“But didn’t you see it?” asked Talham in astonishment. “I saw an ingenious mask,” said the other. “I thought it was curious,” said Talham, “that a European could run as that man ran. He had that curious sideways waddle which only the Chinks have.” They were talking in the little warehouse, half filled with police now, and bright with light. Four Chinamen sat on the ground handcuffed together and philosophical. “I could have wished to capture the car,” said Tillizinni. “I might then have found its owner. Yet”--he turned a dazzling smile upon the girl--“we have succeeded in doing what we set out to accomplish.” She looked very white and shaky, and Talham was no less pale. “I am grateful this has turned out so well for me,” she said softly. Tillizinni explained how they had taken the wrong road, and how by great good fortune they had come upon the car they were chasing drawn up at a coffee stall, where the chauffeur was taking an early morning breakfast. They had got back to Tower Bridge, and picked up the trail with no difficulty, save that none had seen the car turn into the little street which runs by the side of the canal. Here, however, the two men had to do some quick guessing, and once in the little _cul de sac_, the hiding place had easily been located. Exactly how, he did not explain, but two hours later he was comparing the cigarette end which he had picked up outside of the warehouse with one Talham had found in Mr. de Costa’s study. “I don’t know whether this is enough to issue a warrant on,” he said. “It would be quite sufficient for the detective in fiction”--he smiled--“but unfortunately police magistrates have little imagination and no romance, and require something more substantial in the shape of evidence than the characteristics of Chinese tobacco.” * * * * * An ordinary man would have waited a day or two before he attempted to renew acquaintance with a woman whose charms had created so profound an impression upon him, and moreover, who had been responsible for so much mental suffering on the part of the woman whom he loved. But Talham was no ordinary man. He called the next day, and having no more idea of social conventions than a cow has of painting on silk, he chose a quarter to one in the afternoon as the hour. Mercifully, both Mrs. Yale and her daughter were indulging in the luxury of a day’s shopping, and Talham came back to Adelphi Terrace crestfallen, and sat moodily at the lunch table watching his host eat. Tillizinni expostulated with him. “It was absurd to call at an hour like that,” he said. “I thought they might ask me to lunch,” said Talham naïvely. He refused to eat anything for a little while, and then his healthy appetite overcame his desire for starving to death, with the result that the detective had to wait another three-quarters of an hour at the table whilst he fed, which annoyed him intensely. “Do you think if I called this afternoon----” he asked tentatively.