y.

Ford now believed he had found the house, found the woman, and was
eager only to get rid of his companion and, in his own person, return to
Sowell Street. But, lest the man might suspect there was in his actions
something more serious than a practical joke, he forced himself to sing
the new songs in three different streets. Then, pretending to tire of
his prank, he paid the musician and left him. He was happy, exultant,
tingling with excitement. Good-luck had been with him, and, hoping that
Gerridge's might yet yield some clew to Pearsall, he returned there.
Calling up the London office of the REPUBLIC, he directed that one of
his assistants, an English lad named Cuthbert, should at once join him
at that hotel. Cuthbert was but just out of Oxford. He wished to become
a writer of fiction, and, as a means of seeing many kinds of life at
first hand, was in training as a "Pressman." His admiration for Ford
amounted to almost hero-worship; and he regarded an "assignment" with
his chief as a joy and an honor. Full of enthusiasm, and as soon as a
taxicab could bring him, he arrived at Gerridge's, where, in a corner of
the deserted coffee-room, Ford explained the situation. Until he could
devise a way to enter the Sowell Street house. Cuthbert was to watch
over it.

"The number of the house is forty," Ford told him; "the name on the
door-plate, Dr. Prothero. Find out everything you can about him without
letting any one catch you at it. Better begin at the nearest chemist's.
Say you are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and ask the man to mix
you a sedative, and recommend a physician. Show him Prothero's name and
address on a piece of paper, and say Prothero has been recommended to
you as a specialist on nervous troubles. Ask what he thinks of him. Get
him to talk. Then visit the trades-people and the public-houses in the
neighborhood, and say you are from some West End shop where Prothero,
wants to open an account. They may talk, especially if his credit is
bad. And, if you find out enough about him to give me a working basis,
I'll try to get into the house to-night. Meanwhile, I'm going to make
another quick search of this hotel for Pearsall. I'm not satisfied he
has not been here. For why should Miss Dale, with all the hotels in
London to choose from, have named this particular one, unless she had
good reason for it? Now, go, and meet me in an hour in Sowell Street."

Cuthbert was at the door when he remembered he ha