The Female of the Species (2024)

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SAPPER
[HERMAN CYRIL MCNEILE]

BOOK 5 IN THE BULLDOG DRUMMOND SERIES

First published by Hodder & Stoughton, London, 1928

This e-book edition: Roy Glashan's Library, 2020
Version Date: 2020-02-26
Produced by Roy Glashan

All content added by RGL is proprietary and protected by copyright.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

I. — IN WHICH I MAKEDRUMMOND'S ACQUAINTANCE

Even now, after three months' calm thought, Isometimes feel that I must have dreamed the whole thing. I say tomyself that this is England: that I am sitting at lunch in myclub hoping that that gluttonous lawyer Seybourne will not takeall the best part of the Stilton: that unless I get a move on Ishall be very late at Lord's. I say all that just as I alwaysused to say it—particularly about Seybourne. And then itsuddenly comes over me—the events of those amazingdays.

I don't suppose anybody will believe me: I wouldn't believethe story myself if somebody else told it to me. As I say, Isometimes think it must be a dream. And then I turn back my leftsleeve nearly to the elbow and look at a three-inch scar, stillred and angry, though it's healing nicely now. And I know it wasno dream.

Was it a joke? If so, it was the grimmest and most desperatejest that has ever been cracked, and one wherein the humour wasdifficult to find. Moreover, it was a joke that would havebrought the propounder of it to the gallows—had we but beenable to catch her. For there was a woman at the bottom of it, andwomen can suffer the death penalty in England for murder.

No it was no dream: no jest. It was grim, stern reality playedfor a stake sufficient to crack the nerve of the principal playeron our side had he been possessed of nerves to crack. A gameplayed against time: a game where one mistake might have provedfatal.

Personally I am a peace-loving individual of mild appearance:I like my rubber of bridge at the club and my round of golf: I amnot averse to letting people know that I was wounded in the legin France. Moreover, I fail to see why I should gratuitously addthe information that I was in the horse lines at the time, andHeaven alone knows where the bullet came from. I mention thesepoints merely to show that I am just a very ordinary sort ofperson, and not at all of the type which seems to attractadventure. In fact, until that amazing Whitsun, the only thing inany way out of the ordinary which had ever happened to me waswhen I, on one occasion, tried to stop a runaway horse. And theannoying thing then was that the driver assured me he had thehorse under control. Three weeks had elapsed, and I was still inhospital, so I didn't argue the point.

The truth is that I am not one of those enviable men who areat their best when in a tight corner, or when confronted with theneed for immediate action. If, as I read somewhere once, menconsist of two classes—those who can stop a dog fight andthose who can't—honesty compels me to admit that I belongto the latter. In fact, put in a nutshell, I am a rabbit.

And yet I wouldn't have missed that adventure for anything. Ican't flatter myself that I did very much: indeed, there weretimes when I fear I was merely in the way. For all that, neveronce did a single member of the extraordinary bunch of men whowere playing on our side say any word of reproach or irritation.They never let me feel that I was a passenger even when thestrain was greatest.

However, enough of this preamble. I will start at thebeginning. For many years it has been my custom to spend a fewdays round Whitsuntide with some old friends of mine calledTracey. They have a charming house not far fromPangbourne—Elizabethan, and standing in delightful grounds.There is generally a small party—perhaps a dozen inall—and I may say that the keyword to the atmosphere of thehouse is peace. It may be that I am a little old-fashioned, butthe pleasure to be derived from what is sometimes described as anevening's jolly seems to me to be overrated.

As usual I went to them this year, arriving on the Thursdaybefore Whitsuntide. The motor met me at the station, and, havingshaken Jenkins, the chauffeur, by the hand, I got in. Somewhat tomy surprise, he did not at once drive off: he appeared to bewaiting for someone else.

"Captain Drummond, sir," he said to me, "who is stopping atthe house, came down to get a paper."

"Captain Drummond, Jenkins," I mused. "Do I know him?"

"I think not, sir," he answered, and it seemed to me that avery faint smile twitched round his lips. In fact, there was asort of air of expectancy about Jenkins—excitementalmost—that was most unusual. Jenkins I have alwaysregarded as a model servant.

"Five to one, my trusty lad. That's better than breaking yourfalse teeth on a plum stone."

I turned at this somewhat astounding utterance and regardedthe speaker. He was still immersed in the paper, and for themoment I couldn't see his face.

"Put anything on Moongazer?"

"'Alf a dollar each way, sir," said Jenkins, so far forgettinghimself as to suck his teeth in his excitement.

"You'll get your money back. Second at fours. That's not sobad for the old firm."

"Pity about cook, sir," said Jenkins earnestly. "She don't'old with backing both ways. Moongazer—win only—shewas." He consulted a small notebook, apparently to verify thestatement.

"That sheds a bit of gloom over the afternoon, Jenkins."

Captain Drummond lowered the paper, and seemed to become awareof my existence for the first time. "Hullo! hullo! hullo!" heexclaimed. "The new arrival. Home, Jenkins—and for God'ssake don't break it to the cook till after dinner."

He got into the car, and it struck me that I had seldom seen alarger individual.

"Do you think it is quite wise to encourage the servants tobet?" I inquired a little pointedly as we started.

"Encourage, old lad?" he boomed. "They don't want anyencouragement. You have to keep 'em off it with a field gun."

He waved a friendly hand at an extremely pretty girl on thepavement, and I took off my hat.

"Who was that?" he said, turning to me.

"I don't know," I answered. "I thought you waved at her."

"But you took off your hat."

"Because you waved at her."

He pondered deeply.

"I follow your reasoning," he conceded at length. "The falsepremise, if I may say so, is your conclusion that a friendlygesture of the right hand betokens previous acquaintance. Iregret to say I do not know the lady: I probably never shall.Still, we have doubtless planted hope in her virginal bosom." Herelapsed into silence, while I glanced at him out of the cornerof my eye. A strange individual, I reflected: one, somehow, Icould hardly place at the Traceys'. Now that he was sittingbeside me he seemed larger than ever—evidently a verypowerful man. Moreover, his face was rather of the type that oneassociates with pugilism. He certainly had no claims to goodlooks, and yet there was something very attractive about hisexpression.

"The Cat and Custard Pot," he remarked suddenly, and Jenkinstouched his hat.

"It's nearly an hour," he said, turning to me, "since Ilowered any ale. And I don't really know Bill Tracey well enoughto reason with him about his. The damned stuff isn't fit todrink."

The car pulled up outside a pub, and my companion descended. Irefused his invitation to join him—ale is not a favouritebeverage of mine—and remained sitting in the car. Theafternoon was warm, the air heavy with the scent of flowers froma neighbouring garden. And in the distance one got a glimpse ofthe peaceful Thames. Peaceful—the mot juste: everything waspeaceful in that charming corner of England. And with a feelingof drowsy contentment I lay back and half closed my eyes.

I don't know what drew my attention to them first—thetwo men who were sitting at one of the little tables under atree. Perhaps it was that they didn't seem quite to fit in withtheir surroundings. Foreigners, I decided, and yet it was morefrom the cut of their clothes than from their actual faces that Icame to the conclusion. They weren't talking, but every now andthen they stole a glance at the door by which Drummond had gonein. And then one of them turned suddenly and stared long andearnestly at me.

"Who are those two men, Jenkins?" I said, leaning forward.

"Never seen 'em before today, sir," he answered. "But they was'ere when the Captain stopped for his pint on the way down.Lumme—look there."

I looked, and I must admit that for a moment or too I began tohave doubts as to Drummond's sanity. He had evidently come out bysome other door, and he was now standing behind the trunk of thetree under which the men were sitting. They were obviously quiteunaware of his presence, and if such a thing hadn't beeninconceivable I should have said he was deliberatelyeavesdropping. Anyway, the fact remains that for nearly half aminute he stood there absolutely motionless, whilst I watched thescene in frank amazement. Then one of the two men happened toglance at me, and I suppose my face must have given somethingaway. He nudged his companion, and the two of them rose to theirfeet just as Drummond stepped out from behind the tree.

"Good afternoon, my pretties," he burbled genially. "Are westaying long in Pangbourne's happy clime—or are wenot?"

"Who the devil are you, sir?" said one of the men, speakingperfect English, except for a slightly guttural accent.

Drummond took out his case and selected a cigarette withcare.

"Surely," he remarked pleasantly, "your incompetence cannot beas astounding as all that. Tush! tush!—"; he lifted a handlike a leg of mutton as the man who had spoken started forwardangrily. "I will push your face in later, if necessary, but justat the moment I would like a little chat. And since theappearance of you both is sufficient to shake any man to thefoundations, let us not waste time over unnecessaryquestions."

"Look here," snarled the other angrily, "do you want a roughhouse, young man?"

"Rough house?" said Drummond mildly. "What is a rough house?Surely you cannot imagine for one minute that I would so fardemean myself as to lift my hand in anger against myneighbour."

And then the most extraordinary thing happened. I was watchingthe strange scene very closely, wondering really whether I oughtnot to interfere—yet even so I didn't see how it was done.It was so incredibly quick, and as far as I could tell, Drummondnever moved.

The two men seemed to close in on him suddenly with the ideaobviously of hustling him out of the garden. And they didn'thustle him out of the garden. Far from it. There came a noise asof two hard bodies impinging together, and the gentleman who hadnot yet spoken recoiled a pace, holding his nose and cursing.

I sympathized with him: it is a singularly painful thing tohit one's nose hard on somebody else's head. In fact, the onlycompletely unmoved person was Drummond himself.

"You shouldn't kiss in public places, laddies," he remarkedsadly. "It might make the barmaid jealous. And I do declare hislittle nosey-posey is beginning to bleed. If you ask thechauffeur nicely he might lend you a spanner to put down yourback."

The two men stood there glaring at him, and they were not aprepossessing pair. And then the one who had done the talkingdrew his friend of the damaged nose on one side, and spoke to himin a low tone. He seemed to be urging some course on the otherwhich the latter was unwilling to accept.

"My God, sir," muttered Jenkins to me, "the bloke with thebleeding nose has got a knife."

"Look out. Captain Drummond," I called out. "That man has aknife."

"I know, old lad," he answered. "He's been playing at pirates.Not going, surely? Why, we've never had our little chat."

But without a backward glance, the two men passed through thegate and started walking rapidly down the road in the directionof the station. And after a time Drummond sauntered over to thecar and got in.

"After which breezy little interlude," he murmured, "thepowerful car again swung forward, devouring mile after mile."

"Would you very much mind explaining?" I remarked dazedly.

"Explaining?" he said. "What is there to explain?"

"Do you usually go about the country molesting perfectstrangers? Who are those men?"

"I dunno," he answered. "But they knew me all right." He wasstaring at the road ahead and frowning. "It's impossible," hemuttered at length. "And yet—"

He relapsed into silence, while I still gazed at him inamazement. "But," I cried, "it's astounding. If I hadn't seen itwith my own eyes, I couldn't have believed it possible."

He grinned suddenly. "I suppose it was a bit disconcerting,"he answered. "But we're moving in deep waters, laddie—or,rather, I am. And I tell you frankly I don't quite know where Iam. Why should those two blokes have followed me down here?"

"Then you have seen them before?"

He shook his head. "No. At least, I saw them when I stoppedfor some ale on the way down to the station. And they aren't veryclever at it."

"Clever at what?"

"The little game of observing without being observed. Apartfrom their appearance, which made them stick out a mile when seenin an English country inn, the man whose nose suffered slightlypositively hissed into the other's ear when he first saw me. Infact, I very nearly dealt with them then and there, only I wasafraid I'd be late for your train."

"But why should they follow you?" I persisted. "What's theidea?"

"I wish to God I knew," he answered gravely. "I don't thinkI'm losing my nerve, or anything of that sort—but I'mabsolutely in the dark. Almost as much as you are, in fact. Iloathe this waiting game."

"Of course," I remarked resignedly, "I suppose I am notinsane. I suppose there is some sense in all this, though at themoment I'm damned if I can see it."

"Presumably you read Kipling?" he said suddenly. I stared athim in silence—speech was beyond me. "A month ago," hecontinued calmly, "I received this."

From his breast pocket he took a slip of paper, and handed itto me. On it some lines were written in an obviously femininehand.

When the Himalayanpeasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts toscare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But theshe-bear, thus accosted, rends the peasant tooth andnail.
And the point, I warn you, Drummond, isdiscovered in the tail.

I handed the paper back to him.

"What do you make of it?" he asked.

"It looks like a stupid joke," I said. "Do you know thewriting?"

He shook his head.

"No; I don't. So you think it's a joke, do you?"

"My dear sir," I cried, "what else can it be? I confess thatat the moment I forget the poem, but the first three lines areobviously Kipling. Equally obviously the fourth is not."

"Precisely," he agreed with a faint smile. "I got as far asthat myself. And so it was the fourth line that attracted myattention. It seemed to me that the message, if any, would befound in it. It was."

"What is the fourth line?" I asked curiously.

"'For the female of the species is more deadly than the male'"he answered.

"But, surely," I cried in amazement, "you can't take a thinglike that seriously. It's probably a foolish hoax sent you bysome girl you cut at a night club."

I laughed a little irritably: for a man to take such a messagein earnest struck me as being childish to a degree. A stupid jestplayed by some silly girl, with a penchant for being mysterious.Undoubtedly, I reflected, the man was a fool. And, anyway, whathad it got to do with the two men at the Cat and Custard Pot?

"'The female of the species is more deadly than the male,'" herepeated, as if he hadn't heard my remark. "No hoax about it, oldlad; no jest, believe you me. Just a plain and simple warning.And now the game has begun."

For a moment or two I wondered if he was pulling my leg; buthe was so deadly serious that I realized that he, at any rate,believed it was genuine. And my feeling of irritation grew. Whatan ass the man must be! "What game?" I asked sarcastically."Playing peep-bo behind the trees?"

He let out a sudden roar of laughter.

"You probably think I'm bughouse, don't you?" he cried."Doesn't matter. The only real tragedy of the day is that thecook didn't back Moongazer each way."

Once again he relapsed into silence as the car rolled throughthe gates of the Traceys' house.

"Good intelligence work," he said thoughtfully. "We onlydecided to come down here yesterday. But I wish to the Lord you'dlearn to control your face. If you hadn't given a lifelikerepresentation of a gargoyle in pain I might have heard somethingof interest from those two blighters."

"Confound you!" I spluttered angrily.

"You couldn't help it." He waved a vast hand, and beat me onthe back. "I ought to have warned you. Must have looked a bitodd. But it's a pity—"

The car pulled up at the door, and he got out.

"Little Willie wants a drink," he remarked to Tracey, who cameout to greet us. "His nervous system has had a shock. By the way,where's Phyllis?"

"Playing tennis," said our host, and Drummond strolled off inthe direction of the lawn.

"Look here. Bill," I cried when he was out of earshot, "isthat man all there?"

"Hugh Drummond all there?" he laughed. "Very few men inEngland more so. Why?"

"Well, if he hits me on the back again I shan't be. He'srammed my braces through my spine. But, honestly, I thought theman was mad. He's been talking the most appalling hot air on theway up, and he assaulted two complete strangers at the Cat andCustard Pot."

Bill Tracey stared at me in surprise. "Assaulted two strangersat the Cat and Custard Pot!" he repeated. "What on earth did hedo that for?"

"Ask me another," I said irritably. "Two foreign-lookingmen."

"That's funny," he remarked thoughtfully. "Rodgers—thegardener—was telling me only a few minutes ago that he hadseen two foreign-looking men hanging round the house thismorning, and had told them to clear off. I wonder if they werethe same."

"Probably," I said. "But the fact that they were hanging roundhere hardly seems an adequate reason for Captain Drummond'sbehaviour. In fact, my dear Bill—What's the matter?"

He was staring over my shoulder in the direction of the lawn,and I swung round. Drummond was running towards us over thegrass, and there was a peculiar strained look on his face. Hepassed us without a word, and went up the stairs two at a time.We heard a door flung open, and then we saw him leaning out ofhis bedroom window.

