little chapel left standing in waste place. Perhaps I wonder sometimes,
but I not know."

Pamela drew three notes from her gold purse, smoothed them out and
handed them over.

"Three pounds, Hassan, silence, and good day! You'll live longer if you
open your windows now and then, and get a little fresh air, instead of
praying yourself hoarse."

Again the black figure swayed perilously towards her. She affected not
to notice, not to notice the hand which seemed for a moment as though
it would snatch the door handle from her grasp. She passed out
pleasantly and without haste. The last sound she heard was a groan.

"Done your bit o' business, eh?" the landlady asked curiously.

Pamela nodded assent.

"Rather an odd sort of lodger for you, isn't he?"

"Not so odd as his visitors," the woman retorted, with an evil sneer.

Pamela passed into the narrow street and drew a long sigh of relief.
Then she entered her car and gave the chauffeur an address from the
slip of paper which she carried in her hand. When they stopped outside
the little block of flats he prepared to follow her.

"Tough neighbourhood this, madam," he said.