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294 His ménage was not an extensive one, consisting only of an elderly Italian valet.

When I called at Fitzjohn's Avenue and told Farnell what I knew, he was amazed.

"My dear d'Escombe, how did you learn all this?" he asked.

But I only assumed a sphinx-like expression, and smiled, asking him to supply any further details he could regarding his enemy's habits or his haunts.

"I really don't know. Sometimes he lunches at Birch's, in Cornhill," he said; "and he's a member of the City Carlton. You know his office in the Poultry, at the corner of Bucklersbury?"

"Yes," I said. "I suppose I must now make his acquaintance."

But scarcely had I uttered this sentence when his daughter Edith entered the room.

"Whose acquaintance. Dad?" she asked.

"We are talking business, dearie," he replied. "And I wish that when I'm engaged with Dr. d'Escombe you would knock before you come in. It is hardly lady-like to burst into a man's room like this!"

"But, Dad, how was I to know?" she protested with a pout. "I didn't hear you talking at first. I thought you were alone,"