, called for beer, and sat
smoking a cigarette and straining my ears to catch their conversation,
which was in Italian, a language I know fairly well.

I discovered the following facts. The thin-faced man was called
Giovanni, while the elegant young fellow was Uberto, and they were
discussing the arrival of somebody. Giovanni seemed dubious about
something, while the man who had left Hartmann's seemed enthusiastic.

After a quarter of an hour Uberto glanced at his watch, made some remark
to his companion, and they rose and went out together, driving in a
taxicab westward, I following in another, which I fortunately found
just in time. Through Kensington we went, over Hammersmith Bridge,
through Barnes, and across the Common.

Then I realised we were going to Richmond.

The chase grew exciting. Before me I could see the red back-lamp of the
taxi as it sped forward, and half an hour later we were crossing
Richmond Bridge, where, a short distance along the road to Twickenham,
they suddenly swung round to the left into St. Margaret's and pulled up
before a good-sized detached house which stood back in its own grounds,
in which were several big trees. The thoroughfare was, I noted, called
Brunswick road.

My taxi-driver proved himself no fool. I had told him to follow;
therefore, unable to pull up sharply, he swept past, and did not stop
until we were round the bend in the quiet suburban road and thus out of
sight.

I ordered him to remain, and, alighting, strolled back past the house in
question. About its dark exterior was a distinct air of mystery. The
pair had entered, and the taxi was awaiting them. The house was an
old-fashioned one, solid and substantial in character, and apparently
the residence of some prosperous City man; yet I wondered why its owner
should have visitors at that hour. Surely great urgency had compelled
the pair to come all the way from Piccadilly Circus to consult him.

But a surprise was in store for me.

After lurking about in the shadows with that expert evasiveness which I
had now acquired, I presently saw the pair make their exit, but, to my
surprise, they were accompanied out to the kerb by a woman--apparently
a lady in black evening dress, the bodice of which was cut low.

About her shoulders she had wrapped a pale blue shawl, and as the young
Uberto entered the taxi I heard her exclaim in Italian:

"_Addio!_ To-morrow at one then, at Prince's."

As she moved I saw her countenan