be properly appreciated. My dinner tonight happens to be one of
them."

She shifted from one leg to the other. "Yes, sir," she said. Then with
a little giggle she turned and scuttled out of the room.

I washed and dressed myself slowly, revelling in the sensation of
being once more in clean garments of my own. I was determined not to
spoil my evening by allowing any bitter or unpleasant thoughts to
disturb me until I had dined; after that, I reflected, it would be
quite time enough to map out my dealings with George.

Lighting a cigarette I left the house, and set off at a leisurely pace
along Edith Terrace. It was my intention to walk to Victoria, and then
take a taxi from there to whatever restaurant I decided to dine at.
The latter question was not a point to be determined lightly, and as I
strolled along I debated pleasantly in my mind the attractions of two
or three of my old haunts.

By the time I reached Victoria I had decided in favour of
Gaultier's--if Gaultier's was still in existence. It was a place that,
in my time at all events, had been chiefly frequented by artists and
foreigners, but the food, of its kind, was as good there as anywhere
in London.

I beckoned to a passing taxi, and waving his arm in response the
driver swerved across the street and drew up at the kerb.

"Where to, guv'nor?" he inquired.

I gave him the direction, and then turned to open the door. As I did
so I noticed a man standing on the pavement close beside me looking
vacantly across the street. For an instant I wondered where I had seen
him before; then quite suddenly I remembered. He was the man we
had passed in Edith Terrace, lighting a cigarette under the street
lamp--the man who had reminded me of one of the prison warders. I knew
I was not mistaken because I could see the scar on his face.

With a sudden vague sense of uneasiness I got into the taxi and shut
the door. The gentleman on the pavement paid no attention to me at
all. He continued to stand there staring aimlessly at the traffic,
until we had jerked forward and turned off round the corner of
Victoria Street.

All the same the incident had left a kind of uncomfortable feeling
behind it. I suppose an escaped convict is naturally inclined to be
suspicious, and somehow or other I couldn't shake off the impression
that I was being watched and followed. If so, I had not much doubt
whom I was indebted to for the honour. It had never seemed to me
likely that McMur