"Quite right," said Thorndyke, with a dry smile, "I was. Good-night."
We slunk down the lane, past the church, and through the gloomy cloisters, giving a wide berth to all lamps and lighted entries, until, emerging into Paper Buildings, we crossed at the darkest part to King's Bench Walk, where Thorndyke made straight for the chambers of our friend Anstey, which were two doors above our own.
"Why are we coming here?" I asked, as we ascended the stairs.
But the question needed no answer when we reached the landing, for through the open door of our friend's chambers I could see in the darkened room Anstey himself with two uniformed constables and a couple of plain-clothes men.
"There has been no signal yet, sir," said one of the latter, whom I recognized as a detective-sergeant of our division.
"No," said Thorndyke, "but the M.C. has arrived. He came in five minutes before us."
"Then," exclaimed Anstey, "the ball will open shortly, ladies and gents. The boards are waxed, the fiddlers are tuning up, and—"
"Not quite so loud, if you please, sir," said the sergeant. "I think there is somebody coming up Crown Office Row."
The ball had, in fact, opened. As we peered cautiously out of the open window, keeping well back in the darkened room, a stealthy figure crept out of the shadow, crossed the road, and stole noiselessly into the entry of Thorndyke's chambers. It was quickly followed by a second figure, and then by a third, in which I recognized our elusive client.
"Now listen for the signal," said Thorndyke. "They won't waste time. Confound that clock!"