"I don't like it, Algy," he said. "Not one little bit."

A somewhat vacuous-looking individual with an eyeglass hadjoined us, whom the remark was obviously addressed to.

"Ain't she there, old bean?" he remarked.

"Not a trace," answered the other, disappearing from view.

"Can't understand old Hugh," remarked the newcomerplaintively. "I've never seen him in this condition before. If Ididn't think it was impossible I should say he'd got the windup."

"What's stung you all?" said Bill Tracey. "Isn't Mrs Drummondplaying tennis?"

"She was—after lunch," answered Algy. "Then she got anote. Your butler wallah brought it out to her on the court. Itseemed to upset her a bit, for she stopped at once and came intothe house."

"Where," remarked Drummond, who had joined us, "she changedher clothes. It was a note, was it, Algy: not a letter? I mean,did you happen to notice if there was a stamp on theenvelope?"

"As a matter of fact, old lad, I particularly noticed therewas not. I was sitting next her when she took it."

The butler passed us at that moment, carrying the teathings.

"Parker," said Drummond quietly, "you gave a note to MrsDrummond this afternoon, I understand."

"I did, sir," answered the butler.

"Did you take it yourself at the front door?"

"I did, sir."

"Who delivered it?"

"A man, sir, who I did not know. A stranger to theneighbourhood, I gathered."

"Why?" snapped Drummond.

"Because, sir, he asked me the nearest way to thestation."

"Thank you, Parker," said Drummond quietly. "Algy, it'squicker than I expected. Hullo! Jenkins, do you want me?"

The chauffeur touched his cap.

"Well, sir, you know you asked me to adjust your carburettorfor you. I was just wondering if you could tell me when the carwill be back."

"Be back?" said Drummond. "What do you mean?"

"Why, sir, the Bentley ain't in the garage. I thought as 'owMrs Drummond had probably taken it out."

And if anything had been needed to confirm my opinion thatthis vast individual was a little peculiar, I got it then. Helifted his two enormous fists above his head and shook them atthe sky. I could see the great muscles rippling under hissleeves, and instinctively I recoiled a step.

The man looked positively dangerous.

"Thrice and unutterably damned fool that I am," he muttered."But how could I tell it would come so soon?"

"My dear fellow," said Bill Tracey, gazing at himapprehensively, "surely there is nothing to get excited about.Mrs Drummond is a very good driver."

"Driver be jiggered," cried Drummond. "If it was only aquestion of driving I wouldn't mind. I'm afraid they've got her.For the Lord's sake, give me a pint of ale. Yours is prettybad—but it's better than nothing."

And then he suddenly turned on me of all people.

"If only you could have kept your face in its place, littleman, I might have heard something. Still, it can't be helped. Godmade you like it."

"Really," I protested angrily, but this extraordinaryindividual had gone indoors again. "The man is positivelyinsulting."

"Nothing to what he can be if he dislikes you," said the beingcalled Algy placidly. "He'll be all right after he's had hisbeer."

II. — IN WHICH I FIND ADESERTED MOTOR CAR

Now, in view of the fact that this is my firstessay in literature, I realize that many of my relatives may feelit their bounden duty to buy the result. Several, I know, willborrow a copy from one another, or else will endeavour to touchme for one of the six free copies which, I am given tounderstand, the author receives on publication. But most of them,in one way or another, will read it. And I am particularlyanxious, bearing in mind the really astounding situations inwhich I found myself later, that no misconception should exist intheir minds as to my mood at the beginning.

Particularly Uncle Percy—the Dean of Wolverhampton. Heis, I am glad to say, a man of advanced years and considerablewealth. He is also unmarried, a fact which has never occasionedme great surprise. But few women exist who would be capable ofdealing with his intellect or digestion, and so far he does notseem to have met one of them. For his benefit, then, and that ofothers who know me personally, I may state that when I sawCaptain Drummond engaged in the operation, as he called it, of'golluping his beer with zest', I was extremely angry. He, on thecontrary, seemed to have recovered his spirits. No longer did heshake his fists in the air; on the contrary, a most depressingnoise issued from his mouth as he put down the empty tankard onthe table. He appeared to be singing, and, incredible though itmay seem, to derive some pleasure from the operation. The wordsof his dirge seemed to imply that the more we were together themerrier we would be—a statement to which I took the gravestexception.

I was to learn afterwards the amazing way in which thisamazing individual could throw off a serious mood and becomepositively hilarious. For instance—on thisoccasion—having delivered himself of this deplorablesentiment, he advanced towards me. Fearing another blow on theback, I retreated rapidly, but he no longer meditated assault. Hedesired apparently to examine my cuff-links, a thing which didnot strike me as being in the best of taste.

"You approve, I trust?" I said sarcastically.

He shook his head sadly.

"I feared as much," he remarked. "Or have you left 'em athome?" he added hopefully.

I turned to Bill Tracey. "Have you turned this place into aprivate lunatic asylum?" I demanded.

And all Bill did was to shout with laughter. "Cheer up, Joe,"he said. "You'll learn our little ways soon."

"Doubtless," I remarked stiffly. "In the meantime I think I'llgo and have some tea."

I crossed the lawn to find several people I knew assembled inthe summerhouse. And, having paid my respects to my hostess, andbeen introduced to two or three strangers, I sat down with afeeling of relief beside Tomkinson, a dear old friend ofmine.

"Really," I said to him under cover of the generalconversation, "there seem to be some very extraordinary people inthis party. Who and what is that enormous man who calls himselfDrummond?"

He laughed, and lit a cigarette. "He does strike one as a bitodd at first, doesn't he? But as a matter of fact, your adjectivewas right. He is an extraordinary man. He did some feats ofstrength for us last night that wouldn't have disgraced aprofessional strong man."

"He nearly smashed my spine," I said grimly, "giving it aplayful tap."

"He is not communicative about himself," went on Tomkinson."And what little I know about him I have learned from that fellowwith the eyeglass—Algy Longworth—who incidentallyregards him as only one degree lower than the Almighty. He hasgot a very charming wife."

He glanced round the party.

"You won't see her here," I remarked. "She has apparentlytaken his Bentley and gone out in it alone. Having discoveredthis fact, he first of all announces 'They've got her!' in blood-curdling tones, and then proceeds to lower inordinate quantitiesof ale. And his behaviour coming up from the station—"

"What's that you said?"

A man whose face was vaguely familiar turned and stared atme.

"Why, surely you're Mr Darrell!" I cried. "You play forMiddlesex?"

He nodded.

"I do—sometimes. But what's that you were saying aboutDrummond having said 'They've got her?'"

"Just that—and nothing more," I answered. "As I wastelling Tomkinson, Mrs Drummond has apparently gone out in hisBentley alone, and when he heard of it he said, 'They've gother.' But who 'they' are I can't tell you."

"Good God!" His face had suddenly become grave. "There must bea mistake. And yet Hugh doesn't make mistakes."

He made the last remark under his breath.

"It all seems a little hard to follow," I murmured with mildsarcasm. But he paid no attention: he had glanced up quickly, andwas staring over my shoulder.

"What's this I hear about Phyllis, old boy?" he said.

"The Lord knows, Peter." Drummond was standing there with aqueer look on his face. "She got a note delivered here by astranger. It came while I was at the station. And Algy said itseemed to upset her. Anyway, she went indoors and changed, andthen went out alone in the Bentley."

A silence had fallen on the party which was broken by ourhostess. "But why should that worry you. Captain Drummond? Yourwife often drives, she tells me."

"She knows no one in this neighbourhood. Mrs Tracey, exceptyour good selves," answered Drummond quietly. "So who could havesent a note here to be delivered by hand?"

"Well, evidently somebody did," I remarked. "And when MrsDrummond returns you'll find out who it was."

I spoke somewhat coldly: the man was becoming a bore.

"If she ever does return," he answered.

I regret to state that I laughed.

"My dear sir," I cried, "don't be absurd. You surely can'tbelieve, or expect us to believe, that some evilly-disposedpersons are abducting your wife in broad daylight and in themiddle of England?"

But he still stood there with that queer look on his face."Peter," he said, "I want to have a bit of a talk with you."

Darrell rose instantly, and the two of them strolled awaytogether. "Really," I remarked irritably, when they were out ofearshot, "the thing is perfectly preposterous. Is he doing it asa joke, or what?" Algy Longworth had joined them, and the threeof them were standing in the middle of the lawn talkingearnestly.

"I must say it does all seem very funny," agreed our hostess."And yet Captain Drummond isn't the sort of man to make stupidjokes of that sort."

"You mean," I said incredulously, "that he really believesthat someone may be abducting his wife? My dear Mary, don't be soridiculous. Why should anyone abduct his wife?"

"He's led a very strange life since the War," she answered. "Iconfess I don't know much about it myself—neither he norhis friends are very communicative. But I know he got mixed upwith a gang of criminals."

"I am not surprised," I murmured under my breath.

"I'm not very clear about what happened," went on Mary Tracey."But finally Captain Drummond was responsible somehow or otherfor the death of the leader of the gang. And a woman, who hadbeen this man's mistress, was left behind."

I stared at her: absurd, of course, but that bit of doggerelat the end of Kipling's verse came back to me. And then common-sense reasserted itself. This was England, not a country wheresecret societies nourished and strange vendettas took place. Thewhole thing was a mere coincidence. What connection could therepossibly be between the two men at the Cat and Custard Pot andthe fact that Mrs Drummond had gone out alone in a motor car?

"It seems," Mary Tracey was speaking again, "from what Billtells me, that this woman vowed vengeance on Captain Drummond. Iknow it sounds very fantastic, and I expect we shall all laughabout it when Phyllis gets back. And yet—" she hesitatedfor a moment. "Oh! I don't want to be silly, but I do wish she'dcome back soon."

"But, Mrs Tracey," said someone reassuringly, "there can be nodanger. What could happen to her?"

"I quite agree," I remarked. "If on every occasion a womanwent out alone in a motor car her friends and relations panickedabout her being abducted, life would become a hideousaffair."

And then by tacit consent the subject dropped, and wedispersed about our lawful occasions. I didn't see Drummond, butDarrell and Longworth were practising putting on the other sideof the lawn. I strolled over and joined them.

"Your large friend," I laughed, "seems to have put the wind upmost of the ladies in the party fairly successfully."

But they neither of them seemed to regard it as a subject formirth.

"Let us hope it will end at that," said Darrell gravely. "Iconfess that I have rarely been so uneasy in my life."

And that, mark you, from a man who played for Middlesex!Really, I reflected, the thing was ceasing to be funny. And I wasjust getting a suitable remark ready, when Longworth suddenlystraightened up and stared across the lawn. Bill Tracey wascoming towards us, and at his side was a police sergeant. AndBill Tracey's face was serious.

"Where's Drummond?" he called out.

"He said he was going to stroll down to the river," saidDarrell.

He cupped his mouth with his hands and let out a shout thatstartled the rooks for miles around. And very faintly from thedistance came an answering cry.

"What's happened?" he said curtly.

"I don't know," answered Bill uneasily. "Quite possibly it'scapable of some simple explanation. Apparently the Bentley hasbeen found empty. However, we'd better wait till Drummond comes,and then the sergeant can tell his story."

I noticed Darrell glance significantly at Longworth; then hecalmly resumed the study of a long putt. With a bang the ballwent into the hole, and he straightened himself up.

"My game, Algy. So Hugh was right: I was afraid of it. Here hecomes."

We watched him breasting the hill that led down to the river,running with the long, easy stride of the born athlete. And it'scurious how little things strike one at times. I remembernoticing as he came up that his breathing was as normal as myown, though he must have run the best part of a quarter of amile.

"What's up?" he said curtly, his eyes fixed on thesergeant.

"Are you Captain Drummond?" remarked the officer, producing anotebook.

"I am."

"Of 5a, Upper Brook Street?" He was reading these details fromthe book in his hand.

Drummond nodded. "Yes."

"You have a red Bentley car numbered ZZ 103?"

"I have," said Drummond.

With maddening deliberation the worthy sergeant replaced hisnotebook in his breast pocket. And another curious little thingstruck me: though Drummond must have been on edge with suspense,no sign of impatience showed in his face.

"Have you been out in that car today, sir?"

"I have not," said Drummond. "But my wife has."

"Was she alone, sir?"

"To the best of my belief she was," answered Drummond. "Sheleft here when I was down at the station in Mr Tracey's carmeeting this gentleman."

The sergeant nodded his head portentously. "Well, sir, I haveto report to you that your car has been found empty standing bythe side of the road not far from the village of Tidmarsh."

"How did you know I was here?" said Drummond quietly.

"The constable who found the car, sir, saw your name andaddress printed on a plate on the instrument board. So he went tothe nearest telephone and rang up your house in London. And yourservant told him you was stopping down here. So he rang up at thestation in Pangbourne."

"But why take all the trouble?" said Drummond even morequietly. "Surely there's nothing very extraordinary about anempty car beside the road?"

"No, sir," agreed the sergeant. "There ain't. That's true. Butthe constable further reported "—his voice wasgrave—"that he didn't like the look of the car. He said itstruck him that there had been some sort of struggle."

"I see," said Drummond. Quite calmly he turned to Darrell.

"Peter—your Sunbeam, and hump yourself. Algy—ringup Ted and Toby, and tell 'em they're wanted. Put up at thehotel. Sergeant—you come with me. Tracey, ring up therailway station and find out if two foreign-looking men have beenseen there this afternoon. If so, did they take tickets, and forwhat destination? Let's move."

And we moved. Gone in a flash was the large and apparentlybrainless ass; in his place was a man accustomed to lead, andaccustomed to instant obedience. Heaven knows why I got into theSunbeam: presumably because I was the only person who hadreceived no definite instructions. And Drummond evinced nosurprise when he found me sitting beside him in the back seat.The sergeant, a little dazed at such rapidity of action, was infront with Darrell, and except for him none of us even had ahat.

"Tell us the way. Sergeant," said Drummond, as we swungthrough the gates. "And let her out, Peter."

And Peter let her out. The worthy policeman gasped feebly onceor twice concerning speed limits, but no one took the faintestnotice, so that after a time he resigned himself to theinevitable and concentrated on holding on his hat. And I, havingno hat to hold on, concentrated on the man beside me.

He seemed almost unaware of my existence. He sat there,motionless save for the swaying of the car, staring in front ofhim. His face was set and grave, and every now and then he shookhis head as if he had arrived at an unpleasant conclusion in histrain of thought.

My own thoughts were frankly incoherent. Somehow or other Istill couldn't believe that the matter wasserious—certainly not as serious as Drummond seemed tothink. And yet my former scepticism was shaken, I confess. Ifwhat the sergeant said was right: if there were signs of astruggle in the car, it was undoubtedly sufficiently serious tomake it very unpleasant. But I still refused to believe that thewhole thing was not capable of some simple solution. A tramp,perhaps, seeing that an approaching car contained a woman alonehad stopped it by the simple expedient of standing in the middleof the road. Then he had attacked Mrs Drummond with the idea ofgetting her money.

Unpleasant, as I say—very unpleasant. But quiteordinary. A very different matter to all this absurd twaddleabout gangs of criminals and dead men's mistresses. Moreover, Ireflected, with a certain amount of satisfaction, there wasanother thing that proved my theory. On Drummond's own showing heattached considerable importance to the two foreign-looking menat the Cat and Custard Pot. Now it was utterly impossible thatthey could have had anything to do with it since they weresitting there in the garden at the very time that Mrs Drummondmust have left Tracey's house in the car. Which completelyknocked Drummond's conclusion on the head. The whole thing wassimply a coincidence, and I said as much to the man beside me. Helistened in silence.

"Ever been ratting?" he asked when I'd finished.

Once more did I stare at this extraordinary individual inamazement. What on earth had that got to do with it?

"Well—have you?" he repeated when I didn't answer.

