On the following afternoon I arrived in London and drove straight to Rivermead Mansions. I entered with my latchkey, and on glancing around saw signs that my friend Hambledon was still living there. The fire in the sitting-room had been lit by the “Kaiserin” ready for his home-coming, and everything seemed bright and cosy.
It was then about four o’clock, and Hambledon would certainly not return till six. Therefore after a good wash, a shave, and a clean collar, I set forth for Stretton Street to interview Oswald De Gex.
The house in the dusk was just as I recollected it on that eventful night when I was so unexpectedly called inside.
I rang the bell three times, until at last the door opened and a tall, stalwart man appeared.
I inquired for Mr. De Gex, whereupon he replied:
“Mr. De Gex is in Italy, sir.”
“Oh! When did he leave town?”
“About a month ago, sir,” the man answered.
“You are, I suppose, the caretaker?” I asked. “Now, I wonder if you will do me a very great favour. You may think me a thief or a burglar,” I laughed, “but the fact is I have a great desire to see Mr. De Gex’s house. I’ve heard so much about its beauties. I wonder if you would show me the drawing-room and the library?”