Nostalgo smiled and shook his head. The doctor had not made an examination of him at all; and he explained he had simply given him a cursory glance and pronounced that the whole thing had been fatal. No doubt a thorough examination would have taken place later on, only that the victim had returned to his senses, and, having his own reasons for secrecy, had escaped by means of the overhead light in the mortuary.

"There you have the whole thing in a nutshell," he concluded. "It was fortunate for me that I knew exactly how to get away, for the simple reason that I had been keeping a close eye upon Anstruther's movements, and knew all about that hiding place in Montrose Place. To a certain extent I made my escape through Montrose Place. There is only one thing I find that is difficult of explanation. Now I know for a fact that Anstruther was otherwise engaged on the night of that murderous attack upon me. Who, then, was it who fired the bullet?"

"I think it is just possible I can enlighten you there," Jack said. "Did you ever chance to hear of a man called Padini?"

The name conveyed nothing apparently to Nostalgo, who rose at the same moment and suggested that dinner was possibly ready. It was a well-served meal, cold for the most part, Nostalgo explaining that anything in the way of elaborate cookery had for obvious reasons to be done off the premises. It was possible to talk freely before the servants, who seemed to be entirely in their master's confidence.

"Tell me about this Padini whose name you mentioned just now," the host said. "So far as I know, I have never heard the name before."

"That is exceedingly likely, considering that Padini is only one of the many aliases. The man I mentioned is an exceedingly fine violinist--clean shaven and artistic-looking, and perhaps just a little effeminate. On the stage he looks rather boyish, but in private life it is his whim to assume a moustache closely resembling that of the German Emperor. I know this as a fact, because I have met him wearing his moustache at the house of a man called Carrington--a rich bachelor banker who has a very elaborate establishment in Piccadilly."

A heavy scowl crossed the face of Nostalgo.

"So you know that sorry blackguard, do you?" he asked. "Upon my word, Mr. Masefield, you seem to have mixed up with a rare lot of scoundrels."

Jack was politely incredulous; he had never heard anything to the detriment of Mr. Carrington, who was partner in a well-known City bank. Still, he remembered now that he had heard Carrington's name mentioned by Anstruther that time he was hiding in Montrose Place with Rigby.

"Oh, I am perfectly certain of my facts," Nostalgo cried. "It may be news to you, but Carrington's bank is on the verge of collapse. I know that, because they have twenty thousand pounds of mine in their hands. I was acquainted with Carrington before I went to Mexico, and as good fortune favored me, I sent a great deal of my earnings to Carrington for investment. When I came home I called upon him one night and explained my altered appearance. He appeared to be fairly satisfied till I asked for my securities. Then the rascal showed himself in his true colors. He pretended to believe that I was an impudent impostor; he laughed my strange story to scorn, and refused to part with anything until I could prove my identity beyond question. He knew perfectly well that at the time I could do nothing of the sort, and there the matter stands for the present. I suppose that Carrington is a friend of Anstruther's?"

Jack explained that Anstruther and Carrington were dining together at the former's club at that self-same moment. Nostalgo nodded, as if the information was not displeasing to him. "Very good," he cried. "Everything is going our way now. I will get you to accompany me on a little expedition presently. And as to this man you call Padini, I think I have a pretty good notion of his real identity. And now take some more of that wine, and let us discuss matters generally, apart from this wretched business. Let me try and make you forget what a physical wreck I am."

A more entertaining companion Jack could not have wished for. His host seemed to have been everywhere and seen everything; he was a thorough citizen of the world, and a charming companion to boot. Jack was astonished to look up presently and see that it was already past eleven o'clock. Nostalgo followed his glance and smiled. He rang the bell and ordered coffee to be served at once.

"Just one more cigar and a liquor," he suggested, "and then we must be off. Meanwhile, there are one or two things I must do in regard to my personal appearance. Like the modern plain young woman, I am compelled occasionally to resort to a beauty doctor. It is a case of where Nature fails Art steps in."

So saying, Nostalgo passed the cigar box across the table and sauntered from the room. It was some half-hour before he returned, and when he did so he was changed almost beyond recognition. At the same time, the almost hideous ugliness had only given way to another form of repulsive feature. Nostalgo smiled sadly as he seemed to follow Jack's thoughts.

"It is only a change after all," he said; "for change is sometimes necessary. If you have quite finished, we are going to walk down as far as St. James's Street, wher............