Half-past nine on the following morning found us spinning along the
Albert Embankment in a hansom to the pleasant tinkle of the horse's
bell. Thorndyke appeared to be in high spirits, though the full
enjoyment of the matutinal pipe precluded fluent conversation. As a
precaution, he had put my notebook in his pocket before starting, and
once or twice he took it out and looked over its pages; but he made no
reference to the object of our quest, and the few remarks that he
uttered would have indicated that his thoughts were occupied with other
matters.

Arrived at Vauxhall Station, we alighted and forthwith made our way to
the bridge that spans Upper Kennington Lane near its junction with
Harleyford Road.

"Here is our starting point," said Thorndyke. "From this place to the
house is about three hundred yards--say four hundred and twenty
paces--and at about two hundred paces we ought to reach our patch of new
road-metal. Now, are you ready? If we keep step we shall average our
stride."

We started together at a good pace, stepping out with military
regularity and counting aloud as we went. As we told out the hundred and
ninety-fourth pace I observed Thorndyke nod towards the roadway a little
ahead, and, looking at it attentively as we approached, it was easy to
see by the regularity of surface and lighter colour, that it had
recently been re-metalled.

Having counted out the four hundred and twenty paces, we halted, and
Thorndyke turned to me with a smile of triumph.