at half past seven in the restaurant."

"I guess you'll have to look sharp, then." Mr. Coulson remarked.
"Do you see the time?"

Vanderpole glanced at the clock and whistled softly to himself.

"Tell you what!" he exclaimed, "I'll write a note to one of the
friends I've got to meet, and leave it here. Boy," he added,
turning to a page boy, "get me a taxi as quick as you can."

The boy ran out into the Strand, and Vanderpole, sitting down at
the table, wrote a few lines, which he sealed and addressed and
handed to one of the reception clerks. Then he shook hands with
Coulson and threw himself into a corner of the cab which was
waiting.

"Drive down the Brompton Road," he said to the man. "I'll direct
you later."

It was a quarter past seven when he left the hotel. At half past
a policeman held up his hand and stopped the taxi, to the
driver's great astonishment, as he was driving slowly across
Melbourne Square, Kensington.

"What's the matter?" the man asked. "You can't say I was
exceeding my speed limit."

The policeman scarcely noticed him. His head was already through
the cab window.