I caught at the idea.

"Yes, a carrier-pigeon," I murmured in reply; "they sometimes, I believe, send messages to the fire-stations in that way." Coolly as I said this, I was conscious of grasping the window-sill in pure nervousness till the scrap began to flutter back into the square.
Next it was squeezed between two of the bars of a drain.

That was the last I saw of it, and the following morning the doctor had won his stethoscope--only by a few hours, however, for the government's end was announced in the evening papers.

My defeat discomfited me for a little, but soon I was pleased that I had lost.

I would not care to win a bet over any mixture but the Arcadia.
[Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXV.
A FACE THAT HAUNTED MARRIOT.
"This is not a love affair," Marriot shouted, apologetically.
He had sat the others out again, but when I saw his intention I escaped into my bedroom, and now refused to come out.
"Look here," he cried, changing his tone, "if you don't come out I'll tell you all about it through the keyhole.