Preston, and when he next put his hand into his pocket, I say, the pool had quite vanished. But after some—ah—deliberation, I take it that they are going to let matters stand as they were a bit longer till we can get the answer by the 'wireless' which we were trying to get this morning."
"What answer, Mr. Dunneston?" the girl started up suddenly. "What are you expecting now from the 'wireless'?"
The Englishman was leaning down and critically examining the rug in the chair next to hers.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Dunneston," she remembered herself. "Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you; not now. I was merely examining the rug. Distinctive this one, what? It is Mr. Preston's?"
"Yes; why?"
"I was merely thinking it fortunate that he has so distinctive a one; for I rather fancy that, if he is not Mr. Manling, as you claim,
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