Afterwards we stood outside on the curb, still talking, I loth to part from him, when there passed by in the shadow two men in dark overcoats, who crossed the road behind us to the front of Charing Cross station, and then continued on towards Trafalgar Square.

As the light of the street lamp fell upon them, I thought I recognized the face of one as that of a person I had seen before, yet I was not at all certain, and my failure to remember whom the passer-by resembled prevented me from saying anything further to Jack than: 

“A fellow I know has just gone by, I think.”

“We seem to be meeting hosts of friends to-night,” he laughed.  “After all, old chap, it does one good to come back to our dear, dirty old town again.  We abuse it when we are here, and talk of the life in Paris, and Vienna, and Brussels, but when we are away there is no place on earth so dear to us, for it is ‘home.’  But there!” he laughed, “I’m actually growing romantic.  Ah! if we could only find Muriel!  But we must to-morrow.  Ta-ta!  I shall go around to the club and sleep, for I haven’t fixed on any diggings yet.  Come in at ten to-morrow, and we will decide upon some plan.  One thing is plainly certain; Elma must at once be got out of Russia.  She’s in deadly peril of her life there.”

“Yes,” I said.  “And you will help me?”

“With all my heart, old fellow,” answered my friend, warmly grasping my hand, and then we parted, he strolling along towards the National Gallery on his way back to the “Junior,” while I returned to the Cecil alone.

CHAPTER XVI

MARKED MEN

“Captain Durnford?” I inquired of the hall-porter of the club next morning.

“Not here, sir.”

“But he slept here last night,” I remarked.  “I have an appointment with him.”

The man consulted the big book before him, and answered: 

“Captain Durnford went out at 9:27 last night, sir, but has not returned.”

Strange, I thought, but although I waited in the club nearly an hour, he did not put in an appearance.  I called again at noon, and he had not come in, and again at two o’clock, but he had not even then made his appearance.  Then I began to be anxious.  I returned to the hotel, resolved to wait for a few hours longer.  He might have altered his mind and gone to Eastbourne in search of Muriel; yet, had he done so, he would surely have telegraphed to me.

About four o’clock, as I was passing through the big hall of the hotel, I heard a voice behind me utter a greeting in Italian, and turning in surprise, found Olinto, dressed in his best suit of black, standing hat in hand.

In an instant I recollected what Jack had told me, and regarded him with some suspicion.

“Signor Commendatore,” he said in a low voice, as though fearing to be overheard, “may I be permitted to speak in private with you?”