So this afternoon I have been abroad with a constable, and while I wrote this long letter to you he has been fidgeting in my easy chair.

Now he informs me that his patience is exhausted and that I must go at once.

So there is no time to wonder; no time to speculate as to the future, as to the colonel's sudden turn against me or the promise of his whisper in my ear.

I shall, no doubt, spend the night behind those hideous, forbidding walls that your guide has pointed out to you as New Scotland Yard.

And when I shall write again, when I shall end this series of letters so filled with-- The constable will not wait.