I posted this letter at the G.P.O., and returned to Curzon Street. In the morning Sir William Dagmar was in a high fever and raving deliriously. As I had a houseful to provide for, and am not a lover of trouble, I went early abroad and arranged with a restaurateur to supply all our meals. I then drove in a cab to a post office in the Old Kent Road and sent myself a telegram from my dying mother, which arrived at noon. Sir Charles Venner visited his patient at one, and after he had gone I showed my telegram to Mr. Sefton Dagmar and Nurse Hargreaves, both of whom urged me to attend the summons, assuring me that I was not needed at the house. I tearfully allowed their protestations to prevail, and betook myself to my little stronghold in Bruton Street. There arrived, I spent the rest of that day making myself up to represent the old actor whom I had impersonated on the occasion when I had shadowed my master to the Kingsmere Hospital for Consumptives. For a purpose, to be afterwards explained, I furnished my pockets with a small assortment of wigs, beards and moustaches. When darkness fell I issued forth and rode in a cab to the Colonnade Hotel. The clerk stared at me rather haughtily when I asked for a room in so swell a place, but I satisfied his scruples with half a sovereign, which tip no doubt induced him to believe me an eccentric millionaire. I told him that I expected a visitor, my friend, Sir Charles Venner, the great surgeon, at nine o'clock, and desired him to be shown up at once to my bedroom. After that he was all obsequiousness. I dined at the hotel, and to fortify myself for the fray I drank a small bottle of sparkling burgundy. At a quarter to nine I repaired to my room, which was situated near the first angle of the building on turning from the staircase, on the second floor. It was furnished in the ordinary style very plainly and simply. I quickly stripped the dressing-table of its contents and placed it in the middle floor. I set a chair on either side of the table, and I sat down upon the one that faced the door--which I had left unlatched--I then put on a pair of goggles and waited. Sir Charles Venner was praiseworthily punctual. Big Ben was still chiming the hour when I heard his tap on the panel. "Come in!" I cried. The handle turned and he entered, just pausing on the threshold to tip the waiter who had brought him up. "My dear old chap!" I exclaimed for the waiter's benefit, "this is good of you, as ever, punctual to the tick!" He closed the door carefully behind him, and advanced towards the table, pulling off his gloves as he did so. I, on the contrary, had been careful to keep my hands thickly gloved, for I wanted those keen eyes of his to have as few recognizing details as possible to remember, and hands are tell tale things, as I had proved sufficiently already. "I suppose I may be seated!" he began in steady tones.