“To-day, Baron?” “I do not remember to-day. I did dance so hard I was not perhaps distinct. But I shall go and see.” As Mr Bunker’s attempts to throw cold water on this scheme proved quite futile, he made a graceful virtue of necessity, dressed himself with care, and set out in the afternoon for the Park. They had only walked as far as Piccadilly Circus when in the crowd at the corner his eye fell upon a familiar figure. It was the burly, red-faced man. “The devil! Moggridge again!” he muttered. For a moment he thought they were going to pass unobserved: then the man turned his head their way, and Mr Bunker saw him start. He never looked over his shoulder, but after walking a little farther he called the Baron’s attention to a shop window, and they stopped to look at it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Moggridge about twenty yards behind them stopping too. He was glancing towards them very doubtfully. Evidently his mind was not yet made up, and at once Mr Bunker’s fertile brain began to revolve plans. A little farther on they paused before another window, and exactly the same thing happened. Then Mr Bunker made up his mind. He looked carefully at the cabs, and at last observed a smart-looking young man driving a fresh likely horse at a walking pace beside the pavement. He caught the driver’s eye and raised his stick, and turning suddenly to the Baron with a gesture of annoyance, exclaimed, “Forgive my rudeness, Baron, I’m afraid I must leave you. I had clean forgotten an important engagement in the city for this afternoon.” “Appointment in ze city?” said the Baron in considerable surprise. “I did not know you had friends in ze city.” “I have just heard from my father’s man of business, and I’m afraid it would be impolitic not to see him. Do you mind if I leave you here?” “Surely, my dear fellow, I vould not stop you. Already I feel at home by myself.” “Then we shall meet at the hotel before dinner. Good luck with the ladies, Baron.” Mr Bunker jumped into the cab, saying only to the driver, “To the city, as quick as you can.” “What part, sir?” “Oh, say the Bank. Hurry up!” Then as the man whipped up, Mr Bunker had a glimpse of Moggridge hailing another cab, and peeping cautiously through the little window at the back he saw him starting in hot pursuit. He took five shillings out of his pocket and opened the trap-door in the roof. “Do you see that other cab chasing us, with a red-faced man inside?” “Yes, sir.” Mr Bunker handed his driver the money. “Get rid of him, then. Take me anywhere through the city you like, and when he’s off the scent let me know.” “Very good, sir,” replied the driver, cracking his whip till his steed began to move past the buses and the other cabs like a train.