“They are rather touchy about their privacy, and they are apt actively to resent intrusion. I should leave them alone. Personally, I dislike fuss of every description, but especially the kind of fuss which hurts physically.” Then he caught a slight sneer on Westerham's mouth and reddened a little. He reddened still more when the baronet said shortly, “I thought so.” Melun's composure, however, returned to him almost instantly. “Come, come,” he said, “it is foolish to be nasty to your friends. We all have our little failings. I have mine. Yours, it seems, is rashness; mine may be timidity. It is purely a question of constitution.” “Constitution,” said Westerham, grimly, “is largely a question of degrees of force. On this occasion I think that force will win. Please understand me distinctly that, however rash you may think me, however foolish my haste may appear, I am determined to see the rest of your organisation without further delay.” Melun shrugged his shoulders. “So be it,” he said; “we shall want a couple of caps, and you will have to turn your collar up. Not even the comparatively humble bowler is particularly acceptable in Limehouse.” “Limehouse!” exclaimed Westerham. And he smiled a pleased little smile to himself. Events were developing themselves in a sufficiently melodramatic way to be entertaining. “Limehouse,” he said again. “I was there yesterday.” Melun drew in his breath sharply and bared his teeth in an unpleasant snarl. “Have you been spying?” he asked coarsely. “I don't spy,” said Westerham, coldly. And that was sufficient. The two men ate a rather gloomy dinner in the small hotel. Conversation lagged, for as yet they had not much in common. Each of them, however, from a different point of view, was soon to have far too much in common with the other. Towards eight o'clock Melun rose and suggested that they should be going. Westerham provided him with a cap, and having pulled their coat collars about their ears, they climbed on board one of the Blackwall motor omnibuses. On this they travelled as far as Leman Street, where Melun descended from the omnibus roof. Westerham followed at his heels. They then took a tram, and for what seemed to Westerham an interminable time they travelled slowly eastward along the Commercial Road. Presently a great white tower threw into greater blackness the surrounding black of the murky sky. Westerham, as the result of his recent experiences in the East End, knew the tower to be that of Limehouse church. Here they again alighted, and Melun walked quickly down that curious street which is known as Limehouse Cut. Gas lamps standing at long intervals threw a very feeble and flickering light upon the small, low-built shops which traverse its western side. The light, however, was sufficient to show the curious hieroglyphics which proclaimed the tenants of those shops to be Chinese.