Pausing for a moment in the entrance of the club, and chewing reflectively, Kerry swung open the door and walked out into the street.  He had one more cover to “beat,” and he set off briskly, plunging into the mazes of Soho crossing Wardour Street into old Compton Street, and proceeding thence in the direction of Shaftesbury Avenue.  Turning to the right on entering the narrow thoroughfare for which he was bound, he stopped and whistled softly.  He stood in the entrance to a court; and from further up the court came an answering whistle.

Kerry came out of the court again, and proceeded some twenty paces along the street to a restaurant.  The windows showed no light, but the door remained open, and Kerry entered without hesitation, crossed a darkened room and found himself in a passage where a man was seated in a little apartment like that of a stage-door keeper.  He stood up, on hearing Kerry’s tread, peering out at the newcomer.

“The restaurant is closed, sir.”

“Tell me a better one,” rapped Kerry.  “I want to go upstairs.”

“Your card, sir.”

Kerry revealed his teeth in a savage smile and tossed his card on to the desk before the concierge.  He passed on, mounting the stairs at the end of the passage.  Dimly a bell rang; and on the first landing Kerry met a heavily built foreign gentleman, who bowed.

“My dear Chief Inspector,” he said gutturally, “what is this, please?  I trust nothing is wrong, eh?”

“Nothing,” replied Kerry.  “I just want to look round.”

“A few friends,” explained the suave alien, rubbing his hands together and still bowing, “remain playing dominoes with me.”

“Very good,” rapped Kerry.  “Well, if you think we have given them time to hide the ‘wheel’ we’ll go in.  Oh, don’t explain.  I’m not worrying about sticklebacks tonight.  I’m out for salmon.”

He opened a door on the left of the landing and entered a large room which offered evidence of having been hastily evacuated by a considerable company.  A red and white figured cloth of a type much used in Continental cafes had been spread upon a long table, and three foreigners, two men and an elderly woman, were bending over a row of dominoes set upon one corner of the table.  Apparently the men were playing and the woman was watching.  But there was a dense cloud of cigar smoke in the room, and mingled with its pungency were sweeter scents.  A number of empty champagne bottles stood upon a sideboard and an elegant silk theatre-bag lay on a chair.

“H’m,” said Kerry, glaring fiercely from the bottles to the players, who covertly were watching him.  “How you two smarts can tell a domino from a door-knocker after cracking a dozen magnums gets me guessing.”

He took up the scented bag and gravely handed it to the old woman.

“You have mislaid your bag, madam,” he said.  “But, fortunately, I noticed it as I came in.”

He turned the glance of his fierce eyes upon the man who had met him on the landing, and who had followed him into the room.