I'd gone home to my chambers, to rest a bit after our adventures at Bristol and Falmouth, so Swallow had to act on his own initiative.

He set off for the Fragonard Club, and outside it met his man.

This particular man had been keeping a watch for days on that tobacconist's shop in Wardour Street.

That afternoon he suddenly saw the Squire leave it, by a side door.

He followed him to the Fragonard Club, watched him enter; then he himself turned into a neighbouring bar and telephoned to Swallow.