"In the days of my youth I believe I did," I answered. "Thoughthe exact bearing of a boyish pastime on the point at issue is alittle obscure."

"Then it oughtn't to be," he remarked curtly. "It's onlyobscure because your grey matter is torpid. When a party of yougo ratting, you put a bloke at every hole you know of before youstart to bolt your rats."

He relapsed again into silence, and so did I. The confoundedfellow seemed to have an answer for everything. And then justahead of us we saw the deserted car.

A constable was standing beside it, and a group of four orfive children were looking on curiously. It stood some three orfour feet from the left-hand side of the road, so that there wasonly just room for another car to pass. And the road itself atthis point ran through a small wood—barely more than acopse.

"You've moved nothing. Constable?" said the sergeant.

"Just as I found it. Sergeant."

We crowded round the car and looked inside. It was an ordinaryopen touring model, and it was obvious at once that there weresigns which indicated a struggle. The rug, for instance, insteadof being folded, was half over the front seat and half in theback of the car. A lady's handkerchief, crumpled up, was lyingjust behind the steering-wheel, and one of the covers which wasfastened to the upholstery by means of press studs, was partiallywrenched off. It was the cover for of the side doors, andunderneath it was a pocket for maps and papers.

"This is your car, sir?" asked the sergeant formally.

"It is," said Drummond, and once more we fell silent.

There was something sinister about that deserted car. One feltan insane longing that the rug could speak, that a thrush singingin the drowsy heat on a tree close by could tell us what hadhappened. Its head, of course, was pointed away from Pangbourne,and suddenly Drummond gave an exclamation. He was looking at theroad some fifteen yards in front of the bonnet.

At first I noticed nothing, though my sight is as good as mostmen's. And it wasn't until I got close to the place that I couldsee what had attracted his attention. Covered with dust was apool of black lubricating oil—and covered so well that onlythe sharpest eye would have detected it.

"That accounts for one thing, anyway," said Drummondquietly.

"What is that, sir?" remarked the sergeant, with considerablerespect in his voice. I was evidently not the only one who hadbeen impressed with the keenness of Drummond's sight.

"I know my wife's driving better than anybody else," heanswered, "and, under normal circ*mstances, if she pulled up, shewould instinctively get into the side of the road. So the firstquestion I asked myself was why she had stopped with the carwhere it is. She was either following another car which pulled upin front of her, or she came round the corner and found itstationary in the middle of the road, not leaving her room topass. And the owners of the car that did not leave her room topass wanted to conceal the fact that they had been here, ifpossible. So, finding they had leaked oil, they tried to cover itup. God! if only the Bentley could talk."

It was over in a moment—that sudden, natural spasm offeeling, and he was the same cool, imperturbable man again. And Ifelt my admiration for him growing. Criminal gangs or no criminalgangs, it's a damnable thing to stand on the spot where an houror two earlier your wife has been the victim of some dastardlyoutrage, and feel utterly impotent to do anything.

"Do you think it's possible to track that car?" said Darrell.We walked along the road for a considerable distance, but it wassoon obvious that the idea was impossible. Far too much traffichad been along previously, and since there had been no rain thechance of following some distinctive tyre marking had gone."Hopeless," said Drummond heavily. "Absolutely hopeless. Hullo!one of those kids has found something."

They were running towards us in a body led by a little boy whowas waving some object in his hand.

"Found this, governor, in the grass beside the road," he pipedout.

"My God!" said Drummond, staring at it with dilated eyes.

For "this" was a large spanner, and one end was stained a dullred. Moreover, the red was still damp, and when he touched it, itcame off on his finger. Blood. And the question which rose in allof our minds, and the question which none of us dared to answerwas—Whose? I say, none of us dared to answer it out loud. Ithink we all of us had answered it to ourselves.

"You don't recognize the spanner, I suppose, sir?" said thesergeant. "Is it one from your car or not?"

"I do recognize it," answered Drummond. "It's the regular setspanner I keep in the pocket with the maps and papers and not inthe toolbox, because it fits the nut of the petrol tank."

"The pocket that was wrenched open," I put in, and henodded.

"Show us just where you found it, nipper," said the sergeant,and we all trooped back to the Bentley.

"Here, sir," said the urchin. "Behind that there stone." Hewas pointing to a place just about level with the bonnet, and itrequired no keenness of vision such as had been necessary to spotthe dust-covered pool of oil to see the next clue. From the stonewhere the spanner had been found to a point in the grass oppositewhere the other car must have stood, there stretched a continuoustrail of ominous red spots. Some were big, and some were small,but the line was unbroken. Blood once again—and once againthe same unspoken question.

"Well, sir," said the sergeant gravely, "it's obvious thatthere has been foul play. I think the best thing I can do is toget back to the station and phone Scotland Yard. We want alookout kept all over the country for a motorcar containing awounded lady."

Drummond gave a short laugh.

"Don't be too sure of that, sergeant," he remarked. "It wasonly my wife who knew where that spanner was kept. I should bemore inclined, if I were you, to keep a lookout for a motorcontaining a wounded man. Though I tell you candidly if thisthing is what I think it is—or, rather, what I know itis—you're wasting your time."

And not another word would he say.

III. — IN WHICH I GET IT INTHE NECK

It was hopeless, of course, as I think we allrealized from the beginning. But it was impossible to sit stilland do nothing. And for the rest of that afternoon, until longpast the time for dinner, we scoured the country. Drummond drovethe Bentley alone—he was in no mood for talking—and Iwent with Darrell.

It was in the course of that wearisome and fruitless searchthat I began to understand things a little more clearly. Mycompanion amplified Mary Tracey's vague remarks, until I began toask myself if I was dreaming. That this affair was the work of noordinary person was obvious, but for a long time I believed thathe must be exaggerating. Some of the things he told me soundedtoo incredible.

They concerned a man called Carl Peterson, who, it appeared,had been the head of the gang our hostess had alluded to. Thisman was none other than Wilmot, of airship fame. I, naturally,remembered the name perfectly—just as I remembered thedestruction of his airship, mercifully after all the passengershad disembarked. Wilmot himself was killed—burned to death,as were the rest of the crew.

And here was Darrell, in the most calm and matter-of-fact way,stating something completely different.

"I was one of the passengers that night," he said. "I know.Wilmot—or, rather Peterson, as we prefer to callhim—was not burned to death. He was killed byDrummond."

"Killed!" I gasped. "Good God! what for?"

Darrell smiled grimly.

"It was long overdue," he answered. "But that was the firstopportunity there had been of actually doing it."

"And this woman knows that he killed him?" I said.

"No—and yes," he said. "She was not there at the time,but four days later she met Drummond by the wreckage of theairship. And she told him the exact hour when Peterson had died.I don't know how to account for it. Some form of telepathy, Isuppose. She also told him that they would meet again. And thisis the beginning of the meeting."

"So that verse was sent by her, was it?"

He nodded.

"But it seems rather an extraordinary thing to do," Ipersisted. "Why go out of your way to warn a person?"

"She is rather an extraordinary woman," he answered. "She isalso a most terribly dangerous one. Like all women who have akink, they are more extreme than men. And I don't mind tellingyou, Dixon, that I'm positively sick with anxiety over this show.An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth—you know the oldtag? I'm afraid it's going to be a life for a life."

"You mean they may kill Mrs Drummond?" I cried in horror.

"Just that and nothing more," he said gravely. "Drummondkilled her lover: she will kill his wife. She would have no morescruples over so doing than you would have over treading on awasp. The only thing is—does it suit her book? Is she goingto try and get Drummond into her power by using his wife as alever? And only time will tell us that."

"What sort of a woman is she?" I said curiously.

"To look at she is tall, dark, and very soignée. She'shandsome rather than pretty, and I should think has some Southernblood in her." He smiled slightly. "But don't run away with theimpression that she'd be likely to look like that if you met her.Far more probably would she be a wizened-up crone covered withspectacles, or a portly dame with creaking corsets. So much forher appearance. Her character is a thing to stand aghast at. Shehas the criminal instinct developed to its highest degree: she isabsolutely without mercy: she is singularly able. How much, ofcourse, was her and how much Carl Peterson in the old days is athing I don't know. But even if it was him principally, to startwith, she must have profited considerably by seeing him at work.And a final point which is just as important if not more so thanthose I've already given, she must be a very wealthy woman.Peterson's life was not a wasted one as far as other people'smoney was concerned."

"It sounds a tough proposition," I murmured.

"It is," he agreed gravely. "A damned tough proposition. Infact, Dixon, there is only one ray of sunshine that I can see inthe whole business. To do them both justice, in the past theyhave never been crude in their methods. In their own peculiar waythey had a sense of art. If that sense of art is stronger nowwith her than her primitive desire for revenge, there'shope."

"I don't quite follow," I said.

"She will play the fish—the fish being us. To kill MrsDrummond offhand would be crude."

"I fail to see much comfort," I remarked, "in being played ifthe result is going to be the same. It's only prolonging theagony."

"Quite so," he said quietly, "but is the result going to bethe same?"

A peculiar smile flickered for a moment round his lip.

"You probably think I'm talking rot," he went on. "At least,that I'm exaggerating grossly."

"Well," I admitted, "it's all a little hard to follow."

"Naturally. You've never struck any of these people before. Wehave. We met them quite by accident at first, and since thenwe've almost become old friends. We know their ways: they knowours. Sometimes we've fought with the police on our side:sometimes we've fought a lone hand. And up to date on balance wehave won hands down. That is why I cannot help feeling—atany rate hoping—that this woman would not regard the slateas being dean if she merely killed Mrs Drummond. It has been ourwits against theirs up till now. She wants much fuller revengethan such a crude action as that would afford her."

"I am glad you feel optimistic over the prospect," I murmured."Chacun à son goût."

"Of course," he went on thoughtfully, "I may be wrong. Ifso—it's hopeless from the start. They've got Drummond'swife: if they want to they can kill her right away. But somehowor other—"

He broke off, staring at the road ahead. The light was of thathalf-and-half description when headlamps are useless and drivingis most difficult.

"Anyway, I'm afraid this is a pretty hopeless quest," I said."We don't even know what sort of a car we are lookingfor—"

He touched the accelerator with his foot.

"What's that dark thing there beside the road?" he said. "It'sa car right enough, and you never can tell."

We drew up beside it, and the first thing I noticed was a poolof lubricating oil in the road, under the back axle. Only acoincidence, of course, I reflected, but I felt a sudden tingleof excitement. Could it possibly be the car we were lookingfor?

We got out and walked up to it. The car was empty—theblinds of the back windows drawn down. "We'd better be careful,"I said a little nervously, "the owner may be in the field."

"On the other hand, he may not," said Darrell coolly, andopened the door.

It was an ordinary standard limousine, and at first sightthere seemed nothing out of the normal to be seen. There was nosign of disorder, as there had been in the Bentley: the rug onthe seat was carefully folded. And it was almost mechanicallythat I opened one of the back doors, to stand nearly frozen withhorror at what I saw. The covering of the front bucket seatbeside the driver's was saturated with blood from the top rightdown to the floorboards.

"Good God!" I muttered, "look here."

Darrell came and looked over my shoulder, and I heard himcatch his breath sharply.

"This evidently," he remarked, "is the car we are after.There's a torch in the pocket of the Sunbeam: get it, like a goodfellow."

By its light we examined the stain more closely. The averagewidth was about six inches, though it narrowed off towards thebottom. But one very peculiar point about it was that near thetop were a number of strange loops and smears, stretching awayout of the main stream. They were the sort of smears that a childmight make who had dipped its fingers in the blood, and had thenstarted to draw patterns.

"The person who sat in this seat must have bled like a pig,"said Darrell gravely. "From a wound in the head obviously."

Whose head? Who was it who had sat in the seat? Once again thesame ghastly question, unasked and unanswered, save in our ownminds. But I remember that to me all his hopes and ideas aboutcrudeness and art suddenly became rather pitiful. To me thereseemed no doubt who it was who had sat in that seat. And I feltthankful that Drummond wasn't there with us.

One could picture the poor girl sitting there, probablyunconscious, with the blood welling out from some terrible woundin her head, while the devil beside her drove remorselessly on. Ahideous thought, but what alternative was there?

"What do you make of it, Dixon?"

Darrell's voice cut into my thoughts.

"I'm afraid it's pretty obvious," I said. "And I'm afraid itrather disposes of your hopes as to crudity and art. This is thecrudest and most brutal attack on a woman, that's all."

"You think so?" he said thoughtfully, "And yet it's all alittle difficult to understand. Why did they stop here? What hasbecome of them?"

"It's a road without much traffic," I answered. "Probably theychanged into another car to put people still more off the scent.Don't forget that if they had garaged this car anywhere for thenight they would have had some pretty awkward questions toanswer."

"That's true," he agreed. "And yet it presupposes that thething had been arranged beforehand."

"It probably was," I pointed out. "They were anyway going tochange cars, and the fact that the poor girl was so terriblywounded did not make them alter their plans."

"But why mess up two cars?" he argued. "That's what I can'tget at."

He once more switched the torch on to the stained cover.

"You know," he said, "those loops and smears puzzle me. Whaton earth can have caused them? What possible agency can have madethat stream of blood divert itself like that? Hold the torch amoment, will you? I'm going to copy them into a notebook."

"My dear fellow," I remarked, "what on earth is the use? Do itif you like, but I should say that the best thing we can do is tomake tracks for the nearest police station and give them thenumber of this car. We want to find the owner."

"It won't take a moment," he said, "and then we'll push off.There—is that about right?"

He handed me his rough sketch: a copy of it is before me, as Iwrite.

[The book here includes a picture of a scrawled message]

"Yes," I remarked, "that's pretty well how it looks. But I'mafraid it's not going to help us much."

"You never can tell," he answered. "Those marks didn't comethere accidentally—that I swear. It's a message of sorts:I'm certain of it."

"It may be a message, but it's absolute gibberish," Iretorted. "Now don't you think we'd better push on to a policestation. I've got the number of this car—ZW 3214."

He looked at me thoughtfully.

"Can you drive my Sunbeam?" he said.

"I blush to admit it," I answered, "but I'm one of thoseextraordinary people who have never driven a car in my life."

"That's a pity," he remarked. "Because I was going to proposethat I stopped here while you went. I think one of us ought toremain in case anything happens."

"Good God!" I said, "hasn't enough happened already? However,I don't mind staying. Only get a move on: I'm beginning to feellike dinner."

"Stout fellow," he cried. "I'll be as quick as I possiblycan."

He got into his car, and in half a minute was out ofsight.

Now as I have already explained I am not one of thosefortunate individuals to whom battle, murder, and sudden deathcome as the zest of life. And honesty compels me to admit that atno period of my career have I more bitterly regretted not havinghad lessons in driving. Moreover, I am essentially a town man:the country always seems to me to be so full of strange noises.Especially at night—and it was dark by now.

I lit a cigarette—quite unaware of the horror with whichDrummond would have viewed such a proceeding. To see and not beseen, to hear and not be heard, was a dictum of his I was tolearn later.

All sorts of weird whispering sounds came to my ears as Istood there beside the car. And once I gave a terrific start as ashrill scream came from the field close by.

"An animal," I reflected angrily. "A. rabbit caught by astoat. Don't be such a fool."

I began pacing up and down the middle of the road, consciousof an absurd desire for someone to speak to, even if it was onlyan inebriated farm labourer. And then by way of forcingdiscipline on my mind, I made myself go over the whole amazingbusiness from the beginning.

What was the letter that had made Mrs Drummond leave thehouse? Where did the two men at the Cat and Custard Pot come in?Why had this car stopped here and what had happened after? Andfinally those strange smears. Were they indeed some message, andif so who had written it? Was it that poor girl trying to writesome final communication as she felt her life slipping away fromher?

My thoughts turned to Drummond, and I felt most bitterly sorryfor my earlier sarcasm. Still, there had been some excuse: I defyany ordinary person to have viewed his behaviour without feelingsome doubts as to his sanity. The fact remained, however, that Iowed him the most abject apology. Not that my apology would bemuch use to the poor devil in exchange for his wife.

