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“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I’ve just sent you a letter by hand, but I ought to have marked it ‘Important’ and—and ... Well, I really should have enclosed it in a note to you because it’s very urgent, and I would like it sent on by messenger-boy if you could do it. At once—to-night, I mean. You see——”

“I don’t think he’s in London. Wait a minute.” The voice became almost inaudible. Frantically Eve strained her ears.... “Broke. Jeremy Broke—fellow that wrote Babel ... messenger-boy.... Rome, isn’t it? Poste Restante, Rome....” The voice returned to the mouthpiece. “No. I’m afraid—— Hullo! Are you there? ... Hullo ... Hullo ...”

After a moment or two the speaker replaced his receiver with a sigh.

“Cut off,” he said wearily. “Never mind. She’ll ring up again.”

He was quite wrong.

He had had his last conversation with Mrs. Broke.

The latter was already preparing to leave for Italy....

Two days later the lady had reached Rome and was being rapidly driven to the Ritz Hotel. Purposely she avoided the Grand, where she and Jeremy had stayed—centuries ago.