"Half a mind to give him a shout," he thought, but on reflection "I don't know though, he seems in the deuce of a hurry and I can't imagine he's any work to give away." It would have saved Cranbourne a lot of trouble if he had followed his first inclination. CHAPTER 6. CONCERNING A TIE. Not a word had been received from Cranbourne. From the moment he left Lord Almont's flat he disappeared completely. That was Cranbourne's way, for once an idea started in his brain he rested not until it has been realised or disproved. He had given himself three days to find a human duplicate of Barraclough and among a population of seven millions the task was no easy one. His quarry had dined at the Berkeley on the twenty-fourth instant but beyond that point information languished. The redoubtable Brown, prince of head waiters, who knew the affairs of most of his customers as intimately as his own, was able to offer little or no assistance. He remembered the gentleman who had dined alone in a tweed suit and had said something about having no dress clothes. He believed he had seen him in uniform during the earlier parts of the war but couldn't recall the regiment. Had an impression he paid for his dinner with the last of the notes in his pocket but that might mean nothing. "A pleasant gentleman, spoke crisply and had a smile." John, of the cloakroom, recalled a half crown thrown on his little counter in return for a soft hat--"Wait a bit, sir, by a Manchester hatter I believe," and a rainproof coat "rather thinnish and brown." The Manchester hat stuck in Cranbourne's throat a trifle since it widened the circle of enquiry. The porter at the revolving door believed the gentleman had gone toward Piccadilly--walking. Yes, he was sure he hadn't taken a cab. Gave him a shilling and five coppers.