Dudley went at a great pace into Holborn, and then he stopped. The
traffic had dwindled down to an occasional hansom and to a thin line of
foot-passengers on the pavements. He looked to right, to left, and then
he turned suddenly and came face to face with Max.

"Hello!" cried he. "Where are you going to? Where are you putting up?"

"At the Arundel," answered Max, taken aback, and stammering a little.

Dudley had recovered his usual tones.

"Come to my club," said he. "We can get some supper there and have that
pipe."

"But how about Liverpool and the friend you had to see off?" asked Max.

Dudley hesitated ever so slightly.

"Oh, he's given me the slip," he answered, in a tone which sounded
careless enough. "Gone off without waiting for me. So my conscience is
free on his score."

Max said nothing for a moment. Then he thought himself justified in
setting a trap for his friend.

"Who is he?" asked he. "Anybody I know?"

"No," replied Dudley. "A man I met in the country, who showed me a good
deal of kindness. From Yorkshire. Man named Browning. Very good fellow,
but erratic. Said he'd wait for me in the cab, and disappeared before I