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But the returning Londoner who had known the area in normal times must have surveyed this scene with some astonishment. Revellers there were, although the hour was late, but they revelled behind closed doors, unlighted windows. Wardens, police, and irrepressible taxicabs held undisputed possession. Gloomy reflections no doubt claimed the Chief Inspector's mind, for he broke a long silence only when the police car, entering South Audley Street, swung from thence into a narrow turning. The driver pulled up.

"This is the house, sir."

"Good."

Firth disentangled his great length from the low pitched car, and when he stood upright on the pavement he towered above its roof. Sergeant Bluett, who rode beside the driver, got out also. To their experienced eyes, the scene possessed certain unique characteristics, not least of these being the fact that South Audley Street showed empty from end to end.

"No one in sight," muttered the Chief Inspector.

Sergeant Bluett was shining the ray of a torch upon a door painted vivid scarlet, and further distinguished by what appeared to be silver fittings. He moved the ray slightly so that it illuminated a small silver plate; he read aloud: