“Tell the cab feller to drive to the north side of Wandsworth Common,” said a woman’s voice—­a voice speaking in broken English, a voice which electrified me, had me alert and watchful in a moment.

I turned, as the speaker, entering a taxi-cab that was drawn up by the pavement, gave these directions to the door-porter, who with open umbrella was in attendance.  Just one glimpse I had of her as she stepped into the cab, but it was sufficient.  Indeed, the voice had been sufficient; but that sinuous shape and that lithe swaying movement of the hips removed all doubt.

It was Zarmi!

As the cab moved off I ran out into the middle of the road, where there was a rank, and sprang into the first taxi waiting there.

“Follow the cab ahead!” I cried to the man, my voice quivering with excitement.  “Look! you can see the number!  There can be no mistake.  But don’t lose it for your life!  It’s worth a sovereign to you!”

The man, warming to my mood, cranked his engine rapidly and sprang to the wheel.  I was wild with excitement now, and fearful lest the cab ahead should have disappeared; but fortune seemingly was with me for once, and I was not twenty yards behind when Zarmi’s cab turned the first corner ahead.  Through the gloomy street, which appeared to be populated solely by streaming umbrellas, we went.  I could scarcely keep my seat; every nerve in my body seemed to be dancing—­twitching.  Eternally I was peering ahead; and when, leaving the well-lighted West End thoroughfares, we came to the comparatively gloomy streets of the suburbs, a hundred times I thought we had lost the track.  But always in the pool of light cast by some friendly lamp, I would see the quarry again speeding on before us.

At a lonely spot bordering the common the vehicle which contained Zarmi stopped.  I snatched up the speaking-tube.

“Drive on,” I cried, “and pull up somewhere beyond!  Not too far!”

The man obeyed, and presently I found myself standing in what was now become a steady downpour, looking back at the headlights of the other cab.  I gave the driver his promised reward.

“Wait for ten minutes,” I directed; “then if I have not returned, you need wait no longer.”

I strode along the muddy, unpaved path, to the spot where the cab, now discharged, was being slowly backed away into the road.  The figure of Zarmi, unmistakable by reason of the lithe carriage, was crossing in the direction of a path which seemingly led across the common.  I followed at a discreet distance.  Realizing the tremendous potentialities of this rencontre I seemed to rise to the occasion; my brain became alert and clear; every faculty was at its brightest.  And I felt serenely confident of my ability to make the most of the situation.

Zarmi went on and on along the lonely path.  Not another pedestrian was in sight, and the rain walled in the pair of us.  Where comfort-loving humanity sought shelter from the inclement weather, we two moved out there in the storm, linked by a common enmity.