"Yes, very extraordinary."

"No."

"Oh, no."

"Good. I'll come to you at once. Are you at Linden Gardens?"

"Very well, I'll come straight to the club."

Mechanically I hung up the receiver. Curious thoughts, strange
conjectures, wonderings, arguments, crowded my brain in confusion. Five
days had passed since the date of Gastrell's reception, when I had seen
Jack Osborne at supper with the woman he had said he mistrusted. Since
that evening, according to what Easterton had just told me, nobody had
seen or heard of him. He had not been to his chambers; he had not left
any message there or elsewhere; he had not written; he had neither
telegraphed nor telephoned.

Where was he? What was he doing? Could some misfortune have befallen
him? Had he--

I did not end the sentence my mind had formed. Instead I went out,
hailed a taxi, and in a few minutes was on my way to Brooks's.

Outside a house in Grafton Street a group of people stood clustered
about the door. Others, on the pavement opposite, stared up at the
windows. Two policemen upon the doorstep prevented anyone from entering.

Leaning forward as my taxi sped by, I peered in through the open door of