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game once too often. They sent particulars. The

      identification disk is his. Oh! there's no doubt about it,

      unfortunately. The dead man's face is unrecognizable, but it's not

      likely there are two disks of that sort bearing the initials G.M. and

      the number 49685. I'm going along now. Should you care to come,

      doctor?"

      "I am expecting a patient, Inspector," replied Stuart--"er--a special

      case. But I hope you will keep me in touch with this affair?"

      "Well, I shouldn't have suggested your coming to the Yard if I hadn't

      wanted to do that. As a matter of fact, this scorpion job seems to

      resolve itself into a case of elaborate assassination by means of

      some unknown poison; and although I should have come to see you in

      any event, because you have helped me more than once, I came to-night

      at the suggestion of the Commissioner. He instructed me to retain

      your services if they were available."

      "I am honoured," replied Stuart. "But after all, Inspector, I am

      merely an ordinary suburban practitioner. My reputation has yet to

      be made. What's the matter with Halesowen of Upper Wimpole Street?

      He's the big man."

      "And if Sir Frank Narcombe was really poisoned--as Paris seems to

      think he was--he's also a big fool." retorted Dunbar bluntly. "He

      agreed that death was due to heart trouble."

      "I know he did; unsuspected ulcerative endocarditis. Perhaps he was

      right."

      "If he was right," said Dunbar, taking up the piece of gold from the

      table, "what was Gaston Max doing with this thing in his possession?"

      "There may be no earthly connection between Max's inquiries and the

      death of Sir Frank."

      "On the other hand--there may! Leaving Dr. Halesowen out of the

      question, are you open to act as expert adviser in this case?"

      "Certainly; delighted."

      "Your fee is your own affair, doctor. I will communicate with you

      later, if you wish, or call again in the morning."

      Dunbar wrapped up the scorpion's tail in the piece of tissue paper

      and was about to replace it in his note-case. Then:

      "I'll leave this with you, doctor," he said. "I know it will be safe

      enough, and you might like to examine it at greater leisure."

      "Very well," replied Stuart. "Some of the engraving is very minute.

      I will have a look at it through a glass later."

      He took the fragment from Dunbar, who had again unwrapped it, and,

      opening a drawer of the writing-table in which he kept his cheque-book

      and some few other personal valuables, he placed the curious piece of

      gold-work within and relocked the drawer.

      "I will walk as far as the cab-rank with you," he said, finding

      himself to be possessed of a spirit of unrest. Whereupon the two went

      out of the room, Stuart extinguishing the lamps as he came to the

      door.

      They had not left the study for more than two minutes ere a car drew

      up outside the house, and Mrs. M'Gregor ushered a lady into the room

      but lately quitted by Stuart and Dunbar, turning up the lights as she

      entered.

      "The doctor has gone out but just now, Miss Dorian," she said stiffly.

      "I am sorry that ye are so unfortunate in your veesits. But I know

      he'll be no more than a few minutes."

      The girl addressed was of a type fully to account for the misgivings

      of the shrewd old Scotswoman. She had the slim beauty of the East

      allied to the elegance of the West. Her features, whilst cast in a

      charming European mould, at the same time suggested in some subtle

      way the Oriental. She had the long, almond-shaped eyes of the Egyptian,

      and her hair, which she wore unconventionally in a picturesque

      fashion reminiscent of the _harem_, was inclined to be "fuzzy," but

      gleamed with coppery tints where the light touched its waves.

      She wore a cloak of purple velvet having a hooded collar of white fox

      fur; it fastened with golden cords. Beneath it was a white and gold

      robe, cut with classic simplicity of line and confined at the waist

      by an ornate Eastern girdle. White stockings and dull gold shoes

      exhibited to advantage her charming little feet and slim ankles, and

      she carried a handbag of Indian beadwork. Mlle. Dorian was a figure

      calculated to fire the imagination of any man and to linger long and

      sweetly in the memory.

      Mrs. M'Gregor, palpably ill at ease, conducted her to an armchair.

      "You are very good," said the visitor, speaking with a certain

      hesitancy and with a slight accent most musical and fascinating.

      "I wait a while if I may."

      "Dear, dear," muttered Mrs. M'Gregor, beginning to poke the fire, "he

      has let the fire down, of course! Is it out? No ... I see a wee

      sparkie!"

      She set the poker upright before the nearly extinguished fire and

      turned triumphantly to Mlle. Dorian, who was watching her with a

      slight smile.

      "That will be a comforting blaze in a few minutes, Miss Dorian," she

      said, and went towards the door.

      "If you please," called the girl, detaining her--"do you permit me to

      speak on the telephone a moment? As Dr. Stuart is not at home, I must

      explain that I wait for him."

      "Certainly, Miss Dorian," replied Mrs. M'Gregor; "use the telephone

      by all means. But I think the doctor will be back any moment now."

      "Thank you so much."

      Mrs. M'Gregor went out, not without a final backward glance at the

      elegant figure in the armchair. Mlle. Dorian was seated, her chin

      resting in her hand and her elbow upon the arm of the chair, gazing

      into the smoke arising from the nearly extinguished ember of the fire.

      The door closed, and Mrs. M'Gregor's footsteps could be heard receding

      along the corridor.

      Mlle.

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