ved in London and drove straight to
Rivermead Mansions. I entered with my latchkey, and on glancing around
saw signs that my friend Hambledon was still living there. The fire in
the sitting-room had been lit by the "Kaiserin" ready for his
home-coming, and everything seemed bright and cosy.

It was then about four o'clock, and Hambledon would certainly not
return till six. Therefore after a good wash, a shave, and a clean
collar, I set forth for Stretton Street to interview Oswald De Gex.

The house in the dusk was just as I recollected it on that eventful
night when I was so unexpectedly called inside.

I rang the bell three times, until at last the door opened and a tall,
stalwart man appeared.

I inquired for Mr. De Gex, whereupon he replied:

"Mr. De Gex is in Italy, sir."

"Oh! When did he leave town?"

"About a month ago, sir," the man answered.

"You are, I suppose, the caretaker?" I asked. "Now, I wonder if you
will do me a very great favour. You may think me a thief or a
burglar," I laughed, "but the fact is I have a great desire to see Mr.
De Gex's house. I've heard so much about its beauties. I wonder if you
would show me the drawing-room and the library?"

The man hesitated, saying:

"Well, sir, I've no orders to show anyone over. Have you a card?"

I at once produced one from my cigarette-case, and added that I was a
personal friend of the millionaire's. He read my name and looked again
at me. I assured him that I was not prospecting with a view to
burglary.

"I'm only asking you to do me a favour," I went on, and I put a couple
of Treasury notes into his hand. "You can inquire about me at my
office to-morrow, if you like. They will tell you, I expect, that I
have been away on a month's leave."

The little palm-oil no doubt propitiated him, for he invited me in.
Then he switched on the light in the hall, and as he did so, said:

"I don't know what trouble I'd get into with the master. He's a very
eccentric man--as you, of course, know."

I laughed as we ascended the soft carpeted stairs. I recollected the
pattern.

A few moments later we were in the library. Yes. It was just as I
remembered it. Nothing had been altered. There was the writing-table
whereon I had copied out the death certificate; the big fireplace, now
empty, and the deep chair in which I had sat.

There was the window, too--the window which I had opened in order to
gasp for air after that suffocating odour of _pot-pourr