but I know some 'un as will." "Who?"