dine very passably, and, on having inscribed the bill with their temporarily worthless signatures, pay on some happier day. Very seldom, indeed, had the cavalier of the streets actually fallen to this pass; these were his most unfortunate days; and not even a bottle of the Rhine wine for which M. Stutz was famous-for such was the name of the polite and amiable patron of the Mont Agel Restaurant-was, on this evening, able to uplift him to the sardonic optimism with which he had always parried the most cruel thrusts of a vaga bond destiny.

Than the year 1922 there has never been a more dolorous year for gentlemen of enterprise, as instance the luckless experience of certain notorious figures in the world of finance, and though the cavalier of the streets was not only a gentleman of enterprise but also of imagination, even he could not imagine money where money was not. Whereat he was depressed.

But money, though, naturally of the first importance in an adventurous life, was not the immediate cause of Mr. Wagstaffe's depression as he dallied with a morsel of caviare and a piece of toast à la Madeleine. A face haunted his memory. A lovely face

it was, mature and gracious and remote. Ah, from him, how remote! This face (and with it grey eyes, witty and understanding eyes) had happened to him in the course of a most unfortunate episode some months ago. He would never see her again—or, rather, she would never see him. She would look through him, the cavalier of the streets, who had blackmailed her and then repented of his sin because of the beauty of her face and the bravery of her voice. But he would certainly see her, as an outcast in a wilderness may, through the leaves and tree-trunks of his prison, just glimpse a brilliant figure in a noble pageant; for the face that haunted him was of the world, and, in these days of many illustrated journals, had acquired an international reputation as one of the five leading faces of Europe (which, of course, must also include America, for all beautiful Americans live in Europe). Thus and thus it had come to pass that the cavalier of the streets, meshed in a hopeless admiration, nowadays found little pleasure in his way of life; nor did the pursuit and beguiling of "mugs," which had been his source of income and entertainment ever since he had acquired a taste for it at the University of Oxford, any longer divert him. The face of his lady,

ever haunting his memory, deprived him of his wonted pleasure in living dangerously. Whereat he was depressed.

"I must leave England," he thought. “I must go to some foreign city and lead a quite different life. But to leave England requires money; and to lead a quite different life also requires money.", He came to a sudden decision; made the gesture of payment upon the bill, and, thanking the courtly M. Stutz, left the restaurant and walked swiftly westwards through the twilight of tl e

streets.

I

IV.

NDIFFERENT to all about him,, the young man strode on his way through the, festive crowds that only the most inclement weather can prevent from promenading Oxford Street on a night in June. He saw nothing, he heard nothing; he was in a great hurry; and it was only as his determined, steps were brought almost to a standstill by the great concourse of people about Oxford Circus that his eyes found leisure to examine the placards of the evening journals which were exhibited at the mouth of the Tube station. Countess Divorces Husband." Well, thought he, she couldn't very well divorce her brother, could she? "Famous Diamond Stolen." Ah! "Garden-Party Thief.". "£2,000 Ring Stolen at Society Function." Society Hostess

Robbed." It's almost worth it for her, he thought, cattishly, to be called a Society hostess. And he grinned, and assuming a fierce expression, which it was not difficult for him to do under the angle of his dilapidated felt hat, he parted the crowds about him and went his way.

Maybe it was that the placards had had a stimulating effect on him, or maybe it was that he needed violent exercise, but now he walked even more swiftly than before, oblivious of the remarks which his arrogant passage aroused from the leisurely promenaders. He looked neither to the right nor to the left nor behind him; it didn't matter much about his not looking to the right or to the left, but it was a pity he did not look behind him.

Soon he turned into a quiet street, and from that into another; and came at last to a large building, which, despite the name of Lyonesse Mansions, was a block of flats of the meaner sort. He entered and strode up and up, until the genteel strip of carpet on the stairway gave up all pretence of being a genteel strip of carpet and frankly became a drugget of the consistency of a Gruyère cheese. To the very top of

Lyonesse Mansions strode the cavalier of the streets; and when further progress was barred by a mean-looking door he

banged upon that door without restraint, once, twice, thrice, and was then opposed by a feminine person who had all the attributes and mannerisms of a slut, but was in reality a respectable woman with a vote, the wife of a chauffeur who lived in a neighbouring mews, and whose comforts she increased by doing a bit of charing here and there. She was doing a bit of it here at the moment, and seemed inclined to resent any interruption on behalf of both herself and her employer, for before he had said a word she had snapped “Out,' and only the dexterous shoe of the cavalier of the streets prevented the door from being slammed in his face.

