When all three were out of view Harrison Smith emerged from the Siddeley Saloon, glanced at his watch, thanked the salesman, said he would call again and passed out of the showrooms. On the pavement he halted and, like the three gentlemen who had occupied his attention, he too shook his head.
"They seem pretty well in the depths now," he reflected. "Wonder if
I'm making a fool of myself."
He would have wondered even more acutely had he seen Mr. Torrington straighten up and smile as the big ear turned into the Park through Stanhope Gate. Every trace of anguish had gone from the old man's face. To speak the truth he looked extremely well pleased with himself.
Harrison Smith walked slowly down Piccadilly debating in his mind whether or no he should abandon his investigations.
He stopped at the bottom of Clarges Street to allow a taxi, laden with luggage, to pass. The taxi had its cover down and inside he had a glimpse of a girl with a happy, smiling face. The girl was Isabel Irish and the brief glimpse decided him.
"One more cast," he said and jumped into an empty cab that was coming down the slope.
"Follow that chap in front," he cried. "The one with box on top.
Don't lose sight of him whatever happens."
He slammed the door and settled down on the cushions. Pursuer and pursued threaded their way through the traffic to Waterloo Station.