"Piccadilly Circus," I blurted out. It was the first place that came into my head. He stared at me, and then something like a look of sympathy crept into his face. "Ar!" he said. "Git in." For about three minutes after the taxi started neither of us spoke. Then Bruce broke the silence. "Well," he said, "d'you believe it now?" I turned on him angrily. "Look here," I cried, "don't talk blithering rot! The thing's impossible! You know it as well as I do!" He shook his head. "Well, what about Mrs. Jones?" he said obstinately. "Mrs. Jones," I repeated, "is the victim of the same disease that you're suffering from--common or garden hysteria. No doubt she was listening at the door, and overheard your tomfool nonsense with that ridiculous monkey. Being a highly strung, passionate sort of woman----" Bruce cut me short. "Jones," he said, "is always complaining that she's too cold." "Cold!" I groaned. "Oh, Lord!" "So it couldn't be that," he added. "Well, if it isn't that," I said, "what the blazes is it? You don't seriously expect me to believe in black magic and Mumbo Jumbo and all that sort of bunkum, do you?" Bruce scratched his ear. "I don't know," he said unhappily. We sat in silence as the cab ran on, each of us staring out of the window on our respective sides. It was not until we were halfway up Tottenham Court Road that I suddenly noticed the time. There was a big clock outside one of the furniture shops, and the hands were pointing to half-past two. I called Bruce's attention to the fact. "Cynthia won't have finished her lunch yet," I said. "We had better get out at Piccadilly Circus and walk up. Or perhaps you'd rather go alone?" "No," he answered eagerly; "I want you to come. You needn't stay, you know, but I'd like you just to come and see what happens." "All right," I said, with a laugh. "I may as well see you through now I've begun. If Cynthia starts embracing you, I'll leave the room." "Oh, don't joke about it!" said Bruce nervously. The cab swerved its way through the traffic in Piccadilly Circus, and drew up with a jerk opposite Swan and Edgar's. We got out, and I handed the man a sovereign which I had ready. He took it with a friendly smile. "Thank ye, sir," he said, "an' good luck." "It's my cab," said Bruce, as we turned into Regent Street. "Very well," I answered, "we won't fight about it. You can pay me as soon as your green monkey pushes along those six millions." By this time we were just opposite the entrance to the Piccadilly Hotel. As we passed, the door swung open, and a handsome woman, dressed in a long sable cloak, stepped out on to the pavement. In the roadway opposite, a liveried manservant was holding open the door of a smart electric brougham. At the sight of us she paused, and her lips parted in one of the sweetest smiles I have ever seen. We both took off our hats, but as Bruce made no attempt to stop I walked on with him. "Who is she?" I whispered. He stared at me.