took it down with some curiosity. It was addressed to
James Nicholson, Esq., and stamped with the Strand postmark. I did not
recognize the writing, but common-sense told me that it could only be
from McMurtrie or one of his crowd.

When I opened the envelope I found that it contained a half-sheet
of note-paper, with the following words written in a sloping,
foreign-looking hand:

"You will receive either a message or a visitor at five o'clock
tomorrow afternoon. Kindly make it convenient to be at home at that
hour."

That was all. There was no signature and no address, and it struck
me that as an example of polite letter-writing it certainly left
something to be desired. Still, the message was clear enough, which
was the chief point, so, folding it up, I thrust it back into the
envelope and put it away in my pocket. After all, one can't expect a
really graceful literary style from a High Explosives Syndicate.

I wondered whether the note meant that the preparations which were
being made for me at Tilbury were finally completed. McMurtrie had
promised me a week in Town, and so far I had only had two days; still
I was hardly in a position to kick if he asked me to go down earlier.
Anyhow I should know the next day, so there seemed no use in worrying
myself about it unnecessarily.

It was my intention to spend a quiet interval reading one of my books,
before going out somewhere to get some dinner. In pursuance of this
plan I exchanged my boots for a pair of slippers and settled myself
down comfortably in the only easy-chair in the room. In about ten
minutes' time, faithful to her word, Gertie 'Uggins brought me up
an excellent cup of tea, and stimulated by this and the combined
intelligence and amorousness of Mr. Wells's hero, I succeeded in
passing two or three very agreeable hours.

At seven o'clock I roused myself rather reluctantly, put on my boots
again, and indulged in the luxury of a wash and a clean collar. Then,
after ringing the bell and informing Mrs. Oldbury that I should be out
to dinner, I left the house with the pleasantly vague intention of
wandering up West until I found some really attractive restaurant.

It was a beautiful evening, more like June than the end of April; and
with a cigarette alight, I strolled slowly along Victoria Street, my
mind busy over the various problems with which Providence had seen fit
to surround me. I had got nearly as far as the Stores, when a sudden
impulse took me t