"You didn't ring me up about one o'clock this morning, did you?" I
inquired.
"No. Why?" he asked.
"Oh--well, nothing," I said. "I thought perhaps it might have been
you--that's all. What time shall you be in at White's?"
"About four. Will you be there?"
"Yes."
"Right-ho! Good-bye, old man," and he rang off.
I ascended to my room, changed my clothes, and made myself
respectable. But during the time I was dressing I reflected whether I
should go to Scotland Yard and relate my strange experience. Such
clever fiends as Reckitt and Forbes deserved punishment. What fearful
crimes had been committed in that weird, neglected house I dreaded to
think. My only hesitation, however, was caused by the thought that
perhaps Sylvia might be implicated. I felt somehow impelled to try and
solve the problem for myself. I had lost a thousand pounds. Yet had I
not fallen into that trap in utter disregard of Sylvia's warning?
Therefore, I resolved to keep my own counsel for the present, and to
make a few inquiries in order to satisfy my curiosity. So, putting on
a different suit, a different collar, and a soft felt hat which I
never wore, in a perhaps feeble attempt to transform myself from my
usual appearance, I went forth again.
My first visit was to the bank, where I saw the manager and explained
that the cheque had been stolen from my pocket, though I did not
expose the real facts. Then, after he had condoled with me upon my
loss, and offered to send the description of the thief to the police
at once, I re-entered the taxi, and drove back to Porchester Terrace,
alighting a short distance from Althorp House.