to our being near the scene of the removal, but to our having followed the removed man there," I growled.
"You're right," said Chelubai.
I sat back in the cab nursing my grudge against Pudleigh; and, thanks to the exasperating evening he had forced on me, I found myself very much less moved and excited than I had expected, now that the hour of strenuous action was upon me. As for Chelubai, the admirable national coolness stood him in good stead. He took the sand-bag from his pocket, and dandled it fondly while he made sure that it was fit for use.
When we came to Vauxhall Station, we paid the cabman, walked sharply through the station, came out on the other side into the Harleyf ord Road, went up it to the Oval, and turned into Stoneleigh Street.
It was empty, and Chelubai said: "Suppose they took a faster cab, and Pudleigh's gone?"
"No chance of it," I said, with assurance.
We took our stand at the mouth of the little lane in the middle of the street, for we did not know the house in which the inamorata of Pudleigh lived, put on our false beards and waited. Seven or eight minutes dragged by, and for all that I had made up my mind that the world would be better without Pudleigh; they were the slowest and most uncomfortable minutes of my life. Now
