have heard it. He returned to his room and softly closed the door. Again
the sense of emptiness oppressed him. A faint perfume around the place
where she had stood came to him like a whiff of some delicious memory. He
set his teeth, lit a cigarette, and sitting down at his desk wrote a few
lines to his neighbour, embodying the message which had been given him.
With the note in his hand he ascended to the next floor.

There was apparently no light in flat number 11, but he rang the bell and
listened. There was no answer, no sound of any one moving within. For
nearly ten minutes he waited--listening. He was strongly tempted to open
the door with his own key and see for himself if she was there. Then he
remembered that Barnes was a man whom he barely knew, and cordially
disliked, and that if he should return unexpectedly, the situation would
be a little difficult to explain. Reluctantly he descended to his own
flat, and mixing himself a whisky and soda, lit a pipe and sat down,
determined to wait until he heard Barnes return. In less than a quarter
of an hour he was asleep!




CHAPTER II

THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM


Wrayson sat up with a sudden and violent start. His pipe had fallen on to
the floor, leaving a long trail of grey ash upon his waistcoat and
trousers. The electric lights were still burning, but of the fire nothing
remained but a pile of ashes. As soon as he could be said to be conscious