CHAPTER XX

THE NOTE ON THE DOOR I saw little of Nayland Smith during the remainder of that day. Presumably he was following those “promptings” to which he had referred, though I was unable to conjecture whither they were leading him. Then, towards dusk he arrived in a perfect whirl, figuratively sweeping me off my feet. “Get your coat on, Petrie!” he cried; “you forget that we have a most urgent appointment!” Beyond doubt I had forgotten that we had any appointment whatever that evening, and some surprise must have shown upon…