With his ears alert for every sound, and his eyes peering anxiously into the veil of grey mist, Ellersby hurried along, managed to cross the street, and, by some miracle of dexterity which he placed at once to the credit of instinct, turned down St. James' Street, and it was here his first mishap occurred, for just as he rounded the corner he came against a young man hastening in the opposite direction at a rapid pace. "I beg your pardon," said the stranger quickly, "but the fog is so dense I could not see--excuse me." And he was about to hurry away, when Ellersby, recognising the voice, stopped him. "Wait a moment, Desmond," he said, gaily, "and give an old friend a word." Desmond seemed annoyed at being recognised, and looking sharply at the face of the other gave vent to an ejaculation of surprise, which, however, had not a very delighted ring in it. "Ellersby, by Jove!" he said in a hesitating manner, "I thought you were in Persia or in Patagonia. Who the deuce would have expected to see you in Piccadilly on such a devil of a night?" "I've been to a ball," explained Ellersby, "and thought I'd walk back to my hotel just to renew my acquaintance with London fogs. It was a mad freak, but amusing. Come to my hotel and have a nightcap." "Thanks, awfully," said Desmond, hurriedly, "but I can't. I'm--I'm in a hurry. Where are you stopping?" "Guelph Hotel, Jermyn Street." "Eh!" said Desmond, with a start. "Jermyn Street--all right, look you up to-morrow." "Wait a moment," observed Ellersby, detaining him. "Tell me, where is Calliston? I want to see him." "Not much chance," replied Desmond, shaking his head, "he's--gone off to-night down to Shoreham--yachting, you know. Wants to go to the Azores; well, see you to-morrow; good-night--I'm in a deuce of a hurry." He spoke rapidly, with nervous agitation quite at variance with his usual demeanour, as Ellersby knew, and as he went off quickly and was swallowed up by the fog, the latter resumed his walk with a quiet laugh. "A woman, I bet," he said to himself as he made his way cautiously along. "Fancy Venus on such a discouraging night as this--the rosy mists enveloping the goddess are charming, but a London fog--ah, bah!" He stood on the pavement, wondering how he could strike Jermyn Street, and was about to attempt to cross on the chance of his luck guiding him, when suddenly the tall form of a policeman loomed out of the fog and flashed the bright light of a lantern on him. "Ah, just in time, policeman," said Ellersby in a relieved tone. "I've got slightly astray in this fog, so you must guide me to the Guelph Hotel." "Just across the street, sir," replied the policeman, touching his helmet, and he stepped off the pavement, followed by Ellersby.