In their basement room the Walters family, sleepless, overwhelmed, sit silent; on the dark stairs outside my door I hear at intervals the tramp of men on unhappy missions--But no; I must go back to the very start of it all: Last night I had an early dinner at Simpson's, in the Strand--so early that I was practically alone in the restaurant.

The letter I was about to write to you was uppermost in my mind and, having quickly dined, I hurried back to my rooms.

I remember clearly that, as I stood in the street before our house fumbling for my keys, Big Ben on the Parliament Buildings struck the hour of seven.

The chime of the great bell rang out in our peaceful thoroughfare like a loud and friendly greeting.
Gaining my study, I sat down at once to write.

Over my head I could hear Captain Fraser-Freer moving about--attiring himself, probably, for dinner.