ss. And yet, unless all the signs were misleading, it was
evident that he and his next-door neighbour were on fairly intimate
terms. The most probable explanation seemed to me that she was some
elderly lady artist who darned his socks for him, and shed tears
in secret over the state of his wardrobe. There was a magnificent
uncouthness about Tommy which would appeal irresistibly to a certain
type of motherly woman.

I strolled up the embankment in the direction of Chelsea Bridge,
smiling to myself over the idea. Whether it was right or not, it
presented such a pleasing picture that I had walked several hundred
yards before I quite woke up to my surroundings. Then with a sudden
start I realized that I was quite close to George's house.

It was a big red-brick affair, standing back from the embankment
facing the river. As I came opposite I could see that there was a
light on the first floor, in the room which I knew George used as a
study. I stopped for a minute, leaning back against the low wall and
staring up at the window.

I wondered what my cousin was doing. Perhaps he was sitting there,
looking through the evening paper in the vain hope of finding news
of my capture. I could almost see the lines on his forehead and the
nervous, jerky way in which he would be biting his fingers--a trick of
his that had always annoyed me intensely. He would bite harder than
ever if he only knew that I was standing outside in the darkness not
more than twenty yards away from him!

I waited for a little while in the hope that he might come to the
window, but this luxury was denied me.

"Good-night, George," I said softly; "we'll meet in the morning," and
then, with a last affectionate look at the lighted blind, I continued
my way along the embankment.

I was not sure which turning I ought to take for Edith Terrace, but an
obliging policeman who was on duty outside the Tate Gallery put me on
the right track. There was something delicately pleasing to my sense
of humour in appealing to a constable, and altogether it was in a
most contented frame of mind that I inserted my latch-key into Mrs.
Oldbury's door and let myself into the house. My first day's holiday
seemed to me to have been quite a success.

CHAPTER X

MADEMOISELLE VIVIEN, PALMIST

I woke next morning at seven, or perhaps I should say I was awakened
by Gertie 'Uggins, who to judge from the noise was apparently engaged
in wrecking the sitting-room. I looked at