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cheery optimism with which he had begun the day left George and gave place to a grey gloom。 A dreadful phrase； haunting in its pathos； crept into his mind。 〃Ships that pass in the night！〃 It might easily turn out that way。 Indeed； thinking over the affair in all its aspects as he dried himself after his tub； George could not see how it could possibly turn out any other way。
He dressed moodily； and left the room to go down to breakfast。 Breakfast would at least alleviate this sinking feeling which was unmanning him。 And he could think more briskly after a cup or two of coffee。
He opened the door。 On a mat outside lay a letter。
The handwriting was feminine。 It was also in pencil； and strange to him。 He opened the envelope。
〃Dear Mr。 Bevan〃 （it began）。
With a sudden leap of the heart he looked at the signature。
The letter was signed 〃The Girl in the Cab。〃
〃DEAR MR。 BEVAN；
〃I hope you won't think me very rude； running off without waiting to say good…bye。 I had to。 I saw Percy driving up in a cab； and knew that he must have followed us。 He did not see me； so I got away all right。 I managed splendidly about the money； for I remembered that I was wearing a nice brooch； and stopped on the way to the station to pawn it。
〃Thank you ever so much again for all your wonderful kindness。
Yours； THE GIRL IN THE CAB。〃
George read the note twice on the way down to the breakfast room； and three times more during the meal； then； having mitted its contents to memory down to the last ma； he gave himself up to glowing thoughts。
What a girl！ He had never in his life before met a woman who could write a letter without a postscript； and this was but the smallest of her unusual gifts。 The resource of her； to think of pawning that brooch！ The sweetness of her to bother to send him a note！ More than ever before was he convinced that he had met his ideal； and more than ever before was he determined that a triviality like being unaware of her name and address should not keep him from her。 It was not as if he had no clue to go upon。 He knew that she lived two hours from London and started home from Waterloo。 It narrowed the thing down absurdly。 There were only about three counties in which she could possibly live； and a man must be a poor fellow who is incapable of searching through a few small counties for the girl he loves。 Especially a man with luck like his。
Luck is a goddess not to be coerced and forcibly wooed by those who seek her favours。 From such masterful spirits she turns away。 But it happens sometimes that； if we put our hand in hers with the humble trust of a little child； she will have pity on us； and not fail us in our hour of need。 On George； hopefully watching for something to turn up； she smiled almost immediately。
It was George's practice； when he lunched alone； to relieve the tedium of the meal with the assistance of reading matter in the shape of one or more of the evening papers。 Today； sitting down to a solitary repast at the Piccadilly grill…room； he had brought with him an early edition of the Evening News。 And one of the first items which met his eye was the following； embodied in a column on one of the inner pages devoted to humorous ments in prose and verse on the happenings of the day。 This particular happening the writer had apparently considered worthy of being dignified by rhyme。 It was headed：
〃THE PEER AND THE POLICEMAN。〃
〃Outside the 'Carlton；' 'tis averred； these stirring happenings occurred。 The hour； 'tis said （and no one doubts） was half…past two； or thereabouts。 The day was fair； the sky was blue； and everything was peaceful too； when suddenly a well…dressed gent engaged in heated argument and roundly to abuse began another well…dressed gentleman。 His suede…gloved fist he raised on high to dot the other in the eye。 Who knows what horrors might have been； had there not e upon the scene old London city's favourite son； Policeman C。 231。 'What means this conduct？ Prithee stop！' exclaimed that admirable slop。 With which he placed a warning hand upon the brawler's collarband。 We simply hate to tell the rest。 No subject here for flippant jest。 The mere remembrance of the tale has made our ink turn deadly pale。 Let us be brief。 Some demon sent stark madness on the well…dressed gent。 He gave the constable a punch just where the latter kept his lunch。 The constable said 'Well！ Well！ Well！' and marched him to a dungeon cell。 At Vine Street Station out it cameLord Belpher was the culprit's name。 But British Justice is severe alike on pauper and on peer； with even hand she holds the scale； a thumping fine； in lieu of gaol； induced Lord B。 to feel remorse and learn he mustn't punch the Force。〃
George's mutton chop congealed on the plate； untouched。 The French fried potatoes cooled off； unnoticed。 This was no time for food。 Rightly indeed had he relied upon his luck。 It had stood by him nobly。 With this clue； all was over except getting to the nearest Free Library and consulting Burke's Peerage。 He paid his bill and left the restaurant。
Ten minutes later he was drinking in the pregnant information that Belpher was the family name of the Earl of Marshmoreton； and that the present earl had one son； Percy Wilbraham Marsh； educ。 Eton and Christ Church； Oxford； and what the book with its customary curtness called 〃one d。〃Patricia Maud。 The family seat； said Burke； was Belpher Castle； Belpher； Hants。
Some hours later； seated in a first…class partment of a train that moved slowly out of Waterloo Station； George watched London vanish behind him。 In the pocket closest to his throbbing heart was a single ticket to Belpher。
CHAPTER 6。
At about the time that George Bevan's train was leaving Waterloo； a grey racing car drew up with a grinding of brakes and a sputter of gravel in front of the main entrance of Belpher Castle。 The slim and elegant young man at the wheel removed his goggles； pulled out a watch； and addressed the stout young man at his side。
〃Two hours and eighteen minutes from Hyde Park Corner； Boots。 Not so dusty； what？〃
His panion made no reply。 He appeared to be plunged in thought。 He； too； removed his goggles； revealing a florid and gloomy face； equipped； in addition to the usual features； with a small moustache and an extra chin。 He scowled forbiddingly at the charming scene which the goggles had hidden from him。
Before him； a symmetrical mass of grey stone and green ivy； Belpher Castle towered against a light blue sky。 On either side rolling park land spread as far as the eye could see； carpeted here and there with violets； dotted with great oaks and ashes and Spanish chestnuts； orderly； peaceful and English。 Nearer； on his left； were rose…gardens； in the centre of which； tilted at a sharp angle； appeared the seat of a pair of corduroy trousers； whose wearer seemed to be engaged in hunting for snails。 Thrushes sang in the green shrubberies； rooks cawed in the elms。 Somewhere in the distance sounded the tinkle of sheep bells and the lowing of cows。 It was； in fact； a scene which； lit by the evening sun of a perfect spring day and fanned by a gentle westerly wind； should have brought balm and soothing meditations to one who was the sole heir to all this Paradise。
But Percy； Lord Belpher； remained unforted by the notable co…operation of Man and Nature； and drew no solace from the reflection that all these pleasant things would one day be his own。 His mind was occupied at the moment； to the exclusion of all other thoughts； by the recollection of that painful scene in Bow Street Police Court。 The magistrate's remarks； which had been tactless and unsympathetic； still echoed in his ears。 And that infernal night in Vine Street police station 。 。 。 The darkness 。 。 。 The hard bed。 。 。 The discordant vocalising of the drunk and disorderly in the next cell。 。 。 。 Time might soften these memories； might lessen the sharp agony of them； but nothing could remove them altogether。
Percy had been shaken to the core of his being。 Physically； he was still stiff and sore from the plank bed。 Mentally； he was a volcano