“Why, of course, Harker or anybody—­who wouldn’t?” asked the Guardsman, as the cloud dispelled from his face at hope coming so quickly from this unexpected quarter.  “Why, it’s as good as the Bank of England.  Harker take it?—–­he’ll snap at it.  Only try him and see his greedy eyes glisten.  What could Harker get by selling me up?—­absolutely nothing.  Besides, it would do him harm by letting others know how harshly he served me.  Oh, no, Harker will not sell me up if he can find such an easy, safe way out of the difficulty.”

“True,” said Jasper pleasantly.  “Well, I’ll interview Leroy and see if I can persuade him to assist you, as a friend of mine; I believe I can do it for you.  Going to Lady Merivale’s to-night?  Yes?  Then we shall meet again; till then, au revoir.”

So, with a shake of his fat, smooth hand, the benevolent, unselfish Mr. Vermont took his departure, still smiling serenely, on the business which had brought him that day to London.

Nobody knew Jasper’s private address.  He was always to be found with Adrien Leroy, and all letters were addressed to his club; or to Jermyn Court; but of the locality of that place which Mr. Vermont would sanctify by the name of “home,” every one was ignorant.  Whenever questioned on this subject—­he never obtruded the matter on anybody—­it was his custom to answer lightly: 

“Home! what does such a waif, such a jetsam and flotsam of the world’s flowing tide, want with a home?  Really, my dear boy”—­or madam, if the speaker happened to be of the gentler sex—­“if ever you have occasion to see me, I am sure to be at one of these three places:  Leroy’s chambers, my club—­the Pallodeon, or Barminster Castle.”

And accordingly, to one of these places his fashionable acquaintances directed their inquiries for him.  Mr. Vermont, however, really possessed a home, small, it is true, but one quite suitable to his needs, and absolutely secluded from the possible knowledge of his friends in the gay world.

After leaving Captain Beaumont, he had himself driven to the City.  Alighting in front of a large jeweller’s shop, apparently with the intention of purchasing something, he dismissed his car; then when it had disappeared, walked quickly along the crowded thoroughfare for some distance.  At last, looking round furtively—­for he was ever cautious—­he dived into one of the small entrances in Lawrence Lane, and mounting two flights of stairs, entered the front room.  This was the home, or rather, perhaps, refuge from the conventions of society, that Mr. Vermont possessed.  Here he could find shelter at any time of the night, for he possessed a private key; and by his orders the bed was kept constantly aired and ready by the housekeeper; who had her own rooms on the floor above.  It was no unusual thing for her to leave the rooms tenantless late in the evening, and find them occupied when she rose in the morning, Jasper having arrived during the dead of night, silently as was his invariable custom.