'Do as I tell you,' Lavendale thundered, 'or I'll shoot you where you sit! Remember you're not in New York. Do as I tell you.' Once more the car glided off. They turned almost immediately into Piccadilly, across Leicester Square, passed up the Strand and drew up at the Milan. Lavendale put his head through the window as the porter came out from the Court entrance. 'I can't open this door,' he said. 'Ask the fellow in front how to do it.' The porter stared with surprise at the shattered glass. The driver slipped down, touched a spring on the outside and the door flew open. He had pulled his cap deeper over his face. Lavendale looked at him for a moment steadfastly. 'Wait for me,' he ordered. He walked into the Court, rang for the lift and ascended to the fourth floor. He stepped out and rang the bell at number seventy-four. For a moment there was no answer. He rang it again. Then a light suddenly flashed up in the room and Mr. Kessner, fully dressed, stood upon the threshold. He gazed, speechless, at Lavendale, who pushed forward across the threshold, holding the door open with one hand. 'Mr. Kessner,' he said, 'your thug with the chloroform is lying on his back somewhere near Sackville Street. I shouldn't wonder if his spine wasn't broken. Your sham chauffeur is downstairs with his sham taxicab. I made him bring me here. You understand?' The tip of Mr. Kessner's tongue had moistened his lips. His lined yellow face seemed more than ever like the face of some noxious animal. 'You are drunk, young man,' he said. Lavendale raised his arm and Mr. Kessner stepped back. 'Don't be afraid,' Lavendale went on scornfully. 'I am not going to shoot you. When the day of reckoning comes between you and me, if ever it does, I shall take you by the throat and wring the life out of your body. But I am here now to tell you this. Before I sleep, a full account of this night's adventure, instigated by you and your assassin Courlander, will be written down and deposited in a safe place. If anything happens to me, if I disappear even for a dozen hours, that paper will be opened. You may get me, even now, you and Courlander between you, only you'll have to pay the price. See? In England it's a damned ugly price!' Mr. Kessner sucked the breath in between his teeth. Then, as though with some super-human effort, he recovered himself. 'Say, young fellow, won't you come in and talk this out?' he invited. Lavendale laughed dryly. '"Won't you walk into my parlour?"' he quoted mockingly. 'No, thank you, Mr. Kessner! You know where we stand now. Let me give you a word of warning. London isn't New York. A very little of this sort of thing and you'll find the hand of a law that can't be bought or bribed or evaded in any way, tapping upon your shoulders. You understand?' Mr. Kessner yawned. 'You are a foolish young man,' he said, 'and you've been reading a little too much modern fiction.'