ence in affairs of this sort, he is no ordinary amateur detective."
"Yes! I know Mr. Stephen Heneage," the Baroness said. "Tell me, does Louise know?"
Wrayson shook his head.
"I have had no opportunity of telling her," he answered. "I might not have thought so seriously of it, but this morning I received a note from Heneage."
"Yes! What did he say?"
"It was only a line or two," Wrayson answered. "He reminded me of his previous warning to me to leave England for a time, and he underlined it. Louise ought to know. I want to tell her!"
"I am glad you did not tell me this before," the Baroness said, as they left the room together, "or it would have spoiled my luncheon. I do not like your friend, Mr. Heneage!"
"You will give me Louise's address?" he asked. "Some one must see her."
"I will send it you," the Baroness promised, "before the day is out."
