THE WOMAN WITH AN ALIAS Borrowdean seemed after all to take but little interest in the game.

He walked generally, some distance away from the players, on the top of the low bank of sandhills which fringed the sea.

He was one of those men whom solitude never wearies, a weaver of carefully thought-out schemes, no single detail of which was ever left to chance or impulse.

Such moments as these were valuable to him.

He bared his head to the breeze, stopped to listen to the larks, watched the sea-gulls float low over the lapping waters, without paying the slightest attention to any one of them.