“No more than you imagine that I would ask it of you!” he smiled.

“It seems to me your meaning is somewhat obscure,” she retorted.  “However, whether you don’t mean it, or do mean it, I’ll trust myself to you because it’s you, Mr. Harleston.”

“Permanently, my lady?”

“Certainly not, sir.  I refer only to this afternoon; I want to be in at the end of the game.”

“For me,” said Harleston slowly, “it’s been a very fortunate game.”

“Games are uncertain and sometimes costly,” she shrugged.

“When played with Spencer, they are both and then some,” he replied.

At that moment Carpenter pushed back his chair and arose, nodded pleasantly to Mrs. Clephane and Harleston as he passed, and went out.

“Will Mr. Carpenter be at the finish?” Mrs. Clephane asked.

“Probably; but he’ll be in the lobby when we go through.”

“They are going!” she whispered.  “And they’re coming this way.”

As Mrs. Spencer and Snodgrass went by, the former with an intimate little look at Harleston, said confidentially: 

“I’ll be ready at half-past three, Guy.”

“Very good!” Harleston answered promptly—­when she was past, he looked at Mrs. Clephane.

“The cat!” she muttered; then smiled quizzically.  “Such a pleasant air of proprietorship,” she observed.

“Too pleasant,” he returned.  “I’ve something to tell you as to it and her, when the present matter is ended.”

“Will it keep?”

He nodded.  “I can tell it better then—­and have more time for the telling.”

The headwaiter approached casually, as though surveying the table.

“Well!” said Harleston.

“He went to the private mail boxes; she’s waiting in the lobby,” the man replied.  “He received a small letter, which he opened; it enclosed only another envelope, which he put in his pocket without opening.  He returned to the lobby and they left the Club-House.”

Harleston nodded.  “It’s time for us to be moving,” said he to Mrs. Clephane.  “Will you trust me?” he asked as they passed into the lobby, at the far end of which Carpenter was sitting absorbed in his cigar.

“Absolutely!” she replied.

“And will you go with Carpenter; he understands?  I’ll be with you shortly.  I must act quickly now.”

Carpenter arose as they neared.

“Just started,” said he, and bowed to Mrs. Clephane.

“Mrs. Clephane understands,” Harleston explained “I confide her to your care. A bientot.”

He hurried out.  A taxi, waiting with power on, sped up; he sprang aboard and it raced away.

As it neared the Connecticut Avenue bridge, the taxi slowed down a trifle and the driver half-faced around.

“The other car is just ahead, sir,” he reported.

“Very good,” said Harleston.  “Does the driver know we’re behind him?”

“I’ve signalled, sir, and he’s answered.”