look at her, mister, or off goes your
topper into the river. She's in a bad temper to-night."

Brett laughed and walked ahead. On reaching the Surrey side the girl made
for the Waterloo Road. There she mounted on top of a 'bus. The barrister
went inside. He thought of the "man with black, snaky eyes," who "took
penn'orths" all the way from the Elephant to Whitehall.

And now he, Brett, took a penn'orth to the Elephant. The 'bus reached that
famous centre of humanity, passing thence through Newington Butts to the
Kennington Park Road.

In the latter thoroughfare the girl skipped down from the roof, and
disdaining the conductor's offer to stop, swung herself lightly to the
ground. The barrister followed, and soon found himself tracking her along
a curved street of dingy houses.

Into one of these she vanished. It chanced to be opposite a gas-lamp, and
as he walked past he made out the number--37.

Externally it was exactly like its neighbours, dull, soiled, pinched, old
curtains, worn blinds, blistered paint. He knew that if he walked inside
he would tread on a strip of oilcloth, once gay in red and yellow squares,
but now worn to a dirty grey uniformity. In the "hall" he would encounter
a rickety hat-stand faced by an ancient print entitled "Idle Hours," and
depicting two ladies, reclining on rocks, attired in tremendous skirts,
tight jackets, and diminutive straw hats perched between their forehead
and chignons--in the middle distance a fat urchin, all hat and frills,
staring stupidly at the ocean.

In the front sitting-room he would encounter horse-hair chairs, frayed
carpet, and more early Victorian prints; in the back sitting-room more
frayed carpet, more prints, and possibly a bed.

Nothing very mysterious or awe-inspiring about 37 Middle Street, yet the
barrister was loth to leave the place. The scent of the chase was in his
nostrils. He had "found."

He was tempted to boldly approach and frame some excuse--a hunt for
lodgings, an inquiry for a missing friend, anything to gain admittance and
learn something, however meagre in result, of the occupants.

He reviewed the facts calmly. To attempt, at such an hour, to glean
information from the sharp-tongued young person who had just admitted
herself with a latchkey, was to court failure and suspicion. He must bide
his time. Winter was an adept in ferreting out facts concerning these
localities and their denizens. To Winter the inquiry must be left.

He stopp