"Come on there. I'll meet you at the door. We can't talk here. That
cop's got his eye on us."

He walked away. As he went, he smiled. The policeman's inspection had
made him suddenly alert and on his guard. Yet why? What did it matter
to Sir James Pitt, baronet, if the whole police force of London
stopped and looked at him?

"Queer thing, habit," he said, as he made his way across the road.




CHAPTER II.


A black figure detached itself from the blacker shadows, and shuffled
stealthily to where Jimmy stood on the doorstep.

"That you, Spike?" asked Jimmy, in a low voice.

"Dat's right, Mr. Chames."

"Come on in."

He led the way up to his rooms, switched on the electric light, and
shut the door. Spike stood blinking at the sudden glare. He twirled
his battered hat in his hands. His red hair shone fiercely.