As Hetherwick was breakfasting next morning, Mapperley, outwardly commonplace and phlegmatic as ever, walked into his room.  
"Brief outline first, Mapperley," commanded Hetherwick, instinctively scenting news. "Details later. Well?"
 
"Spotted him at once at Victoria," said Mapperley. "Followed him down there. He was at Riversreade an hour. Then went back to Dorking—had lunch at 'Red Lion.' He stopped there till four o'clock, lunching and idling. Went back to town by the 4.29, arriving 6.5. I followed him then to the Café de Paris. He dined there and hung about till past ten. And then he went to Vivian's Night Club."
 
Hetherwick pricked up his ears at that. Vivian's Night Club!—here, at any rate, seemed to be a link in the chain of which Matherfield believed himself to hold at least one end. The five-pound note found on Granett had been traced to Vivian's Night Club: now Mapperley had tracked Lady Riversreade's mysterious visitor to the same resort.
 
"To Vivian's Night Club, eh, Mapperley?" he said. "Let's see?—where is that?"
 
"Entrance is in Candlestick Passage, off St. Martin's Lane," replied Mapperley with promptitude. "Club's on first floor—jolly fine suite of rooms, too!"
 
"You've been in it?" suggested Hetherwick.
 
"Twice! Not last night, though. You didn't give me any further orders than to see where he went finally, after returning to town. So, when I'd run him to earth at Vivian's, I went home. I argued that if he was wanted further, Vivian's would find him."
 
"All right, Mapperley. But before that? You followed him to Riversreade Court?"
 
Mapperley grinned widely.
 
"No!—I did better than that. I was there before him—much better that, than following. I spotted him quick enough at Victoria, and made sure he got into the 10.10. Then I got in. As soon as we got to Dorking, I jumped out, got outside the station and chartered a taxi and drove off to Riversreade Court. I made the driver hide his cab up the road: I laid low in the plantation opposite the entrance gates. Presently my lord came along and drove up to the house. He was there the best part of an hour; then he drove off again towards Dorking. I followed at a good distance: kept him in sight, all the same. He got out of his conveyance in the High Street: so did I. He went into the Red Lion: so did I. He had lunch there: so had I. After that he lounged about in the smoking-room: I kept an eye on him."
 
"I suppose he didn't meet anybody?"
 
"Nobody!"
 
"Well, and at the Café de Paris? Did he meet anybody there?"
 
"He exchanged a nod and a word here and there with men—and women—that came in and went out. But as to any arranged meeting, I should say not. I should say, too, that he was well known at the Café de Paris."
 
"Did he seem to be a man of means? You know what I mean?"
 
"He did himself very well at lunch and dinner, anyway," said Mapperley, with another grin. "Bottle of claret at Dorking, and a pint of champagne at the Café de Paris—big cigars, too. That sort of man, you know."
 
Hetherwick considered matters a moment.
 
"How do you get in to this Vivian's Night Club?" he asked suddenly.
 
"Pay!" answered Mapperley laconically. "At the door. Some nonsense about being proposed, but that's all bosh! Two of you go—say Brown and Smith. Brown proposes Smith and Smith proposes Brown. All rot! Anybody can get in—with money."
 
"And what goes on there?"
 
"Dancing! Drinking! Devilry! Quite respectable, though," replied Mapperley. "Been no prosecutions, anyway—so far."
 
"What time does it open?"
 
"Nine o'clock," answered Mapperley, with a suggestive grin. "In the old days it didn't open till after the theatres. But now—earlier."
 
"Really not a night-club at all—in the old acceptation of the term," suggested Hetherwick. "Evening, really?"
 
"That's about it," agreed Mapperley. "Anyhow, it's Vivian's."
 
For the second time in the course of his investigations, Hetherwick's thoughts turned to Boxley. Boxley's love of intimate acquaintance with all sides of London life had doubtless led him to look in at Vivian's: he would ask Boxley for some further information. And he looked up Boxley at the club.
 