I ground my cigarette out with my heel, and stared down theroad. Surely it was about time for Darrell to get back. And as Istood there leaning against the bonnet, a bird got up with asharp cry from a point in the hedge some hundred yards away. Itwas the cry of sudden alarm from which a poacher might have readmuch, but I read nothing.

And then a twig cracked: I heard it distinctly and stiffened.Another—and yet another, whilst I stood there motionlesspeering into the darkness. Did my eyes deceive me, or was theresomething dark moving cautiously along the grass beside the road,in the shadow of the hedge? I recalled times in France whenstrange things took shape in No-Man's-Land: when men became asbushes and bushes as men. And putting my hand to my forehead Ifound it was wet with sweat.

I listened again: all was silent. The stealthy mover, if therewas a mover, was moving no more. My imagination probably, andwith a shaking hand I extracted my cigarette case. Damn it! whatwas there to be frightened at?

"Lawks sakes—look at this 'ere!"

The voice came from the hedge not ten yards away, and in myfright I dropped my case in the road. Then with an effort Ipulled myself together: to be frightened at my time of life by amere yokel was not good for one's pride.

"Look 'e 'ere, mister."

"Where are you?" I said. "I can't see you."

The fellow gave a cackling laugh which made me think he wasnot quite right in his head. And then came another remark whichcaused me to start forward in horror.

"A dead 'un."

"Where?" I cried, moving towards him slowly. My mouth feltsuddenly dry. It required all my will power to force myself togo. I knew what I was going to see: I knew that there in thedarkness just ahead of me I would find some half-witted yokelstaring inquisitively at the body of the unfortunate girl. Therewould be a terrible wound in her head, and at each step I took myreluctance increased. I loathed the thought of having definiteproof: up to date there had been a doubt, however shadowy.

"Where?" I said thickly, once again, and then I saw him justin front. His back was towards me, and he was bending oversomething that lay in the ditch close to the hedge. He waschuckling to himself in an idiotic way, and I heard a voice croakat him: "Shut up!" It was my own.

I reached his side, and bent over, too. And for a moment ortwo I stood there staring, hardly able to believe my eyes. True,a body was there, lying in that peculiar twisted position whichtells its own tale. True, there was a terrible wound in the head,dearly visible even in the darkness. But it was not a woman; itwas a man. And the feeling of relief was stupendous.

I turned to the yokel foolishly: turned and froze intoimmobility. The idiotic chuckling had ceased, and the face thatwas thrust near mine wore a sarcastic smile.

"Too easy," he remarked.

A pair of hands fastened on my throat, and I began to struggledesperately. Dimly I realized that it was a trap: that the manhad been acting a part so as to draw me into an advantageousposition in which to attack me. And then all other thoughts wereblotted out by the appalling knowledge that as far as strengthwent I was a child in his hands. There was a roaring in my ears,a ghastly tightness in my throat. And I remember that my lastcoherent thought before I became unconscious was that if Drummondhad been in my place the result would have been verydifferent.

It was fitting, therefore, that the first man I should seewhen I opened my eyes was Drummond himself. For a moment or two Icouldn't remember what had happened, and I stared foolishlyaround. I was lying on the grass beside the road, and my head andcoat were sopping wet. Drummond with Darrell and another man werestanding close to me in the light of the headlamps of a car.

"Hullo!" I said feebly.

They swung round.

"Hullo! little man," said Drummond. "You gave us a nastyshock. What fun and laughter have you been engaged in?"

"Where's the dead man?" I cried, sitting up.

They all stared at me.

"What's that?" said Drummond slowly. "A dead man, yousay?"

I struggled to my feet, and stood swaying dizzily.

"Steady, old man," said Drummond. "Easy does it."

"There was a dead man," I repeated, and then I stared round."Where's the other car?"

"Precisely," agreed Drummond. "Where is it? It wasn't herewhen we arrived."

"Not here," I repeated stupidly, "I don't understand. What'shappened?"

"That's easily told," said Drummond. "By mere chance I raninto Peter at the police station, and when I heard what you'dfound I came along with him and this officer. We must have gonehalf a mile beyond here before he knew we'd gone too far. So weturned and came back. And the pool of oil told us where the carhad been. Peter knew you couldn't drive, so we thought you musthave been abducted in the car. And then quite by chance theofficer found you in the ditch. You looked like a goner at first,but we sluiced you with cold water, and you'll be as fit as atrivet in a minute or two. When you do let's hear what happenedto you."

"I'm all right now," I said. "A bit dizzy, that's all. Let mesit down in the car for a little."

It was quite true. My head was quite clear, and, except for amost infernally stiff neck, I felt none the worse for myexperience. And I told them exactly what had taken place. Theylistened in silence, and it was only when I hesitated a littleover saying who it was I had expected to find in the ditch thatDrummond spoke.

"I understand," he said curtly. "Go on."

I finished my story, and then he spoke again.

"If any confirmation is needed," he remarked, "the ditchshould supply it. Where was the body lying?"

I got out of the car and led them to the spot. As he had said,the ditch did supply it. A great pool of blood showed up red andsinister in the light of Darrell's torch, but of the body of theman whose blood it was there was no trace.

"So what happened," said Drummond thoughtfully, "is fairlyeasy to spot. But the reason for it is a little more obscure. Thegentleman who caressed your windpipe had evidently been sent backto retrieve car and corpse. Finding you here he gave you thenecessary medicine. Then he removed corpse in car. But if thatwas the great idea, why were car and corpse left here in thefirst place?"

"Would you recognize the man who attacked you, sir?" said thepolice officer, speaking for the first time.

"I think I'd recognise him," I said, "but I couldn't give youa description of him that would be the slightest help."

"Well, there doesn't seem much use our standing here anymore," remarked Drummond at length, and his voice was weary. "Weknow the number of the car, so the owner can be traced. But Ishall be very much surprised if we find that helps us much."

He sighed, and lit a cigarette. "Come on, Peter, we'd betterbe getting back. My stomach is flapping against my backbone forwant of food, and we can't do any more good here."

And I, for one, agreed with him fervently.

IV. — IN WHICH WE GET THESEMBLANCE OF A CLUE

Looking back on it now after the lapse of time,I find it hard to recall my exact state of mind that night. Iremember that amongst certain members of the house party I foundmyself in the position of a popular hero. To have been assaultedand left for dead conferred an air of distinction on me which Ifound rather grateful and comforting. The tacit assumption seemedto be that only abnormal strength of constitution on my part hadsaved my life.

I also remember experiencing a distinct feeling of pique thatamongst other members of the party my adventure seemed to cut noice at all. They appeared to regard it as the most ordinary thingin the world. Two new arrivals had come—the two whomLongworth had been told to summon under the names of Ted andToby. Their surnames were respectively Jerningham and Sinclair,and Tracey had managed to squeeze them into the house. And it wasin describing the events of the afternoon and evening to thesetwo that the point of view of this second section of the partybecame obvious. Not, I mean, that I wished it to be exaggeratedin any way: at the same time I admit that I felt, when all wassaid and done, that whilst Drummond and Darrel had been inperfect safety at a police-station, I had had a murderous assaultmade on my life. And to have it described by Darrell as getting aclip over the earhole struck me as somewhat inadequate. Thereplies of the audience also left, I thought, a certain amount tobe desired.

Jerningham said: "Pity you didn't ladle the bloke oneback."

Sinclair said: "Splendid! So we know one of them by sight,anyway."

Then they all dismissed the matter as trifling, and resumedthe interminable discussion. Not that I minded, youunderstand—but it struck me that it showed a slight lack ofa proper sense of proportion.

However, I waived the matter: it was not my wife who had beenforcibly dragged from her car in broad daylight. Had it been Ishould have been insane with worry. And that was theextraordinary thing about Drummond. Outwardly he seemed the mostself-possessed of us all, and only the strained look in his eyesshowed the mental condition he was in.

Bill Tracey was absolutely beside himself. That such a thingshould have happened in his house made him almost incoherent. Andit was characteristic of Drummond that, in spite of his ownagonising suspense, he should have gone out of his way to easethings for Bill.

"My dear fellow," he said more than once, "please don't blameyourself. The fact that it happened to take place here is nothingwhatever to do with you. They waited till they were ready andthen they struck. That they happened to become ready when we werestaying with you is just pure chance."

Which, though perfectly true, did but little to alleviate hisfeelings of responsibility. It was his house, and the bald factremained that one of his guests, and a woman at that, had beendecoyed away from it and been made the victim of foul play. Andapart from his natural grief at such a thing happening, theprospect of the notoriety involved concerned him, of course, morethan any of us save Drummond himself. It was Jerningham whosummarized the situation after a while.

"Let's just see," he said, "that we've got this thing clear.Whilst playing tennis this afternoon Phyllis got a note deliveredby hand of such importance that she stops playing and goes outalone in the Bentley. At that time Hugh was having a bit of backchat with the two foreign-looking blokes—"

"Who have not been traced at the railway station," put inTracey.

"Who have since disappeared," went on Jerningham. "But it isgenerally agreed that they had something to do with it, thoughwhat we don't know. Shortly after, the Bentley is found deserted,showing every sign of having been the scene of a struggle."

"She dotted him one, Ted," said Drummond with certainty. "Shedotted him good and hard with that spanner. In fact she killedhim—glory be to Allah!"

They pondered this point in silence for a while.

"It stands to reason, old boy," went on Drummond, "that theman Dixon saw lying in the ditch is the same man whose trail wefollowed on the grass beside the Bentley."

"Very well then," said Jerningham, "make it so. She dotted himone. Finding herself suddenly attacked she out with the spannerand slogged him good and hard. So then the otherbloke—there must have been at least one more—bungedPhyllis into the back of the other car, stuffed his pal into theseat beside him, and pushed off."

"It don't sound right to me, Ted," said Drummond slowly.

"What's wrong?" demanded Jerningham.

"All the last part. If you were driving a motorcar in broaddaylight, and had to take with you a fellow who was bleeding likea pig from a wound in the head, would you put him on the seatbeside you? Especially if you did not want to draw attention toyourself."

He took a long gulp of beer.

"Not so, old lad: you'd bung him on the floor at the back. Andfrom Peter's description of the blood in the car that's whathappened. If he'd been sitting in the seat beside the driver, thefront of it would have been stained, too. It wasn't—onlythe back."

"I don't see that it matters much, anyway," I remarked. "Backor front the result is the same. Perhaps Mrs Drummond was besidethe driver."

"Good Lord!" said Drummond, sitting up and staring at me. "Ihadn't thought of that. Perhaps she was."

"What's stung you?" said Darrell, surprised, and we all lookedat him curiously. He seemed strangely excited.

"Supposing Phyllis was sitting in that seat," he remarked."Supposing the man was bleeding to death behind. Supposing shemanaged to get her hand over the back of the seat, with the ideaof getting some message through by dipping her finger in theblood and writing on the cover."

His excitement infected us all though, for the life of me, Icouldn't see what he was getting at.

"Well—get on with it," said Darrell.

"Don't you see that the writing would be upside down?" criedDrummond. "Where's your notebook, Peter? Turn the page the otherway round."

We crowded over his shoulder and stared at the roughsketch.

"It is," shouted Drummond. "Smeared letters, or I'll eat myhat. There's a K there: two K's. And L: and E. What's that firstword? Something KE... LUKE is it?

"Like," I hazarded. "That first letter might be L."

"Then it's LIKE LAK," said Drummond, and we stared at oneanother a little blankly. If that was the solution it didn't seemto advance us much. Like Lak. It was meaningless. Probably notrealizing that it was useless the message had continued into thestream of blood where it had been obliterated. But that was nohelp.

"Anyway," said Drummond quietly, "it proves one thing. Shewasn't unconscious."

He got up and went to the open window, where he stood with hisback to us, staring out into the darkness. His shoulders were alittle bowed: his hands were in his pockets. And, by Jove! I feltfor the poor chap. Somewhere out under those samestars—perhaps twenty miles away, perhaps ahundred—his wife was in the hands of this infamous gang.Up-to-date, action had kept him going, even if it had onlyconsisted of futile motoring up and down roads. Now the time offorced inaction had come. There was nothing to distract histhoughts, nothing to take his mind off the ghastly possibilitiesof the situation.

There was no use sympathizing with him: the matter had passedbeyond words. Besides, it struck me that he was of the brand thatis apt to shy away from sympathy like a frightened colt. And sowe sat on in silence, hardly daring to meet one another's eyes,with the same fear clutching at all our hearts. It didn't seem tomatter very much whether or not Mrs Drummond had been consciousin the car. Was she conscious now? Was she even alive? It seemedtoo incredible to be sitting there in that peaceful roomcontemplating such an appalling thought. And yet what was thereto be done? That was the maddening part of it. Literally the onlyclue in our possession was the number of the car—ZW 3214.It was true that I might recognize the man who had nearlythrottled me, but even on that point I felt doubtful. And thatwasn't going to be much use unless I saw him again.

The same applied to the two men at the Cat and Custard Pot.Both Drummond and I would recognize them again—but wherewere they? And even if they were found they would probably proveto be only very minor characters in the caste. The telephone onTracey's desk rang suddenly, sounding unnaturally loud in thesilence, and we looked at it almost apprehensively. Was it somefurther complication, or was it news?

"Hullo!" said Tracey, picking up the receiver."Yes—speaking."

Drummond had swung round, his hands still in his pockets. Andhe stood there, his face expressionless, while the metallic voicefrom the machine, punctuated by occasional grunts from our host,droned on. At last Tracey replaced the receiver, and shook hishead gloomily.

"Nothing, I'm afraid," he said. "It was the police. They'vetraced the car, and it belongs to a man called Allbright inReading. He's a retired grocer, and absolutely above suspicion.He is away from home at the moment, and the car must have beencoolly stolen from his garage this morning. He has a deafhousekeeper, who is also above suspicion, and who was in completeignorance that the car had gone until visited by the police thisevening."

Once more silence fell on the room, and Drummond, with thefaintest perceptible shrug of his shoulders, again turned hisback on us and stared into the darkness. Our only positive cluegone—or at any rate valueless, the outlook blacker, ifpossible, than before. The butler brought in a tray of drinks andTracey waved his hand at it mechanically.

"Help yourselves," he remarked, but nobody moved.

And then at last Drummond spoke. His back was still towardsus: his voice was perfectly quiet. "This situation is tooimpossible to continue," he said. "Something is bound to happensoon."

And as if in answer to his remark the telephone bell jangled asecond time.

"I told you so," he said calmly. "This is news."

Tracey had again taken the receiver: and again we watched himwith a kind of feverish anxiety. Was Drummond right? Or was itsome further futile communication from the police?

"A lady wishes to speak to you, Drummond," said Tracey, andthe tension suddenly became acute. "She won't give her name."

Drummond went to the instrument, and we waited breathlessly.And if there is a more maddening proceeding during a time ofsuspense than having to listen to one end of a telephoneconversation I have yet to experience it. We heard the metallicvoice of the other speaker; we saw Drummond give anuncontrollable start, and then freeze into absoluteimmobility.

"So it is you," he said in a low voice. "Where isPhyllis?"

Again that metallic voice, and then quite clearly a laugh.

"Damn you," said Drummond, still in the same quiet tone. "Whathave you done with her?"

This time the voice went on for nearly a minute, and all wecould do was to watch the changing expressions on his face andtry to imagine what was causing them. Anger, bewilderment, andfinally blank surprise were all registered, and it was the latterwhich remained when the voice ceased.

"But look here!" he cried. "Are you there? Damn it—she'sgone!"

He rang the bell furiously for the Exchange.

"Where did that last call come from?" he asked. "London. Canyou possible get me the number?"

We waited eagerly, only to see him lay down the receiverwearily.

"The public callbox at Piccadilly Circus," he said.

"It was Irma?" almost shouted Darrell.

"Yes—it was."

He stood there frowning, and we waited eagerly.

