Now Brook Street at that hour is undecided between a state of coma and one of glittering abandon; which means that the deathly silence is every now and then shattered by rich automobiles hurling themselves and lovely ladies all covered in pearls and chrysoprase into the bosom of Grosvenor Square. Claridge’s, of course, has music, so that youth may dance. But of pedestrians along Brook Street there are less than a few ... and of young men in gents’ evening wear running furiously after limousines there is a noticeable scarcity. He simply tore past us, that young man, in the middle of the road, a few yards behind a swiftly going car. The car stopped towards Grosvenor Square, and somehow the young man seemed to disappear. We were more than fifty yards away, and could not determine whether it was a man or a woman who emerged from the car and entered the house, but it looked like a fat little man. Then the car slid away. The pursuing young man had disappeared. “He can’t have been doing it for fun,” said Tarlyon. “Perhaps he’s gone to have a bath,” I suggested. For it was a very warm night, and running after motor-cars must have been a wet business. “We’ll see,” said Tarlyon. We retraced our steps up Brook Street, and passed the house into which the occupant of the car had disappeared. It was a house like another, dark and silent; and as it stood almost at the corner we went round the corner into Grosvenor Square; at least, we were rounding the corner when a young man in a great hurry collided into us. “Ah!” said Tarlyon. “Sorry,” said the stranger. I was right about the running--it had made his face very wet. “So it’s you!” said Tarlyon. “Good-evening, gentlemen,” said the Armenian, with a sort of furious courtesy. “If you will excuse me, I am in a hurry.” He made to pass us. “We noticed it,” said Tarlyon. “In fact, we noticed nothing else.” “Damn!” snapped the Armenian. “So you saw me running?” “So did he,” I murmured, looking up Brook Street. A policeman was sauntering towards us. “If you don’t want to be asked any questions by the arm of the law,” Tarlyon suggested, “you had better take a turn round the square with us.” “I won’t move,” the stranger muttered passionately. “I have found him at last--I won’t move.” “But neither will he,” I soothed him. “He’s gone into the house....” “Did you see him go in?” We nodded. “Ah, but His Excellency is clever!” said the Armenian viciously. We grabbed hold of him and hauled him round the square. “Now,” said Tarlyon, “what’s all this Excellency nonsense?” “_He_ doesn’t think it’s nonsense,” the young man muttered grimly. “Look here,” I said, “either this is a plot or it is not a plot. In either case you’ll look rather an idiot, so----” “You’d better confide in us,” Tarlyon finished. “We, being English, have great sympathy with oppressed peoples----” “I have noticed it,” said the Armenian grimly. He was obviously a well-educated young man.