Once and again those genial beams dispersed it, but soon it seemed as if the vapours were getting the upper hand.

A thought, in fact, had crossed Mr.
Taynton's mind that quite distinctly dimmed his happiness.

But a little reflection told him that a very simple step on his part would put that right again, and he walked home rather more quickly than he had set out, since he had this little bit of business to do before dinner.
He went--this was only natural--to the house where Mr.Mills's flat was situated, and inquired of the porter whether his partner had yet returned.

But the same answer as before was given him, and saying that he had need of a document that Mills had taken home with him three days before he went up in the lift, and rang the bell of the flat.

But it was not his servant who opened it, but sad Superintendent Figgis.
For some reason this was rather a shock to Mr.Taynton; to expect one face and see another is always (though ever so slightly) upsetting, but he instantly recovered himself and explained his errand.
"My partner took home with him on Tuesday a paper, which is concerned with my business," he said.