He had lost a chance.
The capacity to sum up a great situation, weigh everything and act instantaneously, is a gift possessed by not one man in a million, and the man that possesses it is generally a millionaire, a proved leader of armies, a captain of men.
These thoughts were passing through Hellier’s mind as he walked slowly back along the High Street, casting about him for some means by which he might repair his blunder.
He, at least, knew the house from which the stranger had come, and he felt that the best possible course to pursue was to find Freyberger and inform him of the occurrence.
But where was the detective to be found?
He might call at New Scotland Yard and try to interview him there, but that meant a loss of time. He knew that all the London police stations were telephonically connected with the Yard, and he determined to go to the nearest and state his case to the inspector on duty, asking him to communicate with the central authorities.
The nearest station was that of High Street, Kensington, and he was just turning down the archway that leads to it when he almost cannoned against the man for whom he was seeking.
CHAPTER XXX
FREYBERGER had slept scarcely three hours during the night, yet he looked quite fresh.