in a mortuary wagon, as
the new-comers scrambled in, scattering mud and water over them, feeling
for the overhead straps. Colwyn did not attempt to enter. Even a
Smithfield tram-car would be better than the interior of a 'bus on a wet
night.

An ancient four-wheeler went past, crawling dejectedly homeward. The
driver checked his gaunt horse at the sight of Colwyn standing on the
kerb-stone, and raised an interrogative whip. He added a vocal appeal
for hire based on the incredible assumption that a man must live, which
he proclaimed with a whip elevated to the sodden heavens, calling on a
God, invisible in the fog, to bear witness that he hadn't turned a wheel
that night. The phrasing of the appeal helped Colwyn to recall that it
was the same cabman who had accosted Philip Heredith and himself on the
night they had motored to the moat-house.

He engaged the cab and entered the dark interior. The whip which had
been uplifted in pious aspiration fell in benedictory thanks on the bare
ribs of the horse. The equipage jolted over the _Angel_ crossing into
the squalid precincts of St. John's Street. In a short time the
overpowering smell of slaughtered beasts announced the proximity of
Smithfield. The cab turned down Charterhouse Street towards Farringdon
Market, and a little later pulled up under the archway at Ludgate
Circus.

"I leaves it to you, sir," said the cabman, in a husky whisper. His
expectant palm closed rigidly on the silver coins, and his whip fell on
the lean sides of his horse with a crack like a pistol shot as he
wheeled round, leaving the detective standing in the road.

The fog had almost cleared away, but the unlighted streets were plunged
in deep gloom, through which groups of late wayfarers passed dimly and
melted vaguely, like ghosts in the darkness of eternity. As Colwyn was
about to enter the corridor leading to his chambers, a man brushed past
him in the doorway. There was something about the figure which struck
the detective as familiar, and he walked quickly after him. By the light
of the departing cab he saw his face. It was Nepcote.

CHAPTER XXV

In that swift unexpected recognition Colwyn observed that the man for
whom they had been searching looked pale and worn. He stood quite still
in the doorway, his breath coming and going in quick gasps.

"We have been looking for you, Captain Nepcote," Colwyn said.

"I am aware of that. I have been waiting to see you, but I could get
no