Boxley knew Vivian's well enough—innocent and innocuous now, said Boxley, what with all these new regulations and so on: degenerated, indeed—or improved, just whichever way you regarded it—into a supper club and that sort of thing. Dancing?—oh yes, there was dancing, and so on—but things had altered—altered.
 
"Well, I don't want to dance there, nor to go there at all, for that matter, unless I'm obliged to," said Hetherwick. "What I want to know is something about a man who, I believe, frequents the place—a somewhat notable man."
 
"Describe him!" commanded Boxley.
 
Hetherwick retailed Rhona's description of Baseverie: Boxley nodded.
 
"I know that man—by sight," he said. "Seen him there. I believe he's something to do with the proprietorship: that place is owned by a small syndicate. But I don't know his name. I've seen him outside too—round about Leicester Square and its purlieus."
 
Hetherwick went from Boxley to Matherfield and told him the result of Mapperley's work.
 
"I know Vivian's, of course," said Matherfield. "Been in there two or three times lately in relation to this five-pound note. Don't remember seeing this man, though. But in view of what your clerk says, I'd like to see him. Come with me. We'll go to-night."
 
"Make it Monday," suggested Hetherwick. "To-morrow, Sunday, I shall be meeting Miss Hannaford again, and before we go to Vivian's I'd like to know if she has anything to tell about the last visit of Baseverie to Riversreade Court—the visit that Mapperley watched yesterday. She may have."
 
"Monday night then," agreed Matherfield. "I don't know what we can expect, but I'd certainly like to know who this man is and why he goes to Lady Riversreade."
 
"No good, you may be sure!" said Hetherwick. "But we'll ferret it out—somehow."
 
"Odd, that things seem to be centring round Vivian's!" mused Matherfield. "The fiver—and now this. Well—Monday evening then?—perhaps Miss Hannaford can supply a bit of extra news to-morrow."
 
Hetherwick, meeting Rhona at Victoria next day, found his arm grasped in Rhona's right hand and himself twisted round.
 
"If you want to see Lady Riversreade in the flesh, there she is!" whispered Rhona. "Came up by the same train—there, going towards the bookstall; a tall man with her!"
 
At that moment Lady Riversreade turned to speak to a porter who was carrying some light luggage for her, and Hetherwick had a full and good view of her face and figure. A fine, handsome, capable-looking woman, he said to himself, and one that once seen would not easily be forgotten.
 
"Who's the man?" he asked, looking from Lady Riversreade to her companion, a tall, bronzed man of military appearance, and apparently of about her own age.
 
"Major Penteney," replied Rhona promptly. "He's a friend of hers, who takes a tremendous interest in the Home—in fact, he acts as a sort of representative of it here in town. He's often down at the Court—I believe he's in love with her."
 
"Well-matched couple," observed Hetherwick, as the two people under notice moved away towards the exit. "And what's Lady Riversreade come up for?"
 
"Oh, I don't know that," replied Rhona. "She never tells me anything about her private doings. I heard her say that she was going to Town this morning and shouldn't be back until Tuesday, but that's all I know."
 
"That man, Baseverie, came again on Friday?" suggested Hetherwick. "But I know he did—Mapperley watched him. Anything happen?"
 
"Nothing—except that Lady Riversreade told me that if Dr. Baseverie called he was to be brought in to her at once," answered Rhona. "He came at the same time as before, and was with her an hour."
 
"Any signs on her part of being further upset?" asked Hetherwick.
 
"No—on the contrary she seemed quite cool and collected after he'd gone," said Rhona. "Of course she made no reference to his visit."
 
"Has she never mentioned him to you?"
 
"Never! In spite of the fact that his professed object was to see the Home and the patients, he's seen neither."
 
"Which shows that that was all a mere excuse to get speech with her!" muttered Hetherwick. "Well—we're going to find out who this Dr. Baseverie is! Matherfield and I intend to get in touch with him to-morrow night."
 
But when the next night came Hetherwick's plans about the visit to Vivian's were frustrated by an unexpected happening, and neither he nor Matherfield as much as crossed the threshold of the night-club in Candlestick Passage. They went there at ten o'clock: that, said Matherfield, w............