ming 'bus came to grief right between us and them, and blocked the
traffic! And though I nearly broke my neck in trying to get through and
spot them, it was no use. They'd clean disappeared. But!--I've got the
number of the cab they took from Cannon Street."

Appleyard nodded approval.

"Good!" he said. "That's something, Gaffney--a good deal. We can work on
from that."

"Well?" he continued, turning to Allerdyke. "I think there's nothing else
we can do to-night? We'd better meet, all of us, at Gresham Street, at,
say, ten to-morrow morning; then I shall be able to say if they return to
the Pompadour to-night. It's my impression they won't--but we shall see."

Allerdyke presently drove him to his hotel, wondering all the way what
these last doings might really mean. They were surprising enough, but
there was another surprise awaiting him. As he walked into the Waldorf
the hall-porter stopped him.

"There's a gentleman for you, sir, in the waiting-room," he said. "Been
waiting a good hour. Name of Chettle."

CHAPTER XXIX

THE PARCEL FROM HULL

Chettle sat alone in the waiting-room, a monument of patient resignation
to his fate. His hands were bunched on the head of his walking-stick, his
chin propped on his hands; his eyes were bent on a certain spot on the
carpet with a fixed stare. And when Allerdyke entered he sprang up as if
roused from a fitful slumber.

"I should ha' been asleep in another minute, Mr. Allerdyke," he said
apologetically. "Been waiting over an hour, sir--and I'm dog-tired. I've
been at it, hard at it! every minute since I left you. And--I had to
come. I've news."

"Come up," said Allerdyke. "I've news, too--it's been naught else but
news all day. You haven't seen Fullaway while you've been waiting?"

"Seen nobody but the hotel folks," answered the detective. He followed
Allerdyke up to his private sitting-room and sighed wearily as he dropped
into a chair. "I'm dog-tired," he repeated. "Fair weary!"

"Have a drink," said Allerdyke, setting out his decanter and a syphon.
"Take a stiff 'un--I'll have one myself. I'm tired, too. I wouldn't like
this game to be on long, Chettle--it's too exhausting. But, by the Lord
Harry!--I believe it's coming to an end at last!"

The detective, who had gladly helped himself to Allerdyke's whisky, took
a long pull at his glass and sighed with relief.

"I believe so myself, Mr. Allerdyke," he said. "I do, indeed!--things are
clearing, sir, thoug