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He slipped into his coat and turned toward Baggin, who had also risen.

"You will see that it gets into the morning papers," he said. "I could wish to write it myself," he added pensively, drawing on his gloves. "It has possibilities. So: 'Grayson a suicide. Great financier shows himself at the opera, bids the gay world good-night, and throws himself in the Thames. A flying rumour breathes money troubles as a cause for the tragedy.' Wait!" he fumbled in his breast pocket, "I'll write a note to pin to his clothes."

He scribbled hastily in his memorandum book, tore out the leaf, and handed it to his companion. "He confesses his sins and commends his soul to 'le bon Dieu.'" He laid a hand upon the door.

"You will leave me here—alone?" asked Baggin.

"But yes! Nothing can harm you from within, and you bolt the door from without—until the preconcerted signal. It should not be long now." He drew out his watch.

"But—I wish you to remain—I command it!" Despite his efforts at composure, Baggin's voice quavered.