"It was that she-cat right enough. I'd know her voiceanywhere. And she's got some dirty game up her sleeve."

"What did she say?" asked someone.

"She first of all said that she was charmed to renew heracquaintance with Phyllis, and that it seemed quite like oldtimes. She went on to say that so far she had only been able tohave a very brief chat with her, but that she hoped for many morein the near future. She was sure I would like to know that shewas unhurt, but how long that condition of affairs lasteddepended on me entirely. That I should have a letter from her inthe morning making things quite clear, and that all she couldadvise me to do for the present was to have a good night in. Thenshe rang off."

"Well—that's something," said Darrell. "We know she'sunhurt."

"Yes—I don't think she would lie," agreed Drummond. "Butwhat's she getting at? How can it depend on me?"

"That seems fairly obvious," said Jerningham gravely. "You'regoing to be put through it, old man, and if you don't play nicelyPhyllis is going to suffer. There's no good not facing facts, andshe's got you by the short hairs."

Drummond sat down heavily.

"I suppose you're right," he said slowly. "I'll doanything— anything. I wanted to ask her tonight if shewould take me instead of Phyllis, but she'd rung off."

Darrell laughed shortly.

"I don't think the answer would have been very satisfactoryeven if she hadn't," he said. "You're not a very comfortableperson to have about the house, old boy."

"Hell!" said Drummond tersely.

Then he stood up, and the expression on his face made me feelprofoundly thankful that I was never likely to come up againsthim.

"I'm going to take one of your boats, Tracey," he remarked."Don't wait up for me: I shan't go to bed tonight."

The next moment he had vanished through the open window.

"Poor devil," said Bill. "I'm sorry for him. But I don't seethat there's anything to be done."

"There isn't," said Darrell. "We can only wait for this lettertomorrow morning."

He helped himself to a whiskey and soda, and I followed hisexample. That was all we could do—wait for the letter. Butit was impossible to prevent oneself speculating on the contents.What test was Drummond going to be put to? Was he going to betold to commit some crime? Some robbery possibly with his wife'ssafety depending on his success? What a ghastly predicament to bein! To have to run the risk of a long term of imprisonment, orelse to know that he was putting his wife in danger. And even ifhe ran the risk how could he be sure that the others would stickto their side of the bargain? Avowedly they were criminals of theworst type, so what reliance could possible be put on theirword?

The others had gone off to the billiard room, leaving Traceyand me alone. And suddenly the utter incredibility of the wholesituation came over me in a wave. Not twelve hours ago had I beensitting peacefully in my club, earnestly discussing with thesecretary whether the new brandy was as good as the last lot. Hehad said yes: I had disagreed. And it had seemed a very importantmatter.

I laughed: and he looked up at me quickly. "I don't seeanything very humorous in the situation," he remarked.

I laughed again. "No more do I, Bill, not really. But it hadjust occurred to me that if I was suddenly transported to thesmoking-room of the club, and I told the occupants that since Ilast saw them a lady had been kidnapped from your house, I hadfound a dead man in a ditch, and finally had been nearly murderedfor my pains—they might not believe me."

He grunted. "You're right," he said. "They might not. At timesI hardly believe it myself. Damn this accursed womanIrma—or whatever she calls herself!" He mixed himself adrink savagely. "We're going to have hordes of newspaper menround the place, poking their confounded noses into everything.And, being Whitsuntide, they'll probably run special steamers toview the scene of the crime. I tell you, Joe, I wouldn't have hadit happen for worlds. Of course I'm very sorry forDrummond—but I wish it had taken place somewhere else."

"Naturally," I agreed. "At the same time. Bill, don't forgetthat everything that happened did take place somewhere else. Thedead man I found was twelve miles from here—and he hassince disappeared. The car has disappeared, too. In fact there'snothing to connect the matter with this house."

"What do you mean?" he said. "Nothing to connect it with thishouse! What about Mrs. Drummond? Wasn't she staying here?"

"She was—undoubtedly. But hasn't it occurred toyou—mind you, I only put it forward as apossibility—that Drummond may be compelled by the gang whohave got her to keep the fact of her disappearance quiet?"

"But the police know it already," he cried.

"They know she went out in a car, and that the car was foundempty. That does not necessarily mean that she has disappeared.We know she has, but that's a very different matter. And if, as Isurmise, Drummond is going to be ordered to commit a crime as theprice for his wife's life—or at any rate safety—thefirst essential is that he should keep the police out of it asmuch as possible."

"Commit a crime!" He stared at me for a moment or two and thenput down his glass on the table. "You really think that that isgoing to be the next move?"

"I don't know any more than you do," I said. "The whole thingis so absolutely amazing that no ordinary rules seem to apply. Ifthey had murdered the poor girl outright as an act of revenge itwould at any rate have been understandable. But this newdevelopment can only mean that they are going to put pressure onhim through his wife."

"Well, I must frankly admit," he said at length, "that theless that is known about this affair the better I shall bepleased. At the same time I'd hate to know that Drummond wasrunning round the country robbing churches or something of thatsort."

He paused, struck by a sudden thought.

"It might be a case, not of blackmail exactly, but of ransom.On the payment of a sum of money she will be returned."

"Is he a wealthy man?" I asked.

"Quite well off. Do you think that's the solution, Joe?"

"My dear old man," I cried, "ask me another. I don't thinkI've ever been so hopelessly at sea in my life. I shall put acold compress round my neck, and go to bed. Presumably all ourquestions will be answered tomorrow morning."

And to bed I went—but not to sleep. Try as I would Icould not stop thinking about the affair. That last idea of BillTracey's had a good deal to be said for it. And what would happenif Drummond wouldn't pay—or couldn't? People of the type wewere up against were not likely to ask a small sum.

Would they go on keeping her a prisoner until he had scrapedtogether the money? Or would they murder her? I shuddered at thethought: this was England, not a bandit-infested desert. Theywould never dare to run such an appalling risk. They mightthreaten, of course, but at that it would stop. And then as if tomock me I saw once again that evil face with its cynical smile,heard that voice: "Too easy," felt those vicelike hands on mythroat. Would they stop at that?

At last I could bear it no longer. I got up and lit acigarette: then I went and sat down by the open window. A veryfaint breeze was stirring in the trees: from the other end of thelawn came the mournful cry of an owl. And somewhere out there inthe darkness was that poor devil Drummond, on the rack withanxiety and worry.

Suddenly the moon came out from behind a cloud, throwingfantastic shadows across the lawn—the clear-cut black andwhite shadows of the night. And after a while I began to imaginethings, to see movement where there was no movement, to hearnoises when there was no noise. Every board that creaked in thehouse seemed like the footsteps of a man, and once I startedviolently as a bat flitted past close to. In fact I came quitedefinitely to the conclusion that during the hours of darknessPiccadilly was good enough for me. With which profound reflectionI got back into bed, and promptly fell asleep. But what thefootman thought, I don't know. Because when a motor car withblood spouting from the radiator is on the point of knocking youdown, and you see that it isn't really a radiator, but the faceof a man with a cynical smile who continually says "Too easy," itis only natural that you should push that face. I did—andit was the footman's stomach. The only comfort was that he hadalready put down the tea.

V. — IN WHICH THE LETTERARRIVES

And now I come to the beginning proper of theamazing adventure which was to occupy us for the next few days.The happenings of the preceding day were only the necessarypreliminaries without which the adventure could not havestarted.

As I have said, the two alternatives which I had in my mind asI went downstairs the next morning could be summed up in the twowords—ransom or crime. And it was with a queer feeling ofexcitement that I saw Drummond standing in the hall holding abulky letter in his hand. THE letter.

"How's the neck?" he remarked.

"So so," I said. "You've heard from that woman?"

He nodded his head thoughtfully.

"I have. And I'll be damned if I can make out if I'm mad or ifshe is. Go and hit a sausage, and then we'll have a council ofwar."

I went into the dining-room, to find that the rest of his palshad nearly finished. None of the women were down yet, soconversation was non-existent. And ten minutes later we all dulyassembled in Tracey's study.

"I've read this letter twice," said Drummond, coming straightto the point, "and as I said to Dixon I don't know whether I'mmad or she is. He looked a bit fine-drawn, I thought, but muchless worried than he had done the previous night.

"I should think the best thing to do is for me to read italoud to you," he went on. "The postmark on the envelope is of noassistance. It was posted in London, and that doesn't help.Somewhat naturally also there is no address."

He spread out the sheets and began.

'MON AMI,

'In case you have forgotten, I wish to recall to your memorythe circ*mstances of our last meeting. A little more than sixmonths ago you may remember we met beside the wreckage of theairship. And I told you then that I knew you had killed Carl. Itmatters not how I knew: some things are incapable of ordinaryexplanation. But if it is of any interest to you, I did, as amatter of fact, make further inquiries from people who had beenon that last voyage. And from them I learned that I was right,and that you did kill him.

'Six months ago, Drummond, and during those six months youhave never been out of my thoughts for long. There was no hurry,and during a winter spent in Egypt I have been indulging in theluxury of anticipation. They say it is better than realization:the next few days should decide that point as far as thisparticular case is concerned. There was another reason also whichnecessitated a little delay. Various arrangements had to be madein England—arrangements which took time. These have nowbeen made, and I trust that in the near future you will find themsatisfactory.

'However, I go too fast. The first thing I had to decide waswhat method I should adopt for punishing you adequately. Myrevenge, if I was to enjoy it to the full, had to be carefullythought out. I wanted nothing crude;' (I caught Darrell's eye atthat moment) 'I wanted something artistic. And above all I wantedsomething long drawn out.

'And so your brilliant intellect will at once perceive that nomere death coming suddenly out of the blue could fit into myideas. You smile, perhaps: you recall that in the past you werefrequently threatened with death and that you are very much alivetoday. Agreed, mon ami; but do not forget the little verse I sentyou. Doubtless you have inspected the message contained in it,and it is up to me to prove that that message is no emptyboast.

'For example, it would have been the easiest thing in theworld to have killed your dear Phyllis yesterday afternoon. Andher positively murderous assault on one of my most trustedassistants really made me very angry for a while. The poor man isquite dead.

'In parenthesis, mon cher, who on earth is the funny littleman you left to guard the car when you found it? From thedescription I've heard he's a new one on me.'

"Damn the woman!" I spluttered, and even Drummond grinnedsuddenly. Then he went on.

'To return, however. It would have been very easy to havekilled her, but so far from doing so the dear girl is sittingwith me as I write. Not only easy—but just. We should havebeen all square. But I want more satisfaction than that,Drummond, much more. And so I will come down to my littlescheme.

'In the past your physical strength has always excited mywarmest admiration. But I have never been quite so certain aboutyour mental ability. Luck, I think, has entered a good deal intothe matter, and though I should be the last person to belittleluck, yet it is apt to affect the issue somewhat unfairly.

'And so on this occasion I propose to test your brain. Notunduly, I trust, but enough to afford me a certain amount ofamusem*nt. Do not be alarmed—your physical strength will betested also. If you emerge triumphant your dear Phyllis will berestored to your bosom. If on the other hand you fail, then Ishall claim my pound of flesh. In other words, what might have soeasily been done yesterday afternoon will merely have beenpostponed.

'The test is expressed simply by two words: Find Phyllis. Youraise your eyebrows: that, you say, is somewhat naturally thetest. But wait, mon ami, and I will explain a little further. Youhave doubtless heard of hidden treasure hunts: perhaps joined inone yourself. This is going to be run on the same rules. You willreceive clues which you will interpret to the best of yourability. These clues will lead you to various places wherefurther clues will await you. They will also lead you to variousplaces where you may or may not enjoy yourself. Things willhappen which you may or may not like. In fact, my dear Drummond,to put the matter in a nutshell, you may or may not pull through.As I said, I have made my arrangements with some care.

One further word. This little matter is between you and me. Ihave no objection to your roping in your friends—in fact,the more the merrier. But I don't want the police butting in. Youcould not avoid it yesterday afternoon, I know, so you areforgiven for that. But get them out of it now—quickly.Another thing, too. I don't want Uncle Percival or whatever hecalls himself asking absurd questions from any of theBroadcasting centres. If that should happen our little game wouldcease abruptly. So bear those two points in mind: no police, nobroadcasting. And that, I think, is all. You will get your firstclue today.'

Drummond laid down the letter, and lit a cigarette. "What doyou think of it?" he said.

"The thing is a fantastic leg pull," cried Tracey.

But Drummond shook his head doubtfully. "I wonder," he said."What do you think, Peter?"

"That she means every word of it, old boy," answered Darrell,positively. "That's no leg pull: it's damned grim earnest."

"Hear, hear," said Jerningham. "We're for the trailagain."

"You mean to tell me," spluttered Tracey, "that this woman hashidden your wife, and now expects you to go chasing round thecountry till you find her! Dash it—it's absurd."

"Absurd or not absurd," said Drummond gravely, "that isexactly what this woman has done. And from what I know of herit's going to be some chase." He got up, and suddenly, to myamazement, an almost ecstatic grin spread over his face.

"Gosh! boys," he said, "if it wasn't that it was Phyllis, whata glorious time we should have. Why did we never think of itbefore with Carl? We might have had two or three games in ourspare time."

Then he became serious again.

"Look here, Tracey," he said: "and you, too, Dixon, may I relyon you not to say a word of this even to the ladies? The fewerpeople who know about it the better. If this came to the ears ofa newspaper man we'd have the whole of Fleet Street on our heels.So—not a word to a soul."

"A police sergeant to see you, sir."

The butler was holding the door open.

"Mind," said Drummond urgently, "not a word."

The officer who had gone with us to the deserted Bentley theprevious afternoon entered the room.

"Good morning. Sergeant," said Drummond quietly. "Found MrAllbright's car yet?"

The policeman shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he said. "May I ask if you have anynews of your wife?"

Drummond frowned suddenly: then he gave a short laugh."Yes—I have. Look here. Sergeant—you're a man ofdiscretion."

I looked at him covertly: what tale was he going to tell?

"Well, sir," said the officer, with a slightly gratifiedsmile, "they don't make you a sergeant for nothing."

"Precisely," said Drummond. "Well—the fact of the matteris this. My wife has run away—bolted. With another man." Helit a cigarette with a sort of savage resignation. "I didn't sayso yesterday, but I feared even then that that note that wasbrought her was from the swine who—"

He broke off abruptly—words had failed him—andstrode to the window.

"Poor old Hugh," said Sinclair sadly. "It's a devilishbusiness. That dirty little sweep of all people, too."

Drummond invoked the Deity twice, while the sergeant stared athim blankly.

"But look here, sir," he said, "what about all thatblood?"

"That, Sergeant," remarked Drummond, "is the staggering partof the whole business. When my wife rang me up last night to tellme that she had—she had left me, she said 'I suppose you'vefound the Bentley by now.' I said to her, 'But what about theblood on the grass?' She said 'What on earth are you talkingabout? If it's a riddle I haven't got time to buy it now.' Thenshe rang off. She knew nothing about it,sergeant—absolutely nothing."

The officer's face was blanker than before.

"Since then," went on Drummond, "we've been trying toreconstruct what happened. And the only possible conclusion wecan come to is this. The car belonging to Mr Allbright was stolenby two or three men. Driving along the road they came on thedeserted Bentley. Well, if they'd steal one car, they'd stealanother. So they decided to steal that too. And then they fellout—why. Heaven alone knows. Probably one of them wasalready at the wheel of the Bentley—and there was astruggle in which somebody got hit over the head with thespanner. Much harder than was intended. They all becamefrightened, and bundled the wounded man into the closed car. Ofcourse," he continued modestly, "it's only crude amateurdeduction: there are doubtless many objections to ourtheory—"

"Many," agreed Darrell, staring out of the window.

"Which your trained brain will spot," went on Drummond. "Butthe great point as far as we are concerned is this. As far as Iam concerned, I should say. The whole thing is merely an amazingcoincidence. The blood we saw on the road, the blood in MrAllbright's car, has nothing to do with my wife's disappearance.And since I still have hopes that she will realize the error ofher way and come back to me, the last thing I want is to run anyrisk of hardening her heart by worrying her with policeinquiries."

