stantly bored by the drivel of the ordinary chance acquaintance of the country."
He looked at me, a sharp, half inquiring glance from those keen eyes of his, and I imagined him saying to himself. "Does he suspect me, is this a trap?"
"Where do you propose to go?" he inquired.
"I am going to a little place called Hythe in the Southampton Water, a most delightful spot; a friend of mine has offered me the use of his bungalow for a while. And I'm going to accept the offer," was my reply.
He didn't quite like it; I could fathom the doubt in his mind as to whether he was safe. You see, he was beginning to know me, but there was no way out for him, and so, accepting the inevitable, he smiled blandly and asked:
"When do we go?"
"The day after to-morrow, thank goodness," I answered. "And I think we ought to have a thundering good time. No work, and plenty to do."
I don't think he ever dreamt that there was the remotest chance of his leaving that bungalow feet foremost, although he had vague suspicions, I knew, that my arrangements were made. At the same time I felt that I had a
