Ask any official at Scotland Yard, and what he will reveal to you regarding this will surely astound you.
Sitting with Winsloe and listening to his clever chatter I was rather amused than otherwise. Inwardly I laughed at his shrewd but futile efforts to obtain from me something concerning Tibbie.
We smoked a cigar, and about ten o’clock strolled along to the Empire, where we took a turn round the crowded grand circle. Variety performances, however, possess but little attraction for me, and we soon went out again. In the vestibule a fair-moustached, bald-headed man in evening dress greeted my companion effusively, exclaiming,—
“Why, Ellice—actually! My dear old fellow, how are you?—how are you?” and he wrung his hand in warmest greeting.
“And you, Sidney! Who’d ever thought of finding you in town again? Why, I thought you were still somewhere up the Zambesi.”
“Got back yesterday, my dear fellow. And not sorry either, I can tell you. The surveying for the new railroad was a far tougher job than I anticipated. I went down with fever, so they sent me home on six months’ leave.”
“But you’re all right now,” Winsloe said, and then introduced his friend as Sidney Humphreys who, he explained, had been out in Africa in connection with the Cape to Cairo railway.
“Where are you fellows going?” asked the newcomer.
“Home, I think,” Winsloe replied. “Hughes doesn’t care for ballets.”
“Come round to my rooms and see the curios I’ve brought back,” he urged. “I’ve still kept on the old chambers. The things I’ve got were mostly dug out of the ruins of an ancient city—relics of the time of King Solomon, I believe. You’re fond of antiques, Ellice, so come and spend an hour and have a look at them. You’ll be interested, I promise you, and I’d like to know your opinion.”