The streets were newly washed. Indeed, the great thoroughfare was at that moment in the hands of the scavengers with their hoses and their squeegees. There would be no definite track here, and Tillizinni, after a search, saw sufficient evidence to show him which direction the car had taken. At Oxford Circus a policeman had seen it. It had turned eastward, and had gone straight along Oxford Street in the direction of Holborn. “Speed up!” said Tillizinni to the driver. “There’s just a chance they may have a puncture, and we may overtake them.” He rejoined the silent Talham in the cab. “I’ll never forgive myself,” said the big man. He sat with his hands clasped together, and his face set. “My dear chap, it’s not your fault.” Tillizinni laid his hand on the other’s shoulder. He had a genuine affection for this eccentric giant with his irrepressible oratory and his calm disregard for convention. “It’s a damned bracelet,” said Talham bitterly. “All the wealth and all the secrets of Ts’in are too inadequate compensation for one moment of misery she may suffer.” Tillizinni made no reply. Like a white light it suddenly dawned upon him that this man, the last man in the world that he would have imagined, was smitten with love. The tense agony in Talham’s voice, the attitude of absolute dejection--he sat huddled in a corner of the cab--spoke eloquently of his agony. At Holborn Bars a City policeman had seen a car passing swiftly eastward, and yet again, and farther on at the Mansion House, a patrolling sergeant was able to direct them toward Gracechurch Street. They lost the scent at Tower Hill. Two cars had come along at about the same moment, probably one from Eastcheap. One had crossed Tower Bridge and gone southward; the other had continued its way eastward. Unfortunately both had been of similar make. Tillizinni was in a dilemma. “We’ll take the east road,” he said, after a moment’s thought; “that is the more likely route.” A moment later the cab was following the trail of an empty car on its way to Harwich to meet the morning boat. CHAPTER X. THE ROOMS BY THE CANAL. Yvonne Yale had sat in silence during that mad rush through the City. Once in a frenzy of terror she had half risen to throw herself from the car. Instantly Soo’s hand grasped her. “When I tell you I will kill you, I mean it,” he said quickly. “Be quiet, and no harm will come to you. I tell you this, that I am merely holding you as a hostage for the recovery of the bangle. If I know your friend, he will not hesitate when he knows a woman is in danger.” His words reassured her somewhat. She had hardly dared to put her fears into words. The car swung round Tower Hill and slowed at the very spot where Tillizinni was destined to stop ten minutes later; but it did not go eastward, as Tillizinni had thought, but crossed the bridge, sped down the slope into Tooley Street, turned again, and followed the Deptford Road.