“It was not my fault, for I could not stop the omnibus and there were no cabs.” “It does not in the least matter,” said Freyberger, in a tone of assumed indifference, “for it was a thousand to one you were mistaken.” “If that is your opinion,” said Hellier, angry at the other’s tone, “there is no use in our discussing the matter further. I wish you good day.” “Stay a moment,” said Freyberger. “Yes.” “You say you saw this man coming out of a certain house. Can you recognize the house again?” “Yes.” “Well, as a matter of form, I will accompany you there.” Hellier hesitated a moment, then he conquered his sense of pique and turned in the direction of Hammersmith. They walked, scarcely exchanging a word. Freyberger’s mind was filled with anxiety, expectancy and a sense of deep irritation. There was something exasperating to him about Hellier. This outsider had already cast so much light on the case; was it destined that he should cast more? “This is the house,” said Hellier, when they had reached the place. “Empty,” replied Freyberger, looking over the railings. It was the only detached residence in the road, all the other houses were semi-detached. The garden was neglected and the front windows blindless and dusty. Freyberger opened the gate and, followed by Hellier, walked up the path to the front door. He knocked and rang, but there was no reply. “Let’s try the back,” said Freyberger; “some people live in the back premises and only keep a hall door for ornament.” But no one, apparently, lived in the back premises of No. 18 St Ann’s Road. A glassed-in verandah ran along the whole of the back. Freyberger tried the verandah door, it was locked. Some green shelves, containing a few empty flower-pots, were visible; against one of the shelves stood a hoe, on the blade of the hoe some dark brown traces of earth proclaimed to the eye of the detective that the instrument had been used quite recently, and not for hoeing but for digging. “There is no one here,” said Freyberger. “No one now,” replied Hellier, “but there has been some one.” “Oh, yes, no doubt; one might say the same of Sodom and Gomorrah, or Pompeii.” “If Klein has been here, if this is one of his hiding places, he may come back.” “If,” replied Freyberger. They were walking back down the garden path. At the gate Hellier made one last attempt to infect the detective with his own idea. “Could you not get a search warrant and search the place?” This remark completely broke Freyberger’s temper down, and the German came out. “Search warrant! You talk like a child, not like a man. Warrant to search for what? Flower-pots? What I will do in the case I will do. I wish for no interference. I wish you good day.” He turned to the left, towards Malpas Road. Hellier to the right. “Fool,” thought Hellier, “pig-headed ass; no matter—wait.” “Swine-hound,” thought Freyberger; “directing _me_ what to do! Search warrant!”