“In that case I think I’ll be there to meet him,” I continued.  “It’s a pity he should not see some one, and I suppose you will not keep your appointment?”

“Not if I knows it,” the man answered.  Then he added regretfully, “A regular toff—­he was—­free with his rhino as could be, and dressed up to the nines.  He chucked his ’arf soverings about as if they were dirt, he did.”

“It is sad to think that through your folly, no more of them will find themselves into your pocket,” I said.  “You should have done the trick last night, and you would now be in the full enjoyment of your wealth.  As it is you have had all your trouble for nothing.  Now, that’s all I want to say to you, so you can go and join your amiable companions as soon as you like.  Just one word of advice, however, before you depart.  Don’t go near St. Martin’s church to-night, and, when you want to kick another unoffending citizen to death, be sure of your man before you commence operations.”

As I said this I rang the bell and told Wilson to show him out, which he did.

“Now,” I said to myself after he had gone, “this looks like developing into an affair after my own heart.  I am most anxious to discover who my mysterious enemy can be.  It might be Grobellar, but I fancy he is still in Berlin.  There’s Tremasty, but I don’t think he would dare venture to England.  No, when I come to think of it, this business does not seem to belong to either of them.”

I took from my pocket the watch which was to have played such an important part in the drama and consulted it.  It was just half-past eleven, therefore I had exactly half-an-hour to get to the rendezvous.  I called Wilson and congratulated him on the success which had attended our efforts of that evening.

“It’s a good thing you came out of it so well, sir,” he said.  “They were a nasty pair of chaps, and would have thought as much of ‘outing’ you as they would of drinking a pot of ale.”

“But thank goodness, they didn’t succeed,” I replied.  “As the saying goes, ‘a miss has never killed a man yet.’  And now, Wilson, you’d better be off home to bed.  Turn out the gas before you go.  Good-night!”

“Good-night, sir,” he answered, and then I put on my hat and left the office.

I found when I stepped into the street that the character of the night had changed.  Thick clouds obscured the sky, and a few drops of rain were falling.  At first I felt inclined to take a cab, but on second thoughts I changed my mind, and putting up my umbrella strode along in the direction of St. Martin’s church.

The theatres were over by this time, and the streets were beginning to grow empty.  I passed the Gaiety where a middle-aged gentleman, decidedly intoxicated, was engaged in a noisy altercation with a policeman, who was threatening to take him to Bow Street if he did not go quietly home, and at last approached the spot for which I was making.  I took up my position on the darker side of Holywell Street, and waited.  So far I seemed to have the thoroughfare to myself, but I had still some three or four minutes to wait.