‘It may come in handy, or it may not,’ said Logan.  He then went off, and had Merton followed him he might not have been reassured.  For Logan first walked to a chemist’s shop, where he purchased a quantity of a certain drug.  Next he went to the fencing rooms which he frequented, took his fencing mask and glove, borrowed a fencing glove from a left-handed swordsman whom he knew, and drove to his rooms with this odd assortment of articles.  Having deposited them, he paid a call at the dwelling of a fair member of the Disentanglers, Miss Frere, the lady instructress in the culinary art, at the City and Suburban College of Cookery, whereof, as we have heard, Mr. Fulton, the eminent drysalter, was a patron and visitor.  Logan unfolded the case and his plan of campaign to Miss Frere, who listened with intelligent sympathy.

‘Do you know the man by sight?’ he asked.

’Oh yes, and he knows me perfectly well.  Last year he distributed the prizes at the City and Suburban School of Cookery, and paid me the most extraordinary compliments.’

‘Well deserved, I am confident,’ said Logan; ’and now you are sure that you know exactly what you have to do, as I have explained?’

’Yes, I am to be walking through Albany Grove at a quarter to four on Friday.’

‘Be punctual.’

‘You may rely on me,’ said Miss Frere.

Logan next day went to Trevor’s rooms in the Albany; he was the capitalist who had insisted on helping to finance the Disentanglers.  To Trevor he explained the situation, unfolded his plan, and asked leave to borrow his private hansom.

‘Delighted,’ said Trevor.  ’I’ll put on an old suit of tweeds, and a seedy bowler, and drive you myself.  It will be fun.  Or should we take my motor car?’

‘No, it attracts too much attention.’

’Suppose we put a number on my cab, and paint the wheels yellow, like pirates, you know, when they are disguising a captured ship.  It won’t do to look like a private cab.’

’These strike me as judicious precautions, Trevor, and worthy of your genius.  That is, if we are not caught.’

‘Oh, we won’t be caught,’ said Trevor.  ’But, in the meantime, let us find that place you mean to go to on a map of London, and I’ll drive you there now in a dog-cart.  It is better to know the lie of the land.’

Logan agreed and they drove to his objective in the afternoon; it was beyond the border of known West Hammersmith.  Trevor reconnoitred and made judicious notes of short cuts.

On the following day, which was Thursday, Logan had a difficult piece of diplomacy to execute.  He called at the rooms of the clergyman, a bachelor and a curate, whose dog and person had suffered from the assaults of Miss Blowser’s Siamese favourite.  He expected difficulties, for a good deal of ridicule, including Merton’s article, Christianos ad Leones, had been heaped on this martyr.  Logan looked forward to finding him crusty, but, after seeming a little puzzled, the holy man exclaimed, ‘Why, you must be Logan of Trinity?’