firm grip, looking him steadily in the face with an ominous and warning frown.
That clear, sword-like glance seemed to nerve the big man into more restraint. A wave of artificial composure passed over him. He removed his hat and breathed deeply.
Then he spoke in a voice which trembled somewhat, but which nevertheless attained something of control.
"I am really very sorry," he said, with a ghastly attempt at a smile, "to have burst in upon you like this. I didn't know you had friends with you. Please excuse me. But the truth is — the truth is, that I am in rather a hurry to see you. I have an important message for you from —" he hesitated a single moment before he found the ready lie —" from Lord —. There are — there is something going on at the House of Commons which — But I will tell you later on. How do you do, Mrs. Armstrong ? How are you, Ommaney? Fearfully rushed, of course! We archæologists are the only people who have leisure nowadays. No, thanks, Schuabe, I lunched before I came. Coffee? Oh, yes; excellent!"
His manner was noticeably forced and unnatural in its artificial geniality. The man, who had now entered with coffee, brought the tray to him, but instead of taking any he half filled an empty cup with Kümmel and drank it off.
His hurried explanation hardly deceived the two shrewd people at the table, but at least it made it obvious that he wished to be alone with their host.
There was a little desultory conversation over the coffee, in which Llwellyn took a too easy and hilarious part, and then Mrs. Armstrong got up to go.
Ommaney followed her.
Schuabe walked with them a little way down the corridor. While he was out of the room, Llwellyn walked
