CHAPTER III
When we least expect it the Ideal meets us in the street of the
Commonplace and locks arms with us. Nevermore shall we choose
our paths uninfluenced. A new leaven has entered our personality
to dominate and direct it.
The new advertisement duly appeared and on the next day, which was Wednesday—I remember it because it was my hospital day—I received several written answers, and among them, one in which I felt confident I recognised the peculiar z*’s and r*’s of Weltz and Rizzi.
I took it at once to Maitland. He glanced at it a moment and then impulsively grasped my hand. “By Jove, Doc!” he exclaimed, “if this crafty fox doesn’t scent the hound, we shall soon run him to earth. You see he has given no address and signs a new name. We are to write to Carl Cazenove,
