"Where to, sir?" inquired the driver. I reflected rapidly. Knowing that Milford was better, I had no particular desire to go back to Park Lane, even if the new butler had arrived. The thought of a solitary dinner in that big dining-room distinctly failed to appeal to me. "Oh, drive me to the Café Royal," I said. The cooking at that delightful establishment is good enough by itself to induce a certain satisfaction with the world. Backed as it was, in the present case, by my feelings of joy in the prospect of Billy's company, it lifted me into a state of serene optimism such as I had not known since my first fortnight in England. I dined deliberately, choosing my wines after consultation with the head waiter, and also accepting the latter's excellent advice in the matter of a cigar. Then for the best part of an hour I sat and smoked, gently contemplating my fellow-diners through the haze, and finally deciding that not even the lady with the emeralds, who was undoubtedly the prettiest woman in the room, could hold a candle to Mercia Solano. Having arrived at this conclusion, I paid my bill and strolled out to walk back to Park Lane. I had not forgotten the possible dangers of solitary pedestrian exercise, but the evening was fine, I had my trusty sword-stick with me, and I felt that I would be damned if M. Guarez or any other infernal Dago should compel me to spend the remainder of my life in cabs. Nevertheless, despite this defiant mood, I took particular care to keep my eyes open. The old rhyme, "Thrice blest is he who hath his quarrel just, but ten times he who gets his blow in fust," has always struck me as a peculiarly sound piece of philosophy, and I scanned each harmless passer-by who approached with a wary eye for any symptom of trouble. Unless anyone took a pot-shot at me from the Park railings, I felt that I was fairly safe, and my sense of security was increased by seeing a comfortable-looking Bobby standing right under the big electric light just opposite my home. He saluted me as I came up. "Good evening, Constable," I said. "Good evenin', sir," he returned. "No more trouble with any of them beggars, I hope?" It was just on the tip of my tongue to ask, "What beggars?" when I suddenly recollected myself. "No, thanks," I said, wondering what on earth he meant. "Since you complained to me, sir, I've been keeping a good look-out, and I reckon they've spotted it and cleared off." In a flash I realised that Northcote must have taken these ingenious means of rendering any vigil on the part of M. Guarez and his friends a somewhat trying affair. "I'm much obliged to you," I said. "I don't want to complain officially, but you might keep your eyes open a bit longer. It's a nuisance to have people hanging round the house." As I spoke, I handed him half a sovereign, which he accepted without a quiver. "Thank you very much, sir," he said. "I'll see you're not bothered again, sir. Don't you worry about that."