"Well, if you can manage it," I said, "you might ring up these people and make an appointment for me. Any time after twelve will do."
He took the wire and stuffed it away in his pocket.
"Leave it to me, my lad," he said. "I'll see they have a red carpet down for you all right."
I passed on through the jostling crowd of passengers, and, going down below, proceeded to lend a hand in the various formalities which attend the arrival of an incoming vessel. This process must have occupied the best part of an hour, and by the time I was free Ross had got through his business and returned to the ship. I came across him at the entrance to the smoking-room, where he was squatting peacefully on an upturned cabin trunk.
"It's all right about your appointment," he observed. "Half past twelve's the time, and you can take it from me that you're on a red hot winner. They nearly fell down when I mentioned your name.
"You're a fine liar, Ross," I said sceptically, "but I'm much obliged to you all the same."
By eleven o'clock we had got everything cleared up, and, as my services were no longer required, I went down to my cabin to change into shore-going kit. On my way I met the stewardess to whom I had entrusted my note for Miss de Roda. In reply to my enquiry she informed me that it had been safely delivered, but that the "young lady" had left the ship without giving her any message or answer. This, however, was only what I had expected, so I was able to accept the news with becoming fortitude.
The rain was still falling heavily when I set foot on the dock, but a pleasant tingle of excitement over my approaching interview lifted me above the consideration of such trifles. I made my way to the nearest underground station, and established myself in the corner of a first-class smoker in company with an excellent cigar on which I had omitted to pay duty. I felt that on such a critical occasion a little extravagance was distinctly permissible.
On reaching the Temple I changed into a taxi, and instructed the driver to take me to the address which Messrs. Wilmot and Drayton had given me. It was a slow journey, for the Strand and Chancery Lane were both under repair, as usual, a state of affairs which necessitated frequent and abrupt stoppages. At last, however, we managed to worm a passage across Holborn, and a few minutes later we swung round the corner into the sedate and peaceful atmosphere of Bedford Row.
No. 117 was the last house in the street—a large, old-fashioned Georgian building, that seemed to breathe out a reassuring air of comfortable respectability. I threw away the stump of my cigar, and, getting out on to the pavement, handed the driver his fare. As I did so, or rather, as I turned towards the house, I suddenly caught sight of a man who was leaning up against the railings a few yards farther on. Under ordinary circumstances I don't suppose I should have given him a second glance, but there was something in his manner—some curious suggestion of a furtive interest in my movements—which at once attracted my attention. Not being handicapped by any natural shyness, I stopped where I was and had a good square look at him. He was not what you would call an attractive individual, and any faint claims to beauty he might once have possessed had been seriously marred by a broken nose, which even at that distance was distinctly visible.