final muttered imprecation he turned and slowly descended the stair. A
lingering hope was dispelled when, looking right and left along Bond
Street, he failed to perceive the missing pair.

The cabman glanced at him interrogatively. "I shall not require you,"
said Gray, and gave the man half-a-crown.

Busy with his poisonous conjectures, he remained all unaware of the
presence of a furtive, stooping figure which lurked behind the
railings of the arcade at this point linking old Bond Street to
Albemarle Street. Nor had the stooping stranger any wish to attract
Gray's attention. Most of the shops in the narrow lane were already
closed, although the florist's at the corner remained open, but of the
shadow which lay along the greater part of the arcade this alert
watcher took every advantage. From the recess formed by a shop door he
peered out at Gray, where the light of a street lamp fell upon him,
studying his face, his movements, with unrelaxing vigilance.

Gray, following some moments of indecision, strode off towards
Piccadilly. The little man came out cautiously from his hiding-place
and looked after him. Out of a dark porch, ten paces along Bond
Street, appeared a burly figure to fall into step a few yards behind
Gray. The little man licked his lips appreciatively and returned to
the doorway below the premises of Kazmah.

Reaching Piccadilly, Gray stood for a time on the corner, indifferent
to the jostling of passers-by. Finally he crossed, walked along to the
Prince's Restaurant, and entered the lobby. He glanced at his wrist-
watch. It registered the hour of seven-twenty-five.