When the stranger reached the High Street a motor-omnibus was just passing. He jumped on board, and the omnibus pursued its way. Hellier hailed the omnibus, but the conductor was not looking and it pursued its course. There was not a cab to be seen. If there had been, of what use could he have made of it? He had no warrant of arrest in his pocket. He had done mischief, if anything, for the stranger most probably had recognized the fact of the pursuit. This last was a bitter thought, for, in Hellier’s mind, lay the firm conviction that the stranger was Klein. He had seen the photograph of Klein. It was a face that once seen could not easily be forgotten. The likeness, at all events, was strong enough to have acted on. It is true, he had no warrant of arrest in his pocket; well, what of that? He told himself now that he should have acted instantaneously regardless of all consequences, pursued the stranger at full speed, called upon him to stop, raised the hue and cry, accused him of theft, even, done anything to get him safely into a police cell, whilst the Yard was being rung up and the central authorities communicated with. Of course, if the man had turned out to be not Klein, but some one else, he, Hellier, would have found himself in a very serious position. What of that? The future of the woman he loved was involved. _She_ would have forgiven him, and what did he care for all the rest of the world, for the sneers of the papers, the chaffing of his brother barristers, the fines or imprisonment that might have followed? He had lost a chance. The capacity to sum up a great situation, weigh everything and act instantaneously, is a gift possessed by not one man in a million, and the man that possesses it is generally a millionaire, a proved leader of armies, a captain of men. These thoughts were passing through Hellier’s mind as he walked slowly back along the High Street, casting about him for some means by which he might repair his blunder. He, at least, knew the house from which the stranger had come, and he felt that the best possible course to pursue was to find Freyberger and inform him of the occurrence. But where was the detective to be found? He might call at New Scotland Yard and try to interview him there, but that meant a loss of time. He knew that all the London police stations were telephonically connected with the Yard, and he determined to go to the nearest and state his case to the inspector on duty, asking him to communicate with the central authorities. The nearest station was that of High Street, Kensington, and he was just turning down the archway that leads to it when he almost cannoned against the man for whom he was seeking. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXX FREYBERGER had slept scarcely three hours during the night, yet he looked quite fresh. He had done a tremendous lot of work in the way of putting out nets.