"You know my views, Hugh," said Jerningham.

"And I damned well don't want to hear them again," snappedDrummond.

"A lounge lizard like that!" cried Jerningham scornfully. "Howyou can dream of forgiving her I don't know."

"Lounge lizard, gentlemen?" said the bewildered policeman.

"That's right, sergeant," Jerningham pointed an outragedfinger at space. "A lounge lizard. A ballroom snake. What matterthat his Black Bottom is the best in London."

"My Gawd! sir," gasped the other. "His 'ow much?"

"What matter, I say?" swept on Jerningham. "Is that a thingwhich should commend itself to reasonable decent men?"

"I should 'ardly say so myself, sir," agreed the sergeantfervently.

Jerningham paused to recover his breath.

"What is the gent's name, sir," said the sergeant, producinghis pencil and notebook.

"Albert. Albert Prodnut," said Jerningham, and Drummond satdown abruptly.

"And his address?"

"I wish we knew," answered Jerningham. "If we did, doubtlessby this time Captain Drummond would have removed his liver with arusty penknife. I speak metaphorically."

"So you don't know where he is, sir?"

"Somewhere on the Continent," said Drummond in a hollowvoice.

"And your wife, too?"

Drummond groaned and hid his face in his hands, whileJerningham rose and took the sergeant by the arm.

"No more now, sergeant," he whispered confidentially. "He isstrung up to breaking point. In a week or two, perhaps. Or amonth. And in the meantime you will treat what we have told youas absolutely confidential, won't you?"

He propelled him gently towards the door.

"It's all very strange, sir," he said in a worried voice.

"If you knew Albert Prodnut you'd think it was a damned sightstranger," said Jerningham feelingly. "One of those strange casesof mental aberration. Sergeant—almost I might say ofpsycho-sclerosis—which baffle the cleverest doctor. Leavehim to us now."

The door closed behind the harassed officer, and Jerninghamheld up his two thumbs.

"Prodnut," said Drummond weakly. "Why Prodnut?"

"Why not? It's very difficult to think of a name when you'resuddenly asked for one. There is a ring of sincerity about AlbertProdnut that carries entire conviction."

"Look here, you fellows," said Tracey seriously, "this isgetting beyond a joke. You can't expect any man out of a lunaticasylum to believe that absurd rigmarole."

"We had to say something," remarked Drummond. "Personally Ithink we told the tale rather well."

"Yes—but what about me?" said Tracey. "It's a tissue oflies from beginning to end."

"We can't tell the truth," answered Drummond gravely. "Lookhere, Tracey. I'm very sorry about this, and I quite appreciatethe difficulties of your position. In the bottom of your mind youprobably think that that woman's letter is a bluff. I know itisn't. We've got to keep the police out of this if we possiblycan. And I really couldn't think of anything better on the spurof the moment."

"You still mean," said Tracey amazed, "to take that woman ather word! To go hunting about all over England on clues she sendsyou which will probably lead you nowhere nearer your wife thanyou are at present!"

"What else can I do?" cried Drummond. "She's in the positionof being able to dictate terms."

Once again the door opened and Parker came in, this time witha telegram on a salver. "For you, sir," he said, handing it toDrummond.

He tore open the yellow envelope, and as he read the message alook of complete bewilderment spread over his face. "Well, I'mdamned!" he muttered. "No answer, thank you, Parker. Listen here,you fellows," he went on as the butler left the room, "what inthe name of fortune do you make of this?

"My first a horse may draw or even two the rest is found atYork and aids the view and when you've solved that bit by dint oftrying an inn you'll find where fishermen are lying"

"It's the first clue," said Jerningham excitedly. "She saidyou'd get it this morning."

"But it's hopeless," cried Drummond in despair. "The simplestcrossword reduces me to a jibbering wreck. If I've got to try andsolve these damned things I'm done before I start."

"There are half a dozen perfectly good people to help you, oldboy," said Darrell. "Sling the paper over. Let's put it down asit's meant to be—in the form of a verse."

He scribbled the words on a piece of paper while we leanedover his shoulder. And even Tracey seemed impressed by thissudden new development.

"Now then," said Darrell, "does that make it any better?"

My first a horse maydraw, or even two;
The rest is found at York, and aidsthe view.
And when you've solved that bit by dint oftrying,
An inn you'll find where fishermen arelying.

"If line three is right," I said, "the first two are acomplete clue in themselves."

"That's so," agreed Tracey. "But what sort of a clue? Is itthe name of a man or a town or what?"

"Let's assume it's a town to start with," said Jerningham."There's an inn mentioned in the last line."

"What's found at York?" demanded Drummond gloomily.

"Ham, dear old boy," burbled Algy Longworth.

"And Archbishops," said Sinclair hopefully.

"I don't know that it can be truthfully maintained," saidTracey mildly, "that either ham or Archbishops aid the view."

"Hold hard a bit," remarked Darrell. "Let's start at thebeginning. 'My first a horse may draw, or even two.' Presumablythat means two horses. So it's a horse-drawn vehicle suitable forone or two horses."

"By Jove! Peter, you're a bunking marvel," cried Drummond."Cart, cab, wagon."

"You don't have a two-horse cab," objected Jerningham.

"Wagon sounds possible," said Darrell. "There must be placesbeginning with Wagon. Got a map Tracey?"

"Here's the Times Gazetteer," he answered. "By Jove!Wagonmound."

"Got it!" shouted Drummond. "There's bound to be a mound atYork."

But Tracey was shaking his head.

"Sorry. I spoke too soon. The darned place is in New Mexico.And that's the only place beginning with Wagon that'smentioned."

"Hell!" said Drummond, and relapsed into silence.

"What about Dray," I remarked. "You speak of a one-horse drayand a two-horse dray."

"Stout fellow," cried Drummond. "Look up Dray, Tracey."

"There are about forty Draytons," he said. "Lots of Draycotts:Drayminster, Drayney."

"Drayminster!" I yelled. "Minster, York Minster."

"I believe you've got it," said Darrell. "It fits at any rateas far as the first two lines are concerned."

"By Jove! you fellows," cried Jerningham. "Listen here. Thisis the AA handbook. Drayminster. Population 2231, Sussex. 55miles to London. Now brace yourselves for it. Hotel—theAngler's Rest. We have got it."

For a while we all stared at one another too excited to speak.Was there a mistake? Fishermen lying; Anglers' Rest. No one couldsay that York Minster was not an aid to the view: a dray couldcertainly be drawn by one or two horses. It fitted, every cluefitted.

"Get packed, boys," cried Drummond. "We lunch at the Angler'sRest. Gosh! I feel better. We've started. Beer, Tracey old lad,pints of beer! And you and Dixon shall wish us good hunting."

The beer arrived, and then Drummond raised his hand as forsome solemn rite. Slowly he waved it to and fro, and once moredid the words of his favourite refrain burst forth withvigour:

"The more we are together—together—together: themore we are together the merrier we shall be."

"A new music-hall song?" I inquired politely.

And all they did was to roar with laughter.

"When we start hunting, boys," he said, "that shall be thewar-cry. Don't forget—once for the rally, twice fordanger."

I suppose it was foolish of me, but I really couldn't help it.There was something contagious about the spirits of thisextraordinary gang which must have infected me.

"I must learn the tune," I said. "For if you'll allow me Ishould very much like to join you in whatever is coming."

They all stared at me, then, a little doubtfully, at oneanother.

"Of course," I said stiffly, "if you'd prefer I didn't."

"It isn't that," interrupted Drummond. "Look here, Dixon, ifyou're going to come in on this thing you'd better be under nodelusions. You got a taste last night of the sort of people we'regoing to be up against. And believe you me that's nothing to whatwe shall strike. I want you to understand quite clearly that ifyou do join us you'll be taking your life in your hands at mosthours of the day and night. I mean it—quite literally. It'snot going to be a question of merely solving little puzzles."

"I'll chance it," I answered. "As a matter of fact I dislikemost strongly the implication behind the phrase funny littleman."

Once more the whole lot burst out laughing. "Right," saidDrummond. "That settles it. But don't say you weren't warned ifyou get your ear bitten badly."

VI. — IN WHICH I GET THESECOND CLUE

The village of Drayminster is one of the beautyspots of England. Somewhat out of the beaten track, it is as yetunspoiled by motor coaches and hordes of trippers. The river Draymeanders on its peaceful way parallel to the main street, and inthe very centre of the village stands the Angler's Rest. A stripof grass separates it from the water's edge, and moored to twostakes a punt stretches out into the stream from the end of whichthe energetic may fish for the wily roach and perch. Abackwater—but what a pleasant backwater.

"Your lady friend," I said to Drummond, "has undoubtedly anartistic eye." We were sitting on the lawn after lunch, and hegrunted thoughtfully. The others had departed on a tour ofexploration, and save for the motionless figure of the landlord'sson at the end of the punt, we were alone.

"If only I could be absolutely certain that we were right," heremarked. "That we aren't wasting our time sitting here."

"Unless the whole thing is a stupid hoax," I saidreassuringly, "I'm certain our solution was correct."

It was the inaction that chafed him, I could see. I think hehad expected to find another clue waiting for us on our arrival.But there had been nothing, and gradually his mood A of elationhad left him. He had kept his eyes fixed so searchingly on anelderly parson and his daughter during lunch that the poor manhad become quite hot and bothered. In fact, it wasn't until ourhost had assured him that the reverend gentleman had come to thehotel regularly for the last twenty years that he desisted.

"It's not a hoax," he said doggedly. "So why the devil, ifwe're right, haven't we heard something more?"

"Quite possibly that's all part of the game," I answered."They may know that that is a method of rattling you."

"By Jove!" he cried, "I hadn't thought of that."

He looked quite relieved at the suggestion.

"There's one thing we might do," I went on. "It may not be anygood, but it can't do any harm. Let's find out if there are anyhouses in the neighbourhood that have recently changed hands. Ifthey are hiding your wife a house is the most likely place to doit in."

"Dixon," he said, "you're the bright boy all right. My brainat the moment is refusing to function altogether. Hi!John—or whatever your name is—cease tormenting fishand come here a moment."

Obediently the boy put down his rod and approached.

"Now, you know all the big houses in the neighbourhood, don'tyou?"

The boy nodded his head.

"That's right, mister. There be the Old Manor—that beSquire Foley's. And there be Park House. That do belong to SirJames—but he be away now."

"Has there been any house sold round about here recently," Iput in.

The boy scratched his head.

"There be Widow Maybury's," he said. "She did sell her littlecottage, and be gone to live with her darter near Lewes."

"Who bought it," I cried.

"They do say he be a writer from Lunnon, or sommat fulish likethat. He just comes occasional like."

"Is he here now," asked Drummond.

"Ay," said the boy. "He come last night. There was a youngleddy with him."

I caught Drummond's eye, and it was blazing withexcitement.

"They come in a motor car," went on the boy.

"Where is the cottage?" said Drummond.

"End o' village," he replied. "'Lily Cottage,' it do becalled."

Drummond had already risen to his feet, and the boy looked athim doubtfully.

"He be a terrible funny-tempered gentleman," he said. "He setabout Luke Gurney with a stick, he did—two or three weeksago. Had to pay Luke five pounds, he did, or old Gaffer Gurneywould have had him up afore the beak."

"My lad," said Drummond, "there is half a crown. You may nowresume your occupation of catching fish."

He turned to me. "Are you coming," he said.

"Well," I said a little doubtfully, "we'd better be careful,hadn't we? This fellow may be a perfectly harmlessindividual."

"In which case we will withdraw gracefully," he cried. "Damnit, man, I believe we're on the scent. Why—Good God!Phyllis may be actually there now."

"All right—I'll come," I said. "Only—cautious doesit." But for the moment Drummond was beyond caution. The thoughtthat possibly his wife was within half a mile of him had sent himcompletely crazy, and it was only with the greatest difficultythat I restrained him from bursting straight into the house whenwe got there. "You can't, my dear fellow," I cried. "We must havesome sort of excuse."

It was a small cottage standing back a little from the road. Atiny patch of garden in front was bright with flowers, and twopigeons regarded us thoughtfully from a dovecot. "We'll ask ifit's for sale," he said, and then suddenly he gripped my arm likea vice.

"Look up at the top left-hand window," he muttered. I did so,and got a momentary glimpse of the saturnine, furious face of aman glaring at us. Then like a flash it was gone.

"Dixon," he said hoarsely, "we've done it. She's in there. AndI'm going through that house with a fine comb."

A little dubiously I followed him up the path. Nothing that Icould have done would have stopped him, but even before heknocked on the door I had a shrewd suspicion that he was making ablazing error. It seemed impossible that, after all the chat andbother there had been, the solution should prove so simple. And ablazing error it proved. The door was flung open and the man wehad seen peering at us through the window appeared. And to put itmildly he was not amused.

"What the—" he began.

"Laddie," interrupted Drummond firmly, "something tells methat you and I will never be friends. Nevertheless I am going tohonour your charming cottage with a call."

He extended a vast hand and the other man disappeared into thehat-rack—an unstable structure. Drummond disappearedupstairs. And the scene that followed beggared description. Thehat-rack, in falling, had pinned the owner underneath. Moreover,as far as I could see, one of the metal pegs was running straightinto the small of his back. Then came a shrill feminine screamfrom above, and Drummond appeared at the top of the stairslooking pensive. He was still looking pensive when he joinedme.

"I fear," he murmured, "that someone has blundered."

A rending crash from behind announced that the hat-rack wasstill in the picture, and we faded rapidly down the street.

"A complete stranger," he remarked. "With very little on. Mostembarrassing."

I began to shake helplessly.

"But I maintain," he went on, "that no man has a right topossess a face like that. It's enough to make anyonesuspicious."

A howl of rage from behind us announced that the battle of thehat-rack was over.

"Pretend," said Drummond, "that I'm not all there."

"Hi, you, sir," came a shout, and we paused.

"You are addressing me, sir?" remarked Drummond majesticallyas the other approached.

"You scoundrel," he spluttered. "How dare you force your wayinto my house?"

"My Prime Minister will raise the point at the next meeting ofParliament," said Drummond. "Do you ever hit yourself hard on thehead with a heavy spanner? Hard and often. You must try it. It'sso wonderful when you stop. The audience is terminated."

He turned on his heel, and strode off down the street, whilstI touched my head significantly.

"Good God!" said the other. "Is he mad?"

"Touched," I murmured. "Result of shell shock. He'll probablybe quite all right in an hour or two when he'll have completelyforgotten the whole incident."

"But the cursed fellow ought to be locked up," he criedangrily.

"His relatives don't want it to come to that if it can beavoided," I said. "I much regret the incident,sir—but..."

"Bring me a mushroom omelette without..." Drummond hadsuddenly returned, and was staring fixedly at his latevictim.

"Without?" stammered the other nervously. "Without what?"

"Without mushrooms, you fool. Damn it—the man's notright in his head. What else could it be without? Come, fellow, Iwould fain sleep."

He seized me by the arm, and stalked off in the direction ofthe Angler's Rest, leaving the other standing speechless in theroad.

"Did we put it across him?" he said when we were out ofhearing.

"More or less," I answered. "He said you ought to be lockedup."

"I really don't blame him," he conceded. "She was a prettygirl, too," he continued irrelevantly as we arrived at the hotel."Very pretty."

Darrell and Jerningham were both on the lawn, but the othershad evidently not yet returned.

"Any luck?" they asked as we pulled up a couple of chairs.

"Damn all," said Drummond moodily. "I pushed a bloke's faceinto a hat-rack, and contemplated a charming lady with verylittle on, but we never got the trace of a clue. What's worryingme, chaps, is whether we ought to sit still and wait, or runround in small circles and look."

"After your recent entertainment," I remarked mildly, "Ishould suggest the former. At any rate for a time."

"Perhaps you're right," he agreed resignedly. "All I hope isthat it won't be for long."

