Mrs. Gastrell's glance.

"D'you know who that is, that woman who has just come in?" I inquired
carelessly, indicating her as I rose.

"That?" Mrs. Stapleton answered, looking full at her, and this time
their eyes met in a cold stare. "No, I have no idea."

I confess that this flat untruth, spoken with such absolute
_sang-froid,_ somewhat disconcerted me. For I could not be in the least
doubt that I had distinctly seen the two women greet each other with
that brief glance of mutual recognition.




CHAPTER VI


THE HOUSE IN GRAFTON STREET

One afternoon, some days later, I was sitting in my flat in South Molton
Street, smoking a pipe and carelessly skimming an evening paper, when my
man brought me some letters which had just arrived.

Several I tossed aside unopened--I recognized the handwritings and was
in no haste to absorb the contents of epistles from acquaintances whose
company, at the best of times, "bored me stiff," as some Americans say.
But the letter was there that I had expected in the morning, and at once
I tore it open.