who had scraped up a few
guineas perhaps to do himself well--on the bust. No, that won't do.
Ordered his dinner too well for that. Had the air of a man accustomed
to the best places. Brown said so. A shilling and five coppers to the
porter. Queer kind of tip! What in blazes was the fellow doing? What
sort of company does he keep?"

Cranbourne jumped into a taxi and returned to the Berkeley. It was
closed but a night porter admitted him.

"Look here, I want to get hold of Brown," he said.

"You're in luck, sir," the man returned. "One of our visitors 'as been
giving a supper and Mr. Brown was in charge. If 'e 'asn't gone I'll
try and get him for you."

He returned a moment later with Brown following.

"Tremendously sorry," said Cranbourne, "but I want to ask you a few
more questions about that fellow I spoke of."

"I've been thinking about him myself, sir, and one or two things have
come to mind. Remembered his tie for instance."

"Yes."

"Old Etonian colours," said Brown.

Cranbourne nodded enthusiastically.

"Anything else?"

"I was looking over his bill this afternoon and it seems to me he did
himself too well to be natural. Rare for a man by himself to order a
long dinner like that. Then again he looked at the prices on the menu
just as if he meant to spend up to a certain amount. Something odd in
that--unusual. But I'm pretty sure it was in his mind, sir."

"And you believe he spent the last of his notes."

"Certain of it."

"What's your idea?"

"He was very hungry--eat everything put before him. I should
say--'course it's only a guess----"

"Well?"

"He'd gone a bit short and was wanting that meal."

"Did he seem depressed?"

"Not a bit. Rather amused. But it struck me when he got up he looked
like a man saying goodbye to his mother."

"How old should you think?"

"Thirty-two or three."

"Old Etonian tie?"

"Yes."

"You're a man of experience, Brown," said Cranbourne. "Ever known a
case of a chap who's on the point of going under, blueing the last of
his cash on one big dinner?"

"I should just think so. There's a type does that sort of thing."

"His type?"

"Or one very like it."

"Many thanks. You've helped me no end. Now I'll get a taxi and drive
to Windsor. Goodnight."

Just beyond the Ritz he found a taxi willing to undertake the journey.
It was a pity he found it so easily for a hundred yards further down
the slope the man he sought was sleepin