Oxford Circus I looked up into the spring sky and I
made a vow. I would give the Old Country another day
to fit me into something; if nothing happened, I would
take the next boat for the Cape.

My flat was the first floor in a new block behind
Langham Place. There was a common staircase, with a
porter and a lift man at the entrance, but there was no
restaurant or anything of that sort, and each flat was
quite shut off from the others. I hate servants on the
premises, so I had a fellow to look after me who came
in by the day. He arrived before eight o'clock every
morning and used to depart at seven, for I never dined
at home.

I was just fitting my key into the door when I noticed a
man at my elbow. I had not seen him approach, and
the sudden appearance made me start. He was a slim
man, with a short brown beard and small, gimlety blue
eyes. I recognized him as the occupant of a flat on the
top floor, with whom I had passed the time of day on
the stairs.

"Can I speak to you?" he said. "May I come in for a
minute?" He was steadying his voice with an effort, and
his hand was pawing my arm.

I got my door open and motioned him in. No sooner
was he over the threshold than he made a dash for my
back room, where I used to smoke and write my
letters. Then he bolted back.

"Is the door locked?" he asked feverishly, and he
fastened the chain with his own hand.

"I am very sorry," he said humbly. "It's a mighty liberty,
but you look the kind of man who would understand.
I've had you in my mind all this week when things got
troublesome. Say, will you do me a good turn?"

"I'll listen to you," I said. "That's all I'll promise." I was
getting worried by the antics of this nervous little chap.

There was a tray of drinks on the table beside him,
from which he filled himself a stiff whisky-and-soda. He
drank it off in three gulps, and cracked the glass as he
set it down.

"Pardon," he said, "I'm a bit rattled to-night. You see, I
happen at this moment to be dead."

I sat down in an arm-chair and lit my pipe.

"What does it feel like?" I asked. I was pretty certain
that I had to deal with a madman.

A smile flickered over his drawn face. "I'm not mad--
yet. Say, sir, I've been watching you, and I reckon
you're a cool customer. I reckon, too, you're an honest
man, and not afraid of playing a bold hand. I'm going
to confide in you. I need help worse than any man ever
needed it, and I want to know if I can count you in."

"Get on with your yam," I said, "and I'll tell you."

He seemed to brace himself for a great effort, and then
started on the queerest rigmarole. I didn't get hold of it
at first, and I had to stop and ask him questions. But
here is the gist of it:--

He was an American, from Kentucky, and after college,
being pretty well off, he had started out to see the
world. He wrote a bit, and acted as war correspondent
for a Chicago paper, and spent a year or two in South-
Eastern Europe. I gathered that he was a fine linguist,
and had got to know pretty well the society in those
parts. He spoke familiarly of many names that I
remembered to have seen in the newspapers.

He had played about with politics, he told me, at first
for the interest of them, and then because he couldn't
help himself. I read him as a sharp, restless fellow, who
always wanted to get down to the roots of things. He
got a little further down than he wanted.

I am giving you what he told me as well as I could
make it out. Away behind all the Governments and the
armies there was a big subterranean movement going
on, engineered by very dangerous people. He had
come on it by accident; it fascinated him; he went
further, and then he got caught. I gathered that most of
the people in it were the sort of educated anarchists
that make revolutions, but that beside them there were
financiers who were playing for money. A clever man
can make big profits on a falling market, and it suited
the book of both classes to set Europe by the ears.

He told me some queer things that explained a lot that
had puzzled me--things that happened in the Balkan
War, how one state suddenly came out on top, why