"Will he by any chance have left his address at his private house?"
"We can see," said Brownlow. "He has no telephone, but I'll go myself."
"I will go with you," said Tidd. "You understand me, this is a matter of life and death—ruin—my wife—that woman, and the other one."
"I see, I see, I see," said Brownlow, taking his hat from its peg on the wall. "Come with me; we will find him if he is to be found."
He hurried out, followed by Mr. Tidd, and in Fleet Street he managed to get a taxi. They got into it and drove to King Charles Street.
There was a long pause after the knock, and then the door opened, disclosing Mrs. Jukes. Brownlow was known to her.
"Mrs. Jukes," said Brownlow, "can you give me Mr. Pettigrew's present address?"
"No, sir, I can't."
"He was called away, was he not?"