ard?"

"Yes. Oh, TOMMY!"

Tommy squeezed her arm sympathetically.

"I know, old thing. I feel the same."

"It's--it's so lovely to think of things--and then for them really to
happen!" cried Tuppence enthusiastically.

Her hand was still in Tommy's. They had reached the entrance hall. There
were footsteps on the stairs above them, and voices.

Suddenly, to Tommy's complete surprise, Tuppence dragged him into the
little space by the side of the lift where the shadow was deepest.

"What the----"

"Hush!"

Two men came down the stairs and passed out through the entrance.
Tuppence's hand closed tighter on Tommy's arm.

"Quick--follow them. I daren't. He might recognize me. I don't know who
the other man is, but the bigger of the two was Whittington."

CHAPTER VII. THE HOUSE IN SOHO

WHITTINGTON and his companion were walking at a good pace. Tommy started
in pursuit at once, and was in time to see them turn the corner of the
street. His vigorous strides soon enabled him to gain upon them, and by
the time he, in his turn, reached the corner the distance between them
was sensibly lessened. The small Mayfair streets were comparatively
deserted, and he judged it wise to content himself with keeping them in
sight.

The sport was a new one to him. Though familiar with the technicalities
from a course of novel reading, he had never before attempted to
"follow" anyone, and it appeared to him at once that, in actual
practice, the proceeding was fraught with difficulties. Supposing, for
instance, that they should suddenly hail a taxi? In books, you simply
leapt into another, promised the driver a sovereign--or its modern
equivalent--and there you were. In actual fact, Tommy foresaw that it
was extremely likely there would be no second taxi. Therefore he
would have to run. What happened in actual fact to a young man who ran
incessantly and persistently through the London streets? In a main road
he might hope to create the illusion that he was merely running for a
bus. But in these obscure aristocratic byways he could not but feel that
an officious policeman might stop him to explain matters.

At this juncture in his thoughts a taxi with flag erect turned the
corner of the street ahead. Tommy held his breath. Would they hail it?

He drew a sigh of relief as they allowed it to pass unchallenged. Their
course was a zigzag one designed to bring them as quickly as possible
to Oxford Street. When at length they turned