"I personally saw Mr. Gray, Sir Lucien Pyne and the lady go into
Kazmah's. At that time--roughly, ten to seven--all the other offices
had been closed, approximately, one hour."

"There is absolutely no possibility that they might have come out
unseen by you?"

"None, sir. I should not have troubled a client if in doubt. Here's
Gunn."

Old Bond Street now was darkened and deserted; the yellow mist had
turned to fine rain, and Gunn, his hands thrust in his pockets, was
sheltering under the porch of the arcade. Gunn possessed a purple
complexion which attained to full vigor of coloring in the nasal
region. His moustache of dirty grey was stained brown in the centre as
if by frequent potations of stout, and his bulky figure was
artificially enlarged by the presence of two overcoats, the outer of
which was a waterproof and the inner a blue garment appreciably longer
both in sleeve and skirt than the former. The effect produced was one
of great novelty. Gunn touched the brim of his soft felt hat, which he
wore turned down all round apparently in imitation of a flower-pot.

"All snug, sir," he said, hoarsely and confidentially, bending forward
and breathing the words into Irvin's ear. "Snug as a bee in a hive.
You're as good as a bachelor again."

Monte Irvin mentally recoiled.

"Lead the way to the door of this place," he said tersely.