"Yes, he disappeared at the time of the Commune, and since then he is supposed to have been in Asia somewhere. He has quite a history, I believe, and at different times has been involved in several European complications. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he isn't our man. Mr. Sabin has rather the look of a man who has travelled in the East, and he is certainly an aristocrat." Wolfenden was suddenly thoughtful. "Harcutt would be very much interested in this," he declared. "What's up outside?" There had been a crash in the street, and the sound of a horse plunging; the two men walked to the windows. The _débris_ of a hansom was lying in the road, with one wheel hopelessly smashed, a few yards off. A man, covered with mud, rose slowly up from the wreck. Densham and Wolfenden simultaneously recognised him. "It is Felix," Wolfenden exclaimed. "Come on!" They both hurried out into the street. The driver of the hansom, who also was covered with mud, stood talking to Felix while staunching the blood from a wound in his forehead. "I'm very sorry, sir," he was saying, "I hope you'll remember as it was your orders to risk an accident, sooner than lose sight of t'other gent. Mine's a good 'oss, but what is he against a pair and a light brougham? and Piccadilly ain't the place for a chase of this sort! It'll cost me three pun ten, sir, to say nothing of the wheel----" Felix motioned him impatiently to be silent, and thrust a note into his hand. "If the damage comes to more than that," he said, "ask for me at the Russian Embassy, and I will pay it. Here is my card." Felix was preparing to enter another cab, but Wolfenden laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Won't you come into my club here, and have a wash?" he suggested. "I am afraid that you have cut your cheek." Felix raised his handkerchief to his face, and found it covered with blood. "Thank you, Lord Wolfenden," he said, "I should be glad to; you seem destined always to play the part of the Good Samaritan to me!" They both went with him into the lavatory. "Do you know," he asked Wolfenden, when he had sponged his face, "whom I was following?" Wolfenden shook his head. "Mr. Sabin?" he suggested. "Not Mr. Sabin himself," Felix answered, "but almost the same thing. It was Foo Cha, his Chinese servant who has just arrived in England. Have you any idea where Mr. Sabin is?" They both shook their heads. "I do not know," Wolfenden said, "but I am very anxious to find out. I have an account to settle with him!" "And I," Felix murmured in a low tone, "have a very much longer one against him. To-night, if I am not too late, there will be a balance struck between us! I have lost Foo Cha, but others, better skilled than I am, are in search of his master. They will succeed, too! They always succeed. What have you against him, Lord Wolfenden?" Wolfenden hesitated; yet why not tell the man the truth? He had nothing to gain by concealment.