, our cab
poked its laboring nose into a narrowing, gloomy street. I had a glimpse
of a single unsteady street lamp on the corner, and a dim sign, "Mate
Lane." And then we were dragging along the curb. The cab stopped with a
groan.

I had stepped down and was standing by the cab door when suddenly, from
the darkness in front of me, a strange figure advanced to my side. He
glanced at me intently; then, seeing that I was evidently not the man he
sought, he turned to Drake. I heard a whispered greeting and an
undertone of conversation. Then, quietly, Drake stepped toward me.

"Dale," he said. "I thought it best that I should not show myself here
to-night. No, there is no time for explanation now; you will understand
later. Perhaps"--significantly--"sooner than you anticipate. Inspector
Hartnett will go through the rest of this pantomime with you."

I shook hands with Drake's man, still rather bewildered at the sudden
substitution. Then, before I was aware of it, Drake had vanished and the
cab was gone. We were alone, Hartnett and I, in Mate Lane.

The home of Michael Strange--number seven--was hardly inviting. No light
was in evidence. The big house stood like a huge, unadorned vault set
back from the street, some distance from its adjoining buildings. The
heavy steps echoed to our footbeats as we mounted them in the darkness;
and the sound of the bell, as Hartnett pressed it came sharply to us
from the silence of the interior.

* * * * *

We stood there, waiting. In the short interval before the door opened,
Hartnett glanced at his watch (it was nearly ten o'clock), and said to
me:

"I imagine, Doctor, we shall meet a blank wall. Let me do the talking,
please."

That was all. In another moment the big door was pulled slowly open from
the inside, and in the entrance, glaring out at us, stood the man we had
come to see. It is not hard to remember that first impression of Michael
Strange. He was a huge man, gaunt and haggard, moulded with the hunched
shoulders and heavy arms of a gorilla. His face seemed to be
unconsciously twisted into a snarl. His greeting, which came only after
he had stared at us intently, for nearly a minute, was curt and
rasping.

"Well, gentlemen? What is it?"

"I should like a word with Dr. Michael Strange," said my companion
quietly.

"I am Michael Strange."

"And I," replied Hartnett, with a suggestion of a smile, "am Raoul
Hartnett, from Scotland Yar