me moment.

They paused for a second or two opposite each other in a natural doubt;
then a certain geniality, fundamental perhaps in both of them, made Sir
Walter smile and say: "The night is foggy. Pray take my cab."

Before I could count twenty the cab had gone rattling up the street with
both of them. And before I could count twenty-three Grant had hissed in
my ear:

"Run after the cab; run as if you were running from a mad dog--run."

We pelted on steadily, keeping the cab in sight, through dark mazy
streets. God only, I thought, knows why we are running at all, but we
are running hard. Fortunately we did not run far. The cab pulled up at
the fork of two streets and Sir Walter paid the cabman, who drove away
rejoicing, having just come in contact with the more generous among the
rich. Then the two men talked together as men do talk together after
giving and receiving great insults, the talk which leads either to
forgiveness or a duel--at least so it seemed as we watched it from ten
yards off. Then the two men shook hands heartily, and one went down one
fork of the road and one down another.

Basil, with one of his rare gestures, flung his arms forward.

"Run after that scoundrel," he cried; "let us catch him now."

We dashed across the open space and reached the juncture of two paths.

"Stop!" I shouted wildly to Grant. "That's the wrong turning."

He ran on.

"Idiot!" I howled. "Sir Walter's gone down there. Wimpole has slipped
us. He's half a mile down the other road. You're wrong... Are you deaf?
You're wrong!"

"I don't think I am," he panted, and ran on.

"But I saw him!" I cried. "Look in front of you. Is that Wimpole? It's
the old man... What are you doing? What are we to do?"

"Keep running," said Grant.

Running soon brought us up to the broad back of the pompous old baronet,
whose white whiskers shone silver in the fitful lamplight. My brain was
utterly bewildered. I grasped nothing.

"Charlie," said Basil hoarsely, "can you believe in my common sense for
four minutes?"

"Of course," I said, panting.

"Then help me to catch that man in front and hold him down. Do it at
once when I say 'Now'. Now!"

We sprang on Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh, and rolled that portly old
gentleman on his back. He fought with a commendable valour, but we got
him tight. I had not the remotest notion why. He had a splendid and
full-blooded vigour; when he could not box he kicked, and we bound him;
when he coul