“Yes,” said Thorndyke, “that seems a good plan.  I will walk with you and see that you get a fair start.”

We walked briskly along the lane and through Ravensden Street to the Kennington Park Road.  An omnibus was approaching from the south at a steady jog-trot and we halted at the corner to wait for it.  Several people passed us in different directions, but none seemed to take any particular notice of us, though we observed them rather narrowly, especially the women.  Then the omnibus crawled up.  I sprang on the foot-board and ascended to the roof, where I seated myself and surveyed the prospect to the rear.  No one else got on the omnibus—­which had not stopped—­and no cab or other passenger vehicle was in sight.  I continued to watch Thorndyke as he stood sentinel at the corner, and noted that no one appeared to be making any effort to overtake the omnibus.  Presently my colleague waved his hand to me and turned back towards Vauxhall, and I, having satisfied myself once more that no pursuing cab or hurrying foot-passenger was in sight, decided that our precautions had been unnecessary and settled myself in a rather more comfortable position.

Chapter X

The Hunter Hunted

The omnibus of those days was a leisurely vehicle.  Its ordinary pace was a rather sluggish trot, and in a thickly populated thoroughfare its speed was further reduced by frequent stoppages.  Bearing these facts in mind, I gave an occasional backward glance as we jogged northward, though my attention soon began to wander from the rather remote possibility of pursuit to the incidents of our late exploration.

It had not been difficult to see that Thorndyke was very well pleased with the results of our search, but excepting the letter—­which undoubtedly opened up a channel for further inquiry and possible identification—­I could not perceive that any of the traces that we had found justified his satisfaction.  There were the spectacles, for instance.  They were almost certainly the pair worn by Mr. Graves.  But what then?  It was exceedingly improbable that we should be able to discover the maker of them, and if we were, it was still more improbable that he would be able to give us any information that would help us.  Spectacle-makers are not usually on confidential terms with their customers.

As to the other objects, I could make nothing of them.  The little sticks of reed evidently had some use that was known to Thorndyke and furnished, by inference, some kind of information about Weiss, Graves, or Mrs. Schallibaum.  But I had never seen anything like them before and they conveyed nothing whatever to me.  Then the bottle that had seemed so significant to Thorndyke was to me quite uninforming.  It did, indeed, suggest that some member of the household might be connected with the stage, but it gave no hint as to which one.  Certainly that person was not Mr. Weiss, whose appearance was as remote from that of an actor as could well be imagined.  At any rate, the bottle and its label gave me no more useful hint than it might be worth while to call on Mr. Fox and make inquiries; and something told me very emphatically that this was not what it had conveyed to Thorndyke.