Leaping to his feet, he almost ran to the cab-rank at Hyde Park corner, and, hiring a taxicab, ordered the man to make the best speed possible to Laburnum Road. The man did his best, and in some twenty minutes' time the taxicab entered the little _cul-de-sac_, the features of which Westerham was now beginning to know too well. He rang the bell impatiently, but the door in the wall failed to open. He rang again and again, but there was no response. The driver of the taxicab surveyed his fare with some distrust. “It seems to me, sir,” he said, “that your friends are not at home.” Westerham's answer sounded very much like an oath. He gave one final pull to the bell, and finding even that last rough summons ineffectual, turned to the man. “Look here,” he said, “this may seem a rather curious business to you, but if you will help me I will pay you well. I am not at all sure that this house is as empty as it seems. Put your cab alongside the wall so that I can climb over the top. I want to go investigating.” The man grumbled something to the effect that it was not his business, but the sight of the magnificent inducement which Westerham immediately offered him silenced his objections. Westerham climbed to the top of the cab and dropped over the wall into the garden. He walked round the house and found it shuttered, dark and silent. He whistled a long whistle to himself. “I wonder,” he thought, “if the birds have flown. I wonder if they have chucked up the sponge. I wonder——” A second thought, however, which occurred to him, as he proceeded to climb over the garden wall again, was that it was much more likely that the house had been closed that evening in order that he might be cut off from all sources of information. On further reflection, indeed, he came to the conclusion that this was certainly the case. “But perhaps you imagine,” he thought, mentally addressing Melun, “perhaps you imagine that I shall not come back. We will see.” It was then nearly eleven o'clock, and Westerham had no course but to return to the Buckingham Palace Hotel, out of which he had rushed without bag or baggage on the night before. There he was greeted civilly, but by no means with effusion. Lord Dunton's visit on the previous afternoon had set a certain cachet on his respectability, but at the same time his erratic movements did not meet with the managerial approval. On the following morning he sought out Dunton, who told him that for the moment Lord Cuckfield and Mendip would be silent. Unfortunately, Westerham's promise to Lady Kathleen prevented his telling Dunton over much. But fortunately Dunton, in spite of his apparent vacuity, had both the good sense and the good manners never to be over curious. Twice during the afternoon Westerham took a cab to Laburnum Road, and on the second occasion his peal at the bell was answered by the maid he had seen on his previous visit.