THE HYDE PARK TEA-HOUSE

Once outside the Pompadour Hotel the chief and his subordinate hurried at a great pace towards the Lancaster Gate entrance to Kensington Gardens.  And when they had crossed Bayswater Road the superior pulled himself up, took a breath, and looked around him.

“No sign of them yet, Chettle,” he observed.  “Did he say at once?”

“Said they’d be on their way in two minutes, sir,” answered Chettle.  “And it wouldn’t take them many minutes to run up here.”

“I wonder what it’s all about?” mused the chief.  “Some new development since we left the Yard, of course.  Well—­I think we may probably find something in this parcel, Chettle, that will surprise us as much as any new development can possibly do.  It strikes me—­”

“Here they are, sir!” interrupted Chettle.  He had lingered on the kerb, looking towards the rise of the road going towards the Marble Arch, and his quick eyes had spotted a closed taxi-cab which came out of the Marlborough Gate at full speed and turned down in their direction.  “Blindway and two others,” he announced.  “Seems to be in force, sir, anyhow!”

The taxi-cab pulled up at the little gate leading into Kensington Gardens by the pumping-station, and Blindway, followed by two other men, hurriedly descended and joined his superior.

“Well, what is it?” demanded the chief.  “Something new?  And about this affair?”

Blindway made a gesture suggesting that they should enter the Gardens; once within he drew the chief aside, leaving his companions with Chettle.

“About half an hour ago,” he said, “a telephone message came on from the City police.  They said they’d received some queerish information about this affair, but only particularly about the death of that man down at the hotel in the Docks.  Their information ran to this—­that the actual murderer has an appointment with some of his associates this afternoon at that tea-house in Hyde Park, and that if the City police would send some plain-clothes men up there he’ll be pointed out.  So the City lot want us to join them, and I was sent along to meet you here, sir—­I’ve brought those two men and of course there’s Chettle.  We’re all to go along to this tea-house, not in a body, naturally, but to sort of drop in, and to wait events.  Of course, sir, that last murder occurred in the City, and so the City police want to come in at it, and—­”

“No further details?” asked the chief, obviously puzzled.  “Nothing as to who’s going to point out the murderer, and so on?”

“Nothing!” replied Blindway.  “At least, nothing reported to us.  All we’ve got to do is to be there, on the spot, and to keep our eyes open for the critical moment.”

“And what time is the critical moment to be?” asked the chief, a little superciliously.  “It all seems remarkably vague, Blindway—­why couldn’t they give us more news?”

“Don’t know, sir—­they seemed purposely vague,” replied the detective.  “However, the time fixed is two o’clock.  To be there about two—­that was the request—­at least four of us.”