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"No, sir, except that he would write to you from Paris, if he did

not find you at the club."

"That will do, Francis. Don't forget to call me at nine

to-morrow."

"No, sir."

The man shambled down the passage in his slippers.

Dorian Gray threw his hat and coat upon the table and passed into

the library. For a quarter of an hour he walked up and down the

room, biting his lip and thinking. Then he took down the Blue

Book from one of the shelves and began to turn over the leaves.

"Alan Campbell, 152, Hertford Street, Mayfair." Yes; that was the

man he wanted.

CHAPTER XIV.

At nine o'clock the next morning his servant came in with a cup

of chocolate on a tray and opened the shutters. Dorian was

sleeping quite peacefully, lying on his right side, with one hand

underneath his cheek. He looked like a boy who had been tired out

with play, or study.