"Things are getting altogether too one-sided," objected Marsden. "Can't you think of a little service we could do for you, doctor, just by way of a change?" Colin was on the point of making some laughing disclaimer, when an idea suddenly occurred to him. "Would it be a lot of trouble to get me some information about a man I was introduced to the other day?" he asked. "Not a bit," replied Marsden. "What's his name?" "Fenton," said Colin. "Major Fenton. He's a chap of about forty-five, tall, clean-shaven, with rather a red face. All I know about him is that he has been a long time abroad, and that at present he is living in London and drives a Daimler car. It's only a matter of personal curiosity, but if you could find out who he is and what sort of reputation he has I should be uncommonly grateful." Marsden jotted down the particulars and folded up the paper. "That ought to be simple enough," he replied. "I'll hand this over to Ainsworth, who's in charge of all that kind of thing, and if you look us up in about a week we shall probably be able to give you the gentleman's life history." Colin expressed his thanks, and, having shaken hands with each of them in turn, made his way back down the staircase and out into the main courtyard. Resuming his journey eastward, he followed the Embankment as far as Blackfriars Bridge, where he struck off through a maze of side streets, which eventually brought him out close to the grimy and retired tavern presided over by Mr. Higgins. The yard door was open, and a glance inside revealed the burly outline of the proprietor himself, engaged in the domestic task of washing his bull terrier. On hearing the car he paused in his operations and signalled to Colin to enter. "Bring 'er along in, mister," he called out. "Bring 'er along in, an' look out for that bleedin' bucket." Carrying out these instructions successfully, Colin jerked forward over the cobblestones until he came to a halt alongside the seated figure. "Pleased to see yer," continued Mr. Higgins, in a hospitable tone. "Quite a time since you was 'ere last, ain't it?" "It's getting on for a month," admitted Colin, as he clambered out of the car. "In fact I've not been since the night I brought Miss Seymour." At the mention of Nancy's name the landlord's mottled face wreathed itself into a smile. "Didn't know then that you was goin' to leave 'er be'ind yer," he observed jocularly. "Thought you'd give us a kind of pleasant surprise, eh, guv'nor?" "That was the idea," replied Colin. "I was just going to ask you if you'd seen anything of her." "I done more than that," was the proud rejoinder; "I've 'ad a talk with 'er, I 'ave. I 'appened to be outside when she come by last Thursday, an' she stopped and chatted away as friendly as kiss me 'and. Ah, she's one o' the right sort, she is; no blarsted frills nor nonsense about 'er."