uncle. If that murderer was to be tracked--why, there
was a certain zest, an appealing excitement in the tracking of him that
presented a sure fascination to youthful spirits.

That evening found Selwood, quietly and unassumingly attired, examining
the purlieus of Soho. It was a district of which he knew little, and for
half an hour he perambulated its streets, wondering at the distinctly
foreign atmosphere. And suddenly he came across the Hotel Ravenna--there
it was, confronting him, at the lower end of Dean Street. He drew back
and looked it well over from the opposite pavement.

The Hotel Ravenna was rather more of a pretentious establishment than
Selwood had expected it to be. It was typically Italian in outward
aspect. There were the usual evergreen shrubs set in the usual green
wood tubs at the entrance; the usual abundance of plate-glass and garish
gilt; the usual glimpse, whenever the door opened, of the usual vista of
white linen, red plush, and many mirrors; the waiter who occasionally
showed himself at the door, napkin in hand, was of the type which
Selwood had seen a thousand times under similar circumstances. But all
this related to the restaurant--Selwood was more interested that the
word "Hotel" appeared in gilt letters over a door at the side of the
establishment and was repeated in the windows of the upper storeys. He
was half-minded to enter the door at once, and to make a guarded inquiry
for Mr. Luigi Dimambro; on reflection he walked across the street and
boldly entered the restaurant.

It was half-past seven o'clock, and the place was full of customers.
Selwood took most of them to be foreigners. He also concluded after a
first glance around him that the majority had some connection, more or
less close, with either the dramatic, or the musical, or the artistic
professions. There was much laughter and long hair, marvellous neckties
and wondrous costumes; everybody seemed to be talking without regard to
question or answer; the artillery of the voices mingled with the
rattling of plates and popping of corks. Clearly this was no easy place
in which to seek for a man whom one had never seen!

Selwood allowed a waiter to conduct him to a vacant seat--a plush throne
half-way along the restaurant. He ordered a modest dinner and a bottle
of light wine, and following what seemed to be the custom, lighted a
cigarette until his first course appeared. And while he waited he looked
about him, noting everything