could happen? It was certain that I should keep my eyes very wide open after receiving that mysterious warning.
As a matter of fact, I felt bucked up and buoyant in the face of that afternoon's happenings. "Hurrah," I thought with glee, "I'm in for a real good thing—with a spice of adventure in it!"
I spent a busy evening writing letters and packing, and next day, at half-past one, ascended the steps of the house of Featherson, a man staggering behind me with two large kit bags and a suit case.
Featherson himself came into the hall as I entered and invited me into his den.
"Come in, Mr. d'Escombe. Come in. Let me introduce you to my daughter, Ella. She has not long left school, and is going to travel with us—little minx" and he chucked her under the chin, in—to my mind—a rather vulgar manner.
The girl reddened, and then shaking hands with me, asked if I had travelled much.
"I lived in Paris with my uncle for a while as a lad," I answered, "therefore, I speak the language fairly well."
"Excuse me one moment, d'Escombe," said the master of the house, leaving the room, at