You'll get a sore throat if you snarl like that," he advised her kindly, and pushed past her into the narrow littleʼhail. Thoughtfully, he looked at the three closed doors with which the narrow little hall was decorated; and, by the abstracted expression of his face, seemed to be in a place far removed from the comments on his manners, appearance, and antecedents, if any, which the charlady, having left the open doorway, poured into his ear.

Then, having thought out his thought, he strode to the middle door and flung it open. The room was dimly lit, which was just as well, for there was in it but one ornament which might have repaid a more exact scrutiny; and that was a girl who, dressed for solitude in a faded blue peignoir, her fair hair loose about her shoulders, a copy of a picture paper in her hands, lay negligently on a wretched sofa. She was a pretty girl; that has been remarked before; but then she had been dressed like a flower, a flower from a garden sweeter than the spacious garden of Mrs. Felix Waite, and now she was dressed like nothing at all: and the faded blue of her covering was stained by a flat yellow packet of cigarettes. She was obviously no lady, and had given up pretending she was.

You dirty beast! How dare you come here?" cried the pretty girl, amazement turning to disgust, disgust to anger. But the cavalier of the streets, still framed ir the doorway, his head still covered, only smiled at her. And in his smile there was no hint of apology for the intrusion which his hostess seemed to resent so deeply.

Michael," she said, bitterly, "you are the world's worst man. Why can't you leave me alone? My Gawd, why can't you leave me alone? And as her voice rose, her eyes swept him in utter contempt.

"You poor kid, I have left you alone," he told her gently, wearily. The fact that the cavalier of the streets had at one time been a gentleman was apparent in the way he took abuse. Abuse made him tired. “I haven't been near you for years, Betty, so it's no good your handing me any back-chat about that."

His gentleness provoked her. The pretty girl sat up in her disorder, and the expression on her face was not pretty.

H

E smiled curiously, thinking of a very young man up at Magdalen College, and of a very pretty girl at a flowershop near the station, and how the young man had loved the pretty girl from a distance until one day he realized that the pretty girl was very willing to be loved by him; whereupon she had got the sack from the flower-shop, and had come up to London for to be a chorus-girl, and the young man had forgotten her. Anyway," he added, "I didn't leave you so stranded as that Thomas Felix Waite fellow."

He was silent, for what seemed a long time. Her sobs spent themselves quietly, in the depths of her self-pity. At last he said, softly: "Anyway, Betty, you've got your own back on the Felix Waite family now. You'll be able to go back to the country, as you've always wanted to, and live comfortably for a time. Or perhaps you'll be able to start a little shop of some kind."

She stared at him in immense amazement; but he was looking out of the little window.

Michael Wagstaffe," she breathed, "what on earth are you talking about?"

"A diamond ring worth two thousand pounds," said Michael Wagstaffe to the window.

"Balmy! "she jeered at him.

"Hand it over, Betty," said the cavalier of the streets, sharply. He stared down her frightened, incredulous look. It's no good your saying you haven't got it, because I guessed you had when I saw you leaving the Felix Waite house this evening, and I know you have now I've seen your face." She

began shrilly, but he snapped her up.

Now, don't be silly, child. It's no good your being selfish with it, because you will never be able to get rid of it on your own, and you'll only get copped if you try. I know about these things. So hand it over, and try not to look as though I was boring you with a tale about potatoes sprouting from the Albert Memorial. We'll go halves on it, I'm telling you. But you'll have to trust me."

She leapt up, faced him, a figure of tense fury. "I trust you! You poor, silly cad, I trust you! Get away from my sight before" And she suddenly realized that she had not denied having the diamond ring, that he had provoked her outburst, that he was laughing at her. She threw herself down on the sofa again and fumbled in the yellow packet for a cigarette.

"Clever, aren't you?" she sneered.

Only by contrast," smiled the cavalier of the streets. "I shall have to find it myself, then?

She made a move as though to spring from the sofa, but it was only a little move, for she knew her man, and he was standing just beside her. "You're just a blamed fool," was all she said.

