r of the city was growing fainter. Yet
Tavernake felt indisposed to move. The look in that man's drawn white
face and black eyes haunted him, There was tragedy there, the shadow of
terrible things, fear, and the murderous desire to kill! Through that
door they had passed, the two men, one in flight, the other in pursuit.
Where were they now? Perhaps it had been a trap. Pritchard had spoken
seriously enough of his enemies.

Then, as he stood there, he saw for the first time a thin line of light
through the closely-drawn curtains of a room on the ground floor of the
adjoining house. Without a moment's hesitation, he crossed the road and
rang the bell. The door was opened, after a trifling delay, by a man
in plain clothes, who might, however, have been a servant in mufti. He
looked at Tavernake suspiciously.

"I am sorry to have disturbed you," Tavernake explained, "but I saw some
one go in the house next to you, a little time ago. Can you tell me if
you have heard any noises or voices during the last half-hour?"

The man shook his head.

"We have heard nothing, sir," he said.

"Who lives here?" Tavernake asked.

"Did you call me up at one o'clock in the morning to ask silly
questions?" the man replied insolently. "Every one's in bed here and I
was just going."

"There's a light in your ground floor room," Tavernake remarked.
"There's some one talking there now--I can hear voices."

The man closed the door in his face. For some time Tavernake wandered
restlessly about, starting at last reluctantly homewards. He had reached
the Strand and was crossing Trafalgar Square when a sudden thought held
him. He stood still for a moment in the middle of the street. Then he
turned abruptly round. In less than five minutes he was once more on the
Terrace.

CHAPTER XIX. TAVERNAKE INTERVENES

Tavernake had the feelings of a man suddenly sobered as he turned once
more into the Adelphi Terrace. Waiting until no one was in sight, he
opened the door of the empty house with the Yale key which he had kept,
and carefully closed it. He struck a match and listened for several
minutes intently; not a sound from anywhere. He moved a few yards
further to the bottom of the stairs, and listened again; still silence.
He turned the handle of the ground floor apartment and commenced a fresh
search. Room by room he examined by the light of his rapidly dwindling
matches. This time he meant to leave behind him no possibility of any
mist