dinner-party was evidently going on. A hall porter and four powdered
footmen were in evidence.

'By Jove!' said Bruce, as he got out, 'I'd no idea old Mitchell did
himself so well as this.'... The butler had never heard of the
Mitchells. The house belonged to Lord Rosenberg.

'Confound it! 'said Bruce, as he flung himself into the taxi. 'Well!
I've made a mistake for once in my life. I admit it. Of course, it's
really Hamilton Gardens. Sorry. Yet somehow I'm rather glad Mitchell
doesn't live in that house.'

'You are perfectly right,' said Edith: 'the bankruptcy of an old friend
and colleague could be no satisfaction to any man.'

Hamilton Gardens was a gloomy little place, like a tenement building
out of Marylebone Road. Bruce, in trying to ring the bell,
unfortunately turned out all the electric light in the house, and was
standing alone in despair in the dark when, fortunately the porter, who
had been out to post a letter, ran back, and turned up the light
again.... 'I shouldn't have thought they could play musical crambo
here, 'he called out to Edith while he was waiting. 'And now isn't it
odd? I have a funny kind of feeling that the right address is Hamilton
House.'

'I suppose you're perfectly certain they don't live at a private idiot
asylum?' Edith suggested doubtfully.

On inquiry it appeared the Mitchells did not live at Hamilton Gardens.
An idea occurred to Edith, and she asked for a directory.