Half fearful of what I should hear, I went to the adjoining room and took up the receiver. Presently: "Hullo! Is that Mr. Addison?" came Gatton's voice. "Yes, speaking. What developments, Gatton?" "Several. I've got the report of the estate-agent and I've seen the stage-doorkeeper of the New Avenue! You mustn't write anything until I see you, but in order to regularize things a bit I've spoken to the Chief and formally asked his permission to consult you on the case--about the Egyptian figures, you know. He remembered you at once, so it's all square. But I've got a bone to pick with you." "What is that?" "Never mind now. Can you meet me at the Red House at five o'clock?" "Yes. I will be there." "Good. I don't hope for much. It's the strangest case I ever touched. We are dealing with unusual people, not ordinary criminals." "I agree." "If there is any man in London who can see daylight through the mystery I believe you are the man. Do you know on what I think the whole thing turns?" "On some undiscovered incident in Sir Marcus's past, beyond a doubt. Probably an amorous adventure." "You're wrong," said Gatton grimly. "It turns on the figure of the green cat. Good-by. Five o'clock." CHAPTER V THE INTERRUPTED SUPPER I arrived at the Red House before Inspector Gatton. A constable was on duty at the gate and as I came up and paused he regarded me rather doubtfully until I told him that I had an appointment with Gatton. I stared up the drive towards the house. It was not, apparently, a very old building, presenting some of the worst features of the mid-Victorian period, and from whence it derived its name I could not conjecture unless from the fact that the greater part of the facade was overgrown with some kind of red creeper. The half-moon formed by the crescent-shaped carriage-way and the wall bordering the road was filled with rather unkempt shrubbery, laurels and rhododendrons for the most part, from amid which arose several big trees. In the blaze of the afternoon sun the place looked commonplace enough with estate agents' bills pasted in the dirty windows, and it was difficult to conceive that it had been the scene of the mysterious crime of which at that hour all London was talking and which later was to form a subject of debate throughout the civilized world. Gatton joined me within a few minutes of my arrival. He was accompanied by Constable Bolton with whom I had first visited the Red House. Bolton was now in plain clothes, and he had that fish-out-of-water appearance which characterizes the constable in mufti. Indeed he looked rather dazed, and on arriving before the house he removed his bowler and mopped his red face with a large handkerchief, nodding to me as he did so. "Good afternoon, sir; it was lucky you came along with me last night. I thought it was a funny go and I was right, it seems." "Quite right," said Gatton shortly, "and now here are the keys which you returned to the depôt this morning."