ooked after
us?--and who, by the way, probably looked after her own pocket as
well.

The bachelor's housekeeper is always a fifteen puzzle--twelve for
herself and the remaining three for her employer. As sure as rain
comes in winter, so does the smug and sedate female who keeps house
for the unfortunate unattached male place the onus of housekeeping
bills upon him and reap the desserts of life for herself.

On that particular evening I felt very tired, for in the five days of
my absence many business matters had accumulated, and I had had much
to attend to.

Harry, who ate hurriedly--even gobbling his food--told me that he was
taking Norah to the theatre, hence, after dinner, I was left alone. I
read the evening paper when he had left, and then, at eight o'clock,
stretched myself, for it was time that I went out to my uncle's.

The evening was cold and bright, with twinkling stars which on
air-raid nights in London would have caused much perturbation among
average householders and their families.

Our "Kaiserin" had gone home, so I rose, put on my overcoat, switched
off the lights and descended the stairs to Hammersmith Bridge.

Thus, as you, my reader, will realize, I went out in the manner of a
million other men in London on that particular night of Wednesday, the
seventh of November.

And yet all unconsciously I plunged into a vortex of mystery and
uncertainty such as, perhaps, no other living man has ever
experienced.

Again I hesitate to pen these lines.

Yet, be patient, and I will endeavour, as far as I am able in these
cold printed pages, to reveal exactly what occurred, without any
exaggeration or hysterical meanderings. My only object being to
present to you a plain, straightforward, and unvarnished narrative of
those amazing occurrences, and in what astounding circumstances I
found myself.

Surely it was not any of my own seeking--as you will readily
understand. Because I performed what I believed to be a good
action--as most readers of these pages would have done in similar
circumstances--I was rewarded by unspeakable trouble, tribulation and
tragedy.

CHAPTER THE FIRST

INTRODUCES OSWALD DE GEX

I had promised to call upon Charles Latimer, my bachelor uncle, a
retired naval captain, a somewhat crusty old fellow who lived in
Orchard Street, which runs between Oxford Street and Portman Square. I
usually went there twice a week. With that intent I took a motor 'bus
from Hammersmith