"A very hazy one. To-night, as I came to your office, I have every reason to believe that someone followed me in a taxicab."
"You came in a car?"
"I did."
"And a cab followed you the whole way?"
"Practically the whole way, except that as my chauffeur turned into Chancery Lane, the cab stopped at the corner of Fleet Street."
"Your idea is that your pursuer followed on foot from this point?"
"Such was my impression."
"H'm, quite impossible. And is this sort of thing constant, Sir Charles?"
"It has been for some time past."
"Anything else?"
"One very notable thing, Mr. Harley. I was actually assaulted less than a week ago within sight of my own house."
"Indeed! Tell me of this." Paul Harley became aware of an awakening curiosity. Sir Charles Abingdon was not the type of man who is lightly intimidated.
"I had been to visit a friend in the neighbourhood," Sir Charles continued, "whom I am at present attending professionally, although I am actually retired. I was returning across the square, close to midnight, when, fortunately for myself, I detected the sound of light, pattering footsteps immediately
