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Rh the conversation hurriedly. But it was too late. Pagett was on the war-path.

He next proceeded to bore me with a long pointless story about the Kilmorden. It was about a roll of films and a wager. The roll of films being thrown through a porthole in the middle of the night by some steward who ought to have known better. I hate horse-play. I told Pagett so, and he began to tell me the story all over again. He tells a story extremely badly, anyway. It was a long time before I could make head or tail of this one.

I did not see him again until lunch-time. Then he came in brimming over with excitement, like a bloodhound on the scent. I never have cared for bloodhounds. The upshot of it all was that he had seen Rayburn.

"What?" I cried, startled.

Yes, he had caught sight of some one whom he was sure was Rayburn crossing the street. Pagett had followed him.

"And who do you think I saw him stop and speak to? Miss Pettigrew!"

"What?"

"Yes, Sir Eustace. And that's not all. I've been making inquiries about her"

"Wait a bit. What happened to Rayburn?"

"He and Miss Pettigrew went into that corner curio-shop"

I uttered an involuntary exclamation. Pagett stopped inquiringly.

"Nothing," I said. "Go on."

"I waited outside for ages—but they didn't come out. At last I went in. Sir Eustace, there was no one in the shop! There must be another way out."

I stared at him.

"As I was saying, I came back to the hotel and made some inquiries about Miss Pettigrew." Pagett lowered