"But you don't imagine, do you, old boy," remarked Jerningham,"that Phyllis is likely to be round about here? Because Idon't."

"What's that?" said Drummond blankly.

"This is but the beginning of the chase. And I don't thinkMademoiselle Irma would have run the risk of bringing her to theplace where all of us would certainly be, granted we solved thefirst clue. All we're going to get here is the second clue."

"And probably have a darned sticky time getting it," saidDarrell.

He stretched out his legs and closed his eyes, and after awhile I followed his example. The afternoon was drowsy, and if wewere going to have a sticky time, sleep seemed as good apreparation for it as anything. And it seemed only a momentafterwards that a hand was laid on my shoulder, and I sat up witha start.

The shadows had lengthened, and at first I saw no one. Thelandlord's son had ceased to fish: the chairs that the others hadoccupied were empty.

"You will, I am sure, excuse me," came a pleasant voice fromover my shoulder, "but your snores are a little disconcerting tothe sensitive ear."

"I beg your pardon," I said stiffly as I rose. "Falling asleepwhen sitting up is always dangerous."

He regarded me affably—a pleasant-faced little white-haired man.

"Don't mention it," he said. "I do to others as I would theyshould do to me. And I feared you might collect a crowd, whowould misconstrue the reason of the uproar in view of theproximity of the Angler's Rest."

He sat down in the seat recently occupied by Drummond.

"You are staying long?" he inquired pleasantly.

"That largely depends," I answered.

"A charming village," he remarked. "A bit of old-worldEngland, the like of which I regret to say is becoming all toorare. They tell me it was fifth—or was it sixth—inthe competition for the most beautiful village."

He frowned. "How annoying. Was it fifth or sixth?"

"Does it," I murmured, "make very much difference?"

For a moment or two he stared at me fixedly.

"It might," he said gravely, "make a lot."

Then he looked away, and I felt a sudden pricking feeling ofexcitement. Was he implying something? Was there a hidden meaningin his apparently harmless remark? Was he one of those people whor*ally are worried by failing to remember some small,insignificant detail such as that—or was it the beginningof a new clue?

"Only, I should imagine, to the lucky inhabitants," I saidlightly. "For my own part I am content with it whatever place itoccupied in the list of honour."

He nodded. "Perhaps so. It is certainly very lovely. And theinn is most comfortable. I always feel that in such a setting asthis the old-time English beverage of ale tastes doublygood—a point of view which was shared, I think, by a verylarge individual who was sitting in this chair half an hour or soago."

"I know the man you mean," I answered. "He is a very capaciousbeer drinker."

"He crooned some incantation which seemed to assist hisdigestion," he went on with an amused smile. "You are all oneparty, I suppose?"

"As a matter of fact we are," I said politely, restraining adesire to ask what business it was of his. If there was anythingto be got—I'd get it. "We are here," I added on the spur ofthe moment, "on a quest."

"Indeed," he murmured. "How interesting! And how mysterious!Would it be indiscreet to inquire the nature of the quest?"

"That I fear is a secret," I remarked. "But it concernsprincipally the large individual of whom you spoke."

"My curiosity is aroused," he said. "It sounds as if a ladyshould be at the bottom of it."

"A lady is at the bottom of it," I answered.

He shook his head with a whimsical smile.

"What it is to be young! I, alas! can only say with the poet'Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.'" Once again did hegive me a peculiar direct stare before looking away.

"At the moment," I remarked, "the quotation eludes me."

"It may perhaps return in time," he smiled. "And prove ofassistance."

"In what possible way can it prove of assistance?" I saidquickly.

"It is always an assistance to the mind when a forgotten tagis recalled," he remarked easily.

I said nothing: was I imagining things, or was I not? Heseemed such a harmless old buffer, and yet...

"As one grows older," he went on after a while, "one turnsmore and more to the solace of books. And yet what in reality arewords worth? 'Si jeunesse savait: si vieillesse pouvait.'The doctrine of life in a nutshell, my friend."

Still I said nothing: why I know not, but the conviction wasgrowing on me that there was a message underlying hisremarks.

"Words may be worth a lot," I said at length, "if one fullyunderstands their meaning."

For the third time he gave me a quick, penetrating stare.

"To do that it is necessary to use one's brain," he murmured."You will join me in a little gin and vermouth?"

"Delighted," I said perfunctorily. Then—"May I ask you aperfectly straight question, sir?"

He returned to his seat from ringing the bell.

"But certainly," he said. "Whether I give you a perfectlystraight answer, however, is a different matter."

"Naturally," I agreed. "Do you know why we are here or do younot?"

"You have already told me that you are in quest of alady."

He raised his glass to his lips.

"Votre sante, m'sieur—and also to the success ofyour search. If any stray words of mine have assisted you I shallbe doubly rewarded for having roused you from your slumbers."

He replaced his glass on the table.

"Exquisite, is it not—the gold and black of the colourscheme? But alas! the air grows a little chilly pour lavieillesse. You will pardon me, I trust—if I leave you.And once again—good hunting."

He went indoors and I sat on, thinking. More and more stronglywas the conviction growing on me that the second due lay in ourconversation: less and less, could I see a ray of light. Was itcontained in that quotation: 'Sole-sitting by the shores of oldromance?' He had said it might prove of assistance—and thenhad passed off his remark.

Who had written it, anyway? It came back to me as a dimlyremembered tag, but as to the author my mind was a blank. Had thewell-known old French proverb any bearing on the case?

His voice from a window above me cut into my reverie.

"I feel sure that you are tormenting yourself over the authorof my little quotation," he chuckled. "It has suddenly occurredto me that his name was actually mentioned in ourconversation."

The window closed, leaving me staring blankly at it. Mentionedin our conversation! No author's name had been mentioned: to thatI could swear. And yet would he have said so if it was not thecase? It seemed stupid and unnecessary.

Once more I ran over it, trying to recall it word by word. Itwas maddening to think that I was now possibly in actualpossession of the information we wanted, and yet that I couldn'tget it.

I ordered another gin and vermouth: perhaps, after all, I hadbeen mistaken. An old gentleman in all probability with an impishdelight in the mysterious who was deliberately playing a littlejoke on me. And then the window above me opened again.

"Goodbye, my friend. I am sorry to say that I have to leavethis charming spot. And I trust for all your sakes that yourbrain will prove equal to my little problem."

I got up quickly: surely that remark clinched the matter. Hewas one of the others, and I'd make him tell me more. A Ford wasstanding by the door, and a minute or two later I saw him gettinginto it. "Look here, sir," I said, "I must insist on your beingmore explicit. You do know why we are here; you have been givingme the second clue."

He raised his eyebrows.

"You have told me why you are here," he answered. "And as forthe second clue, the phrase sounds most exciting. And as for me Ihave a train to catch. To the station, driver."

The car started, leaving me standing there blankly. And thenhe put his head out of the window.

"Good hunting."

I suppose Drummond would have pulled him out of the car by thescruff of the neck: I wasn't Drummond. I watched the cardisappear up the road, then I went back to my neglected gin andvermouth, swearing under my breath.

"Who," I said to the landlord who came out at that moment, "isthe old gentleman who had just driven off?"

"He entered himself in the book, sir, as Mr Johnson of London.More than that I can't tell you."

Evidently disposed for a chat he rambled on, whilst Ipretended to listen. And suddenly—I don't know what theworthy man was talking about at the moment—I fired aquestion at him.

"Have you got any books of poetry in the hotel?"

It must have been a bit disconcerting, for he stared at me asif I had taken leave of my senses.

"I believe the missus has," he said in an offended voice. "Idon't hold with the stuff myself. I'll ask her."

He went indoors to return in a few moments with theinformation that she had Longfellow, Shelley, Wordsworth, Keats.I cut short the catalogue with a yell, and this time the poor manlooked really alarmed.

"Wordsworth," I said. "Please ask her to lend meWordsworth."

He again went indoors, and I sat there marvelling at mydenseness. "And yet what in reality are words worth?"

At the time the phrasing had struck me as peculiar, a littlepedantic. And there it had been sticking out right under my nose.Now there was nothing for it but to go clean through until Ifound the quotation, and then if my reasoning was right we shouldfind the clue in the context.

Mine host handed me the book with an air of hurt dignity, andretired once more indoors whilst I started on my lengthy task. Incouples the others came back looking moody and disconsolate, anddisinclined for conversation. They took no notice of me, and I,for fear I might raise false hopes, said nothing. Plenty of timeto talk if I proved right.

Dinner came, and over the steak and kidney pie, I foundit.

'Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of oldromance.'

I stared at the page blankly. Lady of the Mere. What earthlygood was that? Had all my time been wasted? Was the old man aharmless jester after all?

"Everything to your satisfaction, gentlemen?" The landlordcame up to our table, and a I drew a bow at a venture. "Tell me,landlord," I said, "is there in this neighbourhood any placecalled the Mere?"

He stared at me for a moment or two without speaking. "Thereis," he answered at length, and his jovial expression hadvanished. "May I ask why you want to know, sir?"

"Curiosity," I said, hardly able to keep the excitement out ofmy voice. "Is it a pond—or what?"

"It's a house," he said. "An old house. About three miles fromhere."

"Who is the owner?" I cried.

"Owner!" he gave a short laugh. "There ain't been no owner,sir, for nigh on ten years. And there ain't never likely tobe."

"What's the matter with the place?"

"I bain't a superstitious man, gentlemen," he said gravely,"but it would take more'n a bag of gold to get me across thethreshold of the Mere—even by day. And by night, I wouldn'tgo—not for all the money in the Bank of England."

"Haunted, is it?" I prompted.

"Maybe—maybe not," he answered. "There be grim things,sir, black things go on in that house. Ten years ago the owner,old Farmer Jesson, were murdered there. A fierce man he was: usedto keep the most awful savage dogs. And they do say that he foundhis young wife with a lad—a powerful-tempered boy. And theyhad a terrible quarrel. The lad, so the story goes—' estruck the old man and killed him after an awful struggle. And ashe died he cursed the lad and his young wife. He cursed thehouse: he cursed everything he could think of. Certain it is thatthe lad and the lass disappeared: folks do say they died wherethey stood and then were mysteriously removed. As I say, I bain'tsuperstitious, and I don't rightly hold with that story. But whatI do know is that since then there be strange lights and noisesthat come from the old place—for I've seen 'em and heard'em myself. And I do know that there come a young gentleman fromLondon who heard the tales and didn't believe them. He went thereone night, and they found him next day on the ground outside,lying on his back and staring at the sky—as mad as ahatter. No, no, gentlemen—take my advice and give the Merea wide berth, or you'll regret it."

He bustled off to attend to a new arrival.

"How fearfully jolly," I remarked.

The others were staring at me curiously.

"Why this incursion into local superstition?" askedDarrell.

"No particular reason," I answered on the spur of the moment."As I said, just idle curiosity."

VII. — IN WHICH WE COME TOTHE MERE

I really don't know why I didn't tell them atonce. Somehow or other the whole thing seemed so terribly thin asI ran over it in my mind. And told secondhand it would havesounded even thinner. A tag from Wordsworth: the coincidence of aname. And that was positively all.

I felt that something more definite was wanted, and thereseemed only one way of getting it. I would go there myself andreconnoitre. I admit that I didn't like the idea particularly:that bit about the man who was found on the ground outside, asmad as a hatter, was so wonderfully reassuring. At the same timeI'd had three co*cktails, and I was now having my second glass ofport. And the suspicion that this cheery band regarded me as arabbit rankled. Their opinion would change pretty rapidly if Icame back with the next clue in my pocket.

After all it was I who had solved the first one and spottedDrayminster, and though I might not be their equal in merephysical strength it was brain that was needed on a show likethis. And in that department I ventured to think the boot was onthe other leg.

I ordered another glass of port. Just local superstition, ofcourse: good enough for inebriated yokels wandering home atnight. They would hear noises and see lights anywhere. But for aneducated man to be put off by such an absurd story was nothingshort of ridiculous. I'd borrow a bicycle after dinner, and havea look round the place. Only three miles mine host had said: I'dbe back comfortably by eleven o'clock. And if I'd found nothing Iwould not mention my conversation of before dinner.

The others had drifted away from the table, and were sittingin the lounge outside as I went through. They seemed bored anddepressed, and with difficulty I repressed a smile as I thoughtof the change that would occur when I came back with the goods. Ishould have to solve it for them too in all probability: in factit had been a very fortunate moment for them when I had decidedto help them.

The first thing to do was to get hold of a bicycle, and inthat I was successful at once. The landlord's son would be onlytoo pleased to lend me his, and after a few minutes it wasbrought round to the front door.

"Be you going far, mister," he said, "because there bain't toomuch oil in the lamp."

"I'm going to the Mere," I answered as casually as possible."Which is the way?"

The boy's jaw dropped, and he stared at me speechlessly.

"To the Mere," he stammered at length. "But you can't go tothe Mere at night. It bain't safe."

I smiled a little pityingly.

"Rot, my good boy," I said. "Anyway, I'll chance it. Now,which is the way?"

"Straight along the road," he answered, pointing up thestreet. "And when you get about two mile out of Drayminster,you'll find a turning going down to the right. Take that, and inabout another half mile or so you'll see the house in front ofyou."

He hesitated for a moment: then he burst out with a furtherwarning.

"It ain't safe, sir: it be a terrible place at night."

"Light the lamp, my lad," I said. "Your bicycle will be quitesafe, anyway."

He fumbled with a match, and I glanced in through the opendoor. The others were still in the lounge, and just for a momentor two I hesitated. Should I tell them after all? When all wassaid and done it was their show more than mine, and the thoughtof Drummond beside me had much to commend it. And then Idismissed it: was I, a grown man, going to admit that I wasfrightened of a stupid story?

"The lamp be lit, sir," said the boy. "But you be terriblyfoolish to go."

He turned away and slouched in at the back door, while I gotready to mount. Foolish or not, I was going, and the sooner Istarted the sooner I'd be back.

It was a beautiful night, warm and without a breath of wind,and I was soon clear of the village. The moon had not yet risen,but there was no mistake about the road which ran for the firstmile beside the river. Then it swung away to the left over somehigh ground. I found the turning the boy had spoken of withoutdifficulty—one that evidently would lead back towards theriver. The surface was poor—it was scarcely more than alane, and little used at that—and very soon some high treesmade the darkness so intense that the going was hard. In fact,after a short time I dismounted and pushed on on foot.

Now I make no bones about it, but the fact remains that withevery step I took I found myself wishing more heartily that I hadlistened to the boy's advice. Whether it was due to the effectsof the port wearing off or whether the reality was worse thanwhat I had anticipated is immaterial. But after I'd walked aboutfifty yards it was only by the greatest effort of will that Iprevented myself turning and fleeing incontinently.

There was a sort of dank feeling about that lane which got onmy nerves, and the feeble little circle of light from the lampdancing about in front of me as the bicycle jolted only seemed tomake the surrounding darkness more impenetrable. And at last,acting on a sudden impulse, I blew it out, and left the bicyclestanding against the hedge. If the landlord's three miles wasright I must be very near my destination.

Came a sudden jink in the lane, and there within fifty yardsof me stood the house. I stopped instinctively: what a fearsome-looking place it was. Trees were all round it except on one sidewhere a large pool of water lay stagnant andunruffled—doubtless the pool that had given the place itsname. The house itself was a big one, and gave an impression ofindescribable gloom. It seemed to squat there in its setting oftrees like a dead thing. No gleam of light came from any window:no sound broke the absolute silence.

I sat down on the bank beside the lane: some plan of actionhad to be decided on. Up till now I hadn't really thought what Iwas going to do when I got there: now it had to be faced.Obviously there was no use in sitting down and looking at theplace: the clue, if my supposing was right, was not likely to beobtained that way. It would be inside the house, and if I wantedto get it that is where I should have to go. And the more Ithought of it the less did I relish it.

