of rain that had gathered on the window-sill slowly
released their hold from time to time and fell with a plump on the hats
of passers-by. Lord Randolph was watching them.

Just as they were letting go he shook the window to make the wayfarers
look up. They got the rain-drops full in the face, and then he
screamed.

About six o'clock Andrew paid his bill hurriedly and ran downstairs.
Lord Randolph had come to the window in his greatcoat. His follower
waited for him outside. It was possible that he would take a hansom
and drive straight to the House, but Andrew had reasons for thinking
this unlikely. The rain had somewhat abated. Lord Randolph came out,
put up his umbrella, and, glancing at the sky for a moment, set off
briskly up St. Martin's Lane.

Andrew knew that he would not linger here, for they had done St.
Martin's Lane already.

Lord Randolph's movements these last days had excited the Scotchman's
curiosity. He had been doing the London streets systematically during
his unoccupied afternoons. But it was difficult to discover what he
was after.

It was the tobacconists' shops that attracted him.

He did not enter, only stood at the windows counting something.

He jotted down the result on a piece of paper and then sped on to the
next shop.

In this way, with Andrew at his heels, he had done the whole of the W.
C. district, St. James's, Oxford Street, Piccadilly, Bond Street, and
the Burlington Arcade.

On this occasion he took the small thoroughfares lying between upper
Regent Street and Tottenham Court Road. Beginning in Great Titchfield
Street he went from tobacconist's to tobacconist's, sometimes smiling
to himself, at other times frowning. Andrew scrutinised the windows as
he left them, but could make nothing of it.

Not for the first time he felt that there could be no murder to-night
unless he saw the paper first.

Lord Randolph devoted an hour to this work. Then he hailed a cab.

Andrew expected this. But the statesman still held the paper loosely
in his hand.

It was a temptation.

Andrew bounded forward as if to open the cab door, pounced upon the
paper and disappeared with it up an alley. After five minutes' dread
lest he might be pursued, he struck a match and read:

"Great Titchfield Street--Branscombe 15, Churchill 11, Langtry 8,
Gladstone 4.

"Mortimer Street--Langtry 11, Branscombe 9, Gladstone 6, Mary Anderson
6, Churchill 3.

"Margaret Street--Churchill 7, An