"Forgive my starting at your name, won't you, Mr. Maraton?" she began.
"It is uncommon, isn't it, and I'm only just over from the States. I
dare say you read about all those awful doings in Chicago."

Maraton, without direct reply, inclined his head. Mrs.
Bollington-Watts continued volubly.

"My brother is a judge out in Chicago. It was he who signed the warrant
for Maraton's arrest. I'm afraid our people are getting much too
scared, nowadays, about that sort of thing. We don't seem to be able to
enforce our laws like you do over here. They are all saying now that it
ought to have been served and the man shot if there had been any
resistance."

"In which case," Maraton remarked, "I should not have had the pleasure
of making your acquaintance, Mrs. Bollington-Watts."

She stared at him for a moment, speechless through sheer lack of
comprehension. Then she glanced at Lady Elisabeth and the truth
dawned upon her. It was more than she could grapple with at first,
however.

"You? But Lady Elisabeth--? But you, Mr. Maraton--are you really the
man who mur--who was associated with all that trouble in Chicago?"

"I am, without a doubt, the man," Maraton assented cheerfully. "I am an
enemy of your class, Mrs. Bollington-Watts. Your husband is the steel
millionaire, isn't he? And I am also a Socialist of the most militant
and modern type. Nevertheless, I can assure you, for these few moments