But Gerard was more convinced than ever that this innocent-looking young man was a person to be watched; and, resolved to see what became of him that night, he found an opportunity of asking Sir William where he was going to set his companion down. The baronet named a well-known sporting club. Arthur Aldington was calling Gerard to get into his car, and in a few minutes they were on the road again. Gerard had made his plans, and, as his friend had offered to take him back to his chambers in town, he could reckon upon being in time for what he wanted to do, if only the big car were delayed sufficiently to give the little one a good start. Things turned out as he wished. He and Arthur got to town before Sir William; and Gerard went straight to the neighborhood of the club where Cecil Jones was to be set down, and was able to conceal himself in the entrance of a block of flats on the opposite side of the road. Here he waited for nearly half an hour, afraid he had missed his man. At last, however, he saw Sir William Gurdon’s big motor-car coming up the street, and a few moments later it stopped at the door of the club, and Cecil Jones got out, shook hands with Sir William, and went into the building. The motor-car drove away, and Gerard remained on the watch. Not for more than half an hour, for at the end of that time Cecil Jones came out of the club building, and hailing a hansom, got in and drove off, giving a direction to the cabman which Gerard could not hear. But he was far too much interested in what became of Jones to let the matter rest like that. So he hailed a hansom in his turn, told the driver to follow the vehicle before him, and continued the chase until Jones’ hansom stopped in one of the streets off Charing Cross Road. Here Cecil Jones got out, paid the cabman, and disappeared from sight most mysteriously. Although Gerard was watching keenly, he was unable to tell exactly at what point his quarry had disappeared. The street was rather dark at this point, and there was a court, as well as the openings into doorways, to be examined. Cecil Jones’ hansom drove away, and Gerard paid his own cabman and got down to continue his pursuit on foot, but in vain. Jones had disappeared as completely as if the earth had swallowed him up. Gerard looked upon this circumstance as not merely suspicious, but as confirming his own belief that Jones, instead of being the innocent and mild-eyed victim of expert gamesters that he had pretended to be, was really a confederate of these Americans, if they were swindlers, or a swindler who intended, in the future, to make money out of the boastful Denver, and who began by posing as a harmless dupe or beginner, in order to take the American off his guard.