they will see light where we grope in darkness."

"Desmond," said Dicky, giving me his hand, "that's the most sensible
suggestion you've made yet. Go home and good luck to you. But promise me
you'll come back here and tell me if that piece of paper brings the
news that dear old Francis is alive."

So I left Dicky but I did not go home. I was not destined to see my home
for many a weary week.




CHAPTER III

A VISITOR IN THE NIGHT


A volley of invective from the box of the cab--bad language in Dutch is
fearfully effective--aroused me from my musings. The cab, a small,
uncomfortable box with a musty smell, stopped with a jerk that flung me
forward. From the outer darkness furious altercation resounded above the
plashing of the rain. I peered through the streaming glass of the
windows but could distinguish nothing save the yellow blur of a lamp.
Then a vehicle of some kind seemed to move away in front of us, for I
heard the grating of wheels against the kerb, and my cab drew up to the
pavement.

On alighting, I found myself in a narrow, dark street with high houses
on either side. A grimy lamp with the word "Hôtel" in half-obliterated