He walked back along the Strand and entered the restaurant where Beatrice and he had had their memorable supper.

From the vestibule he could just see Grier's back as he stood talking to a waiter by the side of a round table in the middle of the room.

Tavernake slowly withdrew and made his way upstairs.

There were one or two little tables there in the balcony, hidden from the lower part of the room.

He seated himself at one, handing his coat and hat mechanically to the waiter who came hurrying up.
"But, Monsieur," the man explained, with a deprecating gesture, "these tables are all taken." Tavernake, who kept an account book in which he registered even his car fares, put five shillings in the man's hand.
"This one I will have," he said, firmly, and sat down.
The man looked at him and turned aside to speak to the head waiter.