” Sir John breathed a long deep sigh. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. Nobody who cared. . She wanted to turn him. He threw her on the bed. She regarded the young man coldly. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering.
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