some one climbing to the topmost landing he was almost convinced that,
as usual, the unexpected was about to happen. It did happen, but took
its own peculiar path. The unknown rang the bell of No. 17, and, after
a slight delay, was admitted.

Theydon smiled at the anticlimax. A trivial mystery had developed
along strictly orthodox lines. A rather good-looking and distinctly
well-dressed lady, a Mrs. Lester, occupied No. 17. She lived alone,
too, he believed. At any rate, he had never seen any other person,
except an elderly servant, enter or leave the opposite flat, and he
had encountered the tenant herself so seldom that he was not quite
certain of recognizing her apart from the environment of the staircase
which provided their occasional meeting place.

Then he sighed. Romance evidently denied her magic presence to one who
wooed her assiduously by his pen. He was yet to learn that the
alluring sprite had not only favored him with her attentions during
the past twenty minutes, but meant to stick to him like his own shadow
for many a day. And he frowned, too.

He did not approve of that pretty girl's father visiting the
attractive Mrs. Lester in conditions which savored of something
underhanded and clandestine. The man had deliberately misled his
daughter. He left her with a lie on his lips; yet never were
appearances more deceptive, for the stranger had the outward aspect of
one whose word was his bond.

"Oh, dash it all, what business is it of mine, anyhow?" growled
Theydon, and he laughed sourly as he sat down to write a letter which
Bates could take to the post, thus himself practicing a slight deceit