He was too perturbed to sit for long, for, truth to tell, his thoughts were not pleasant company. Two or three times he got up and paced the room, with a noiseless stealthy tread that was characteristic of him. Then, tired of the monotony of waiting, he selected a book from the limited store in a small revolving bookcase, and tried to read. But the words danced before his unquiet eyes, and conveyed no meaning. Again and again he had to resort to his noiseless pacings of the thickly-carpeted room, to allay the tedium of waiting. But the slow minutes passed at last. He drew out his watch, noted the time, and drew a sigh of relief. It was one-thirty a.m. "He can't be long now," he muttered. "At this hour of the night he can put on any speed he likes. He's an obstinate devil, but he would be pretty sure to start straight away, after my urgent summons." Even as he spoke, the figure of a man in a motor-cap and heavy overcoat was stealing quietly along Ryder Street. A moment more, and footsteps were heard on the stairs. Farloe hastened to open the hall-door of his cosy little suite, and closed it noiselessly after the entrance of his visitor. They nodded to each other. The man advanced, and stood under the electric light suspended from the middle of the ceiling. He was of medium height, well-dressed, and of gentlemanly appearance. He had aquiline features, and piercing dark eyes. He was the man who had been identified by Davies the driver as one of the two who had put the dying man in his taxi at Dean's Yard, with instructions to drive him to Chesterfield Street--the man known to the police, through the information given by Mrs Saxton, by the name of Stent. They did not waste time in preliminary remarks or greetings; they were probably too old acquaintances to indulge in such trivial formalities, but proceeded to business at once. "So she got clear away?" remarked the man known as Stent. "I always said she was one of the smartest women in England. How did she outwit the detective?" Farloe smiled. "It was beautifully simple," he replied. "She 'phoned me up in the morning to say she was starting in a few moments, and that she was sure this fellow would hang on to her as long as he could. She asked me if I could suggest any way of outwitting him. At the moment I couldn't." Stent darted a glance at his companion which was not exactly one of appreciation. "Your sister is quicker at that sort of thing than you," he said briefly. Farloe did not appear to notice the slight conveyed in the words and tone, and went on in his smooth voice: "I expect so. Anyway, she had it cut and dried. She was going to lead him a nice little dance till it was time to get rid of him. She would take him down to Piccadilly Circus, trot him about there for some little time, and then get back to the Knightsbridge Tube Station." "Yes--and then?"