rned out, my astonishment on hearing that he had taken a London
house was not the only surprise in store for me, for on reaching
Liverpool Street, who should come forward to meet us but the same
peculiar footman who had ridden beside the coachman on that memorable
return journey from Pompeii. He was dressed in the same dark and
unpretentious livery he had worn then, and while he greeted his master,
mistress, and myself with the most obsequious respect, did not betray
the least sign of either pleasure or astonishment. Having ascertained
that we had brought no luggage with us, he led us from the platform to
the yard outside, where we found a fine landau awaiting us, drawn by a
pair of jet-black horses, and driven by the same coachman I had seen in
Naples on the occasion referred to above. Having helped Valerie to
enter, and as soon as I had installed myself with my back to the horses,
Pharos said something in an undertone to the footman, and then took his
place opposite me. The door was immediately closed and we drove out of
the yard.

We soon left the City behind and proceeded along Victoria Street, and so
by way of Grosvenor Place to Park Lane, where we drew up before a house
at which, in the days when it had been the residence of the famous Lord
Tollingtower, I had been a constant visitor.

"I presume, since we have stopped here, that this must be the place,"
said Pharos, gazing up at it.

"Do you mean that this is the house you have taken?" I asked in
astonishment, for it was one of the finest residences in London.

"I mean that this is the house that my agents have taken for me," Pharos
replied. "Personally I know nothing whatsoever about it."

"But surely you do not take a place without making some inquiries about
it?" I continued.

"Why not?" he inquired. "I have servants whom I can trust, and they know
that it is more than their lives are worth to deceive me. Strangely
enough, however, it is recalled to my mind that this house and I do
happen to be acquainted. The late owner was a personal friend. As a
matter of fact, I stayed with him throughout his last illness and was
with him when he died."

You may be sure I pricked up my ears on hearing this, for, as everyone
knew, the later Lord Tollingtower had reached the end of his
extraordinary career under circumstances that had created rather a
sensation at the time. Something, however, warned me to ask no
questions.

"Let us alight," said Pharos, and when t