"Don't move, Betty," he begged her, gently. "Please don't move. Because I don't want to have to tie you up. All I want to do is to find that diamond ring. It's silly of you to put me to the trouble of having to look for it, but, even so, I shall give you half of whatever I get for it, for which you must thank my late mother for the way she brought me up." He seemed to have fallen into a conversational vein ; he heeded not the various and contemptuous noises with which the pretty girl, now, alas, not so pretty as she had been, sought to disturb the even tenor of his conversation; and all the while his eyes were busy about the room, a largish and dingy bed-sittingroom, the bed being inadequately hidden in an alcove behind a frayed green curtain. "You see, Betty dear," he went on, "I have come to a point in my life when I must have money or bust. I am telling you this that you may know I shall not spend half your ill-gotten gains in riotous living. I am tired of riotous living, Betty, I am tired.of life, I am tired of England. And so I am going abroad, far abroad, and there I shall make a new start "-she tried frantically to jump up, but he caught her wrist and held it-"make a new start, as I was saying. You will not see me again for a long time. Betty, and when you do you will see a rich and generous man, for I shall never forget that I owe you a good turn for the wrong I did you. But to go abroad and to begin an entirely new life I need money. And so,"

and his eyes still wandered thoughtfully about the room, "I must find your diamond ring, sell it for you, and keep half the proceeds as commission."

"Even if it was here," jeered the pretty girl, "you'd never find it. You think you're the only clever one in the world, don't you?” But there was not much conviction in her voice.

"No; I've always said you had brains, Betty. You are no fool; and I shall conduct my investigations on those premises. But don't move "--and his hand fell sharply on her wrist again, while his eyes still thoughtfully embraced every corner of the room. "Now, if you were a fool, where would you hide a stolen diamond ring so that your maid would not find it? You would hide it in a far corner of a drawer, or under a pile of linen, or you would sew it into the lining of a dress, or bury it in a hole in the floor-in fact, Betty dear, if you were a fool you would hide that diamond ring in some secret place which any charwoman or detective searching this room would find at once. But you are not a fool. Now, if you are a student of Edgar Allan Poe, which I doubt, you will remember his tale about a young Frenchman called Duval, who found a purloined letter, after the Paris police had searched in vain for it for weeks, in the most obvious place in the robber's house which was, of course, the letter-rack. But what, I ask myself, is the most obvious place in this room in which to hide a stolen diamond ring? The answer at once leaps to my mind, my eyes wander to a dilapidated-looking armchair a few yards away, and fix on a handbag which is lying in the seat thereof. It is a pretty handbag, unpretentious but decorative; and a diamond ring in your handbag would be quite safe from the prying fingers of your maid or charwoman, for the simple reason that she has long ago given up hoping that she will find any money in it. But I am neither your maid nor your charwoman, and Oh!" She had bitten the hand that held her wrist, and only by a very quick effort did he restrain her from reaching the armchair on which lay the handbag. Allow me," he said, politely, nursing his hand. "I will get it for you. Swiftly he got itand the diamond ring lay in his open palm.

From the diamond in his palm he looked at the bowed head of the girl. He said, harshly:

"Haven't I told you I'm going to give you half of what I get?

"I don't want to sell it," sobbed the girl. "I got reasons. You wouldn't understandyou wouldn't understand anything to do with sentiment. You was born without a heart, Michael Wagstaffe. When young Thomas Felix Waite loved me he promised me that he'd get that diamond ring from his mother and give it to me. I didn't want it then, nor believe him, but he went on so about it that I came to fix my mind on it. And then one day he left me-just like that, without a word. He was a weak idiot, but I loved him-you wouldn't understand. And when he left me my mind somehow ran on that diamond ring he'd promised me--I wanted it, d'you see, as I might want some money that was owing to me. God's treated me pretty rough, I thought, and so He owes me that diamond ring just so as I can look at it now and then. And I been thinking about it months and months, not thinking to steal it, you know, but just wanting it. You wouldn't understand how soft a girl gets when she's eaten up with loneliness in a big place like London. Why didn't you let me be at Oxford, Michael, living with my father? And so when I saw this gardenparty billed in the Society columns this morning I just thought I'd try to get in and have a look at the diamond on her hand. I never thought she'd be fool enough to take it off in that catch-as-catch-can crowd to show to a friend and then lay it on the edge of the fight-for-a-cup-of-teatable to grab a cake which she could have done well without, she being already so fat with overfeeding.' And for the first time she looked up at the young man, who stood above her absently playing with the glittering toy in his hand. She stared at him with babyish, unbelieving eyes. Gawd, you're a bad kind of man, Michael Wagstaffe. You're very bad."

"

"You don't want to sell it, then?" he asked, sardonically.

"I want the diamond-my diamond!" she whispered. "Give me back my diamond ring, Michael Wagstaffe. It'll do for the sun you've took from me since we met at Oxford." "Here you

He smiled at her suddenly. are, pretty Betty," he said, and held out the diamond.

But Betty was afraid; she didn't believe the beau geste. Few beaux gestes had come