nd tragedies, the light of
some of London's greatest caravanserais formed a sort of minor
constellation. From the subdued blaze that showed the public
supper-rooms I looked up to the hundreds of starry points marking the
private apartments of those giant inns.

I thought how each twinkling window denoted the presence of some bird
of passage, some wanderer temporarily abiding in our midst. There,
floor piled upon floor above the chattering throngs, were these less
gregarious units, each something of a mystery to his fellow-guests,
each in his separate cell; and each as remote from real human
companionship as if that cell were fashioned, not in the bricks of
London, but in the rocks of Hindustan!

In one of those rooms Graham Guthrie might at that moment be sleeping,
all unaware that he would awake to the Call of Siva, to the summons of
death. As we neared the Strand, Smith stopped the cab, discharging the
man outside Sotheby's auction-rooms.

"One of the doctor's watch-dogs may be in the foyer," he said
thoughtfully, "and it might spoil everything if we were seen to go to
Guthrie's rooms. There must be a back entrance to the kitchens, and so
on?"

"There is," I replied quickly. "I have seen the vans delivering there.
But have we time?"

"Yes. Lead on."

We walked up the Strand and hurried westward. Into that narrow court,
with its iron posts and descending steps, upon which opens a well-known
wine-cellar, we turned. Then, going parallel with the Strand, but on
the Embankment level, we ran round the back of the great hotel, and
came to double doors which were open. An arc lamp illuminated the
interior and a number of men were at work among the casks, crates and
packages stacked about the place. We entered.

"Hallo!" cried a man in a white overall, "where d'you think you're
going?"

Smith grasped him by the arm.

"I want to get to the public part of the hotel without being seen from
the entrance hall," he said. "Will you please lead the way?"

"Here--" began the other, staring.

"Don't waste time!" snapped my friend, in that tone of authority which
he knew so well how to assume. "It's a matter of life and death. Lead
the way, I say!"

"Police, sir?" asked the man civilly.

"Yes," said Smith; "hurry!"

Off went our guide without further demur. Skirting sculleries,
kitchens, laundries and engine-rooms, he led us through those
mysterious labyrinths which have no existence for the guest above,