I tried to find excuse for myself. How, for instance, could Iget in? The answer to that was obvious—I certainly couldn'ttell unless I tried. Was it wise for a man to attempt such athing single-handed? The answer to that consisted of oneword—coward. Had I come all this way—made all thissong and dance in my own mind—merely to run away when Iarrived. I forced myself to view the matter from a common-sensepoint of view.

"Here," I said out loud, "is an old untenantedhouse—set, it is true, in gloomy surroundings which lookall the more gloomy because it happens to be dark. But it ismerely a house consisting of bricks and mortar. You are a man ofthe world. Are you going to admit to yourself that you are afraidof exploring those bricks and mortar? Are you going to allowyourself to be influenced by an ancient story of something thathappened ten years ago? At any rate go a bit closer and have alook."

At that I compromised to start with. I would go a bit closerand have a look. Very likely I should find everything shut andbarred: if so I should have no alternative but to go home.Skirting along the undergrowth I approached the house. Stonesteps covered with weeds led up to the front door, which wasoverhung with trailing creepers and ivy. For a moment Ihesitated: then I went up the steps and cautiously tried thehandle of the door. To my great relief it was locked, and thefeeling that honour was satisfied was very strong. I could now goback to the Angler's Rest in order to get something to open thedoor with. And even as I so decided I seemed to hear Drummond'svoice saying—"What about the ground floor windows? Didn'tyou try them?"

Right! I would. And then there would be no possibility of anyback chat. Keeping close into the wall I skirted round the house.And I hadn't gone twenty yards before I was brought up standing.There in front of me was a wide-open window. All I had to do wasto put my leg over the sill and I should be inside the house.

I peered in doubtfully: dimly I saw a table, some chairs, and,on the other side of the room, an open door. The musty smell oflong disuse was overpowering, and I knew that if I hesitated forlong I should hesitate for good. I flung a leg over, and steppedon to the floor.

The dust was thick everywhere. It rose in choking clouds, anddeadened the sound of my feet as I crept towards the open door.It was almost like walking on a carpet, and it struck me thatwhatever might have happened in the past no one, could have beenin the house for months, if not years. So what was the good ofgoing on? I paused in the doorway to consider that new point. Ifno one had been in, the clue could not be in the house: it must,if I was on the right track, be in the garden outside.

In front of me was the hall. I could just see the staircase tomy right, and opposite me was a piece of furniture that lookedlike a hat-rack. I peered across at it: was it my imagination, orwas there something white that was hanging on one of thepegs—something that might be a piece of paper? Was itpossible that here was the actual clue I was searching for?

I tiptoed across the hall: and almost trembling withexcitement I struck a match. One word was written onit—Excelsior.

The match burned out, and I did not light another. No need torack one's brain to interpret that message. True, it proved I wason the right track, which was gratifying to my pride as a solverof conundrums, but it also indicated with painful clearness thenext move. There was only one way to Excelsior in that house, andthat was to go upstairs. And the thought of going upstairs leftme chilled to the marrow.

I stood staring at the dim outline of the staircase fadinginto utter blackness at the top. Where I was, a faint light didcome from the open door by which I had entered. Above, thedarkness was absolute. Should I, or should I not? And though Isay it myself, I consider that a certain amount of credit was dueto me for deciding in the affirmative. I'd go and have a look atthe top of the stairs.

Still on tiptoe I crossed the hall to the foot of them. Amouldering carpet existed in patches, and I began to ascendcautiously for fear of tripping up. But no care on my part couldprevent the stairs creaking abominably, and in the silence of thehouse each step I took sounded like a pistol shot.

At last I reached the top. Now that I was there the darknesswas not quite so intense: a little of the light from the opendoor below managed to filter up. To my right and left ran apassage, and putting my hand in my pocket I counted the coins.Odd to the left: even to the right. There were seven, and Istarted feeling my way towards the left. And I can't have takenmore than half a dozen steps when a strange creaking noise camefrom the hall, and at the same moment I realized it was gettingdarker. I stopped abruptly, and peered below. And what I sawfroze me stiff with fright. The door by which I had entered wasclosing, and even as I looked at it, it shut with a bang. Thenonce more absolute silence.

For a moment or two I gave way to blind panic. I rushed as Ithought in the direction of the stairs, and hit a wall. I turnedround and rushed another way, and hit another wall. Then I forcedmyself to stand still: I'd lost my bearings completely: I hadn'tan idea where the stairs were. Like a fool that I was I hadwalked straight into the trap, and the trap had shut behindme.

My first instinctive thought was to light amatch—anything seemed better than this impenetrableblackness. And then prudence won. If there were people round meall I should do would be to give myself away. I was safer in thedark. At any rate we were on equal terms.

I crouched against the wall with my heart going in sickeningthumps, and listened. Not a sound. The silence was as complete asthe darkness. And I began to wonder if there was anyone in thehouse—any human that is. Was it a material agency that hadshut that door—or was it something supernatural? Would someghastly thing suddenly hurl itself on me: something against whicheven Drummond with all his strength would be powerless? Everyghost story I'd ever heard of came back to me along with thecomforting reflection that I had always ridiculed the idea thatthere were such things. But it is one thing to be sceptical inthe smoking-room of your club, and quite another when you arecrouching in inky darkness in a deserted house from which yourline of escape has been cut off.

Suddenly I started violently: an odd slithering noise hadbegun. It was rather as if a sack full of corn was being bumpedon the floor, and it seemed to come from my left. I peered inwhat I thought was the right direction while the sweat ran off mein streams. Was it my imagination, or was there a faintluminosity in the darkness about three feet from the ground? Istared at it and it moved. With each bump it moved, and it wascoming closer. Step by step I backed away from it: step by stepit kept pace with me. And for the first time in my life I knewthe meaning of the word terror. Frightened I had been many times:this was stark, raving horror. I was stiff and paralysed withfear. Was this the thing that had sent the other man mad?

Then, as if a veil had suddenly been torn away, came thechange. One instant there had been merely a faint lessening ofthe darkness: the next I found myself staring into a shiningyellow face of such inconceivable malignity that I almostscreamed. It was not two feet away, and about on a level with mychest. I hit at it blindly, and found my wrist caught in a gripof steel. Then I felt a hand creeping up my coat until it reachedmy throat, and I began to struggle wildly.

I kicked into the darkness, and my foot hit something solid.There was a grunt of pain, and the grip on my throat tightenedsavagely. The face drew nearer, and there came a roaring in myears. And I had just given myself up as finished when a thinghappened so staggering that I could scarcely believe my eyes.

Out of the darkness from behind the shining face there came apair of hands. I could see them clearly—just the hands andnothing more, as if they were disembodied. There was a curiousred scar on the middle finger of the right hand, and the leftthumbnail was distorted. With the utmost deliberation theyfastened on the throat of my assailant, and began to drag himbackwards. For a while he resisted: then quite suddenly the gripon my throat relaxed. Half insensible I sank down on the floorand lay there watching. For the moment my only coherent thoughtwas relief that I could breathe again, that the yellow face wasgoing. Writhing furiously, its mouth twisted into a snarl ofrage, it seemed to be borne backwards by those two detachedhands. And even as I tried foolishly to understand what it allmeant, there came from down below a well-known voice—"Themore we are together." The relief was too much: I did anotherthing for the first time in my life. I fainted.

I came to, to find the whole bunch regarding me by the lightof half a dozen candles.

"Look here, little man," said Drummond, "what merry jaunt haveyou been up to this time?"

"How did you know I was here," I asked feebly.

"The landlord's son told us you'd borrowed his bicycle," heanswered. "And since they all seemed very alarmed at the pub wethought we'd come along and see. We found your machine outside,and then we found you here unconscious. What's the worry? haveyou seen a ghost?"

"Seen and felt it," I said grimly. "A ghastly shining yellowface, with fingers like steel bars that got me by the throat. Andhe'd have killed me but for a pair of hands that came out of thedarkness and got him by the throat as well."

They looked at me suspiciously until Jerningham suddenlypeered at my neck.

"Good God!" he said, "look at the marks on his throat."

They crowded round, and I laughed irritably.

"You don't imagine I dreamed it, do you. The thing thatattacked me had a grip like a mantrap."

"Tell us again exactly what happened," said Drummondquietly.

I told them, starting with my conversation with the oldgentleman that afternoon. And when I'd finished he whistledsoftly.

"Well done, Dixon: well done! It was a damned sporting thingto come here alone. But, laddie don't do it again I beg of you.For unless I'm greatly mistaken, but for our happening to arrivewhen we did your only interest by this time would have been thesite for your grave."

He lit a cigarette thoughtfully.

"Phosphorous evidently on the man's face who attacked you. Anold trick. Probably our headlights alarmed them, and the owner ofthe hands dragged him off. So that there are at least twounpleasing persons in this house beside us."

He rubbed his hands gently together.

"Splendid! At last we come to grips. Blow out those candles,boys: there's no good advertising our position too clearly. Andthen I think a little exploration of the old family mansion."

Once more we were in darkness save for the beam of Drummond'storch. He had it focused on the floor, and after a while hestooped down and examined the marks in the dust.

"What an extraordinary track," he remarked. "There doesn'tseem to be any sign of footmarks. It's one broad smear."

We crowded round, and it certainly was a most peculiar trail.In width about eighteen inches to two feet, it stretched down themiddle of the passage as far as we could see. And suddenlyDrummond turned to me with a queer look in his eyes. "You saythis face seemed to be about on a level with your chest," hesaid.

"Just about," I answered. "Why?"

"Because it strikes me that you've had even a narrower escapethat we thought," he remarked. "The thing that attacked youhadn't got any legs. It was a monstrosity: some ghastlyabnormality. The owner of the pair of hands dragged it after him,and that's the trail it left."

"It is a jolly house," murmured Darrell. "What does A. donow?"

"What the devil do you think," grunted Drummond. "A. followsthe trail, and for the love of Mike don't get behind thelight."

Now I don't suppose I should ever have thought of that. Icould see Drummond in front, his right arm fully extended,holding the torch, while he kept over to the left of the passage.Behind him, in single file, we all of us followed, and, once whenI drifted over to the right, Sinclair, who was just behind me,pulled me back.

"If anyone shoots," he muttered, "they shoot at the torch.Keep in line."

And the words had hardly left his mouth when there came anangry phut from in front of us, and a splintering of wood frombehind. Simultaneously Drummond switched off the light. Silence,save for our heavy breathing—and then once again did I hearthat ominous slithering noise.

"Look out," I cried. "That's the thing moving."

Then came Drummond's voice, sharp and insistent. "Light. Giveme light. My God! what is it?"

And never to my dying day shall I forget the spectacle we sawwhen Darrell's torch focused and steadied on Drummond. The thingwas on him—clawing at him: a thing that looked like a blacksack. Its hands were fastened on his throat, and it was by histhroat that it was supporting itself. Because it had nolegs—only two stumps. It was mouthing and gibbering, andaltogether dreadful. Some faint luminosity still remained on itsface, but in the light of the torch it was hardly noticeable. Andthen I forgot everything in watching that ghastly struggle.

The dust was rising in little eddies as Drummond moved,carrying the thing with him. Of its almost superhuman strength noone knew better than I, and in a few seconds the veins werestanding out on Drummond's forehead. Then he braced himselfa*gainst the wall, and gripped its wrists with his hands. I couldsee the muscles taut and bulging under the sleeves of his coat ashe tried to wrench the thing's hands away from his throat. But inspite of his enormous strength, he told me afterwards that butfor the knowledge of a certain ju-jitsu grip by which a man'sfingers can be forced open, the thing would have throttled himunless we had helped. As it was, help was unnecessary: themurderous hold relaxed, and, with a heave, Drummond flung thething away from him. It landed on the floor with a thud, and fora space it stood there balancing itself on its hands and glaringat us. Then, like some great misshapen ape, it disappeared up thepassage, moving on its hands and stumps.

"Good Lord!" grunted Drummond, "what a little pet."

"Where's the gun, Hugh," said Darrell curtly. His torch wasflashing on the empty passage. "Put it out, Peter," snappedDrummond. "I'm thinking that gun belonged to the other bloke.We'll follow up in darkness."

And then, before we had gone two steps, there came from infront of us a loud crash, followed by a terrible scream. Thescream was not repeated: only a low moaning noise could be heard,and after a while that also ceased. Once again the silence wasabsolute.

"For the love of Heaven," came Drummond's hoarse whisper."Keep your eyes skinned. Who is the last man?"

"I am," said Jerningham. "Don't worry about this end." Wecrept forward, guided by momentary flashes of Drummond's torch.The trail was easy to follow. It led along the passage for aboutfifteen yards, and then turned to the right through an opendoor.

"Stop here," said Drummond quietly. "I'm going in alone."

And just as little details about him had struck me before, soon this occasion did the almost incredible swiftness and silenceof his movements impress my mind. One instant he was there: thenext he was not, but no sound had marked his going.

We clustered round the open door waiting. Once a board creakedinside, and then suddenly we heard a startled exclamation, andDrummond rejoined us.

"There's something pretty grim happened," he muttered. "Standwell away from the door. I'm going to switch on the torch."

The beam flashed on, and outlined against it was the ominoussilhouette of a revolver held in his other hand. And for a spacethe two remained motionless: then the revolver fell to hisside.

"Great Scott!" he muttered. "Poor brute!"

The crash and the scream were accounted for: also the silencethat had followed. Lying motionless on the floor close to thefurther wall was the thing that had attacked him. And it neededno second glance to see that it was dead. There was a dreadfulwound in the head; in fact, it was split completely open. Andfurther details are unnecessary.

For a while we stared at it stupidly—the same thought inall our minds. How had it happened? Because save for themotionless figure on the floor the room was empty. What was itthat had struck the poor brute this ghastly blow in the darkness.Nothing had come out of the door, and the only window was boardedup.

It was a peculiar room with stone walls and a stone ceiling,and what it could have been used for in the past completelydefeated me. Let into the wall near which the body was lying weresix iron rings: except for them, the walls were absolutely bare.They were fixed in a straight line about a yard from the floor,and were three or four feet apart. And below each ring theboarding was worn away as if it had been gnawed by rats. "Didn'tthe landlord say that the farmer who was murdered kept savagedogs?" said Darrell. "He probably used those staples to chainthem up."

"Maybe he did," said Drummond grimly. "But there ain't anydogs here now, Peter, and what I want to know is what killed thatpoor brute."

Once again we fell silent staring at the twisted body.

"He looks as if he had been bashed over the head with a steam-hammer," said Jerningham at length. "That crash we heard wasit."

"Yes, damn it!" cried Drummond. "But what caused thecrash."

He took a step or two towards the body, and even as he did sothere came to me, out of the blue so to speak, an idea. What mademe think of it I don't know: what made me suddenly remember myconversation with the old gentleman that afternoon, I can't say.But the fact remains that mercifully I did. It was the remark hehad made to me that had first caused me to suspect him. I couldsee him, even as I stood there, giving me that strange,penetrating stare and saying "Was it fifth or sixth? It mightmake a lot of difference." And the dead thing was lying betweenthe fifth and sixth ring.

"I think I've got it," I said slowly. "It's part of the clue Iwas given this afternoon, and up till now I'd forgotten it."

They listened while I told them, and when I'd finishedDrummond nodded his head thoughtfully.

"You're probably right," he said. "Let's work on theassumption, at any rate."

"That's all very fine and large," grunted Darrell. "But wedon't want the same result, old boy. And it strikes me that ifyou make a mistake you won't make a second."

"I've got to chance it, Peter," answered Drummond doggedly."If Dixon is right, we're on the track of the next clue. Andnothing matters except getting that. Let's think for a moment.What's the natural thing to do when you see a ring in a wall?Pull the blamed thing, isn't it?"

"Probably what that poor brute was doing when he was killed,"said Sinclair.

"Then I will pull it, too," announced Drummond calmly.

"For Heaven's sake, man," cried Jerningham, "What's theuse?"

"That remains to be seen," said Drummond. "But we're going topull those rings—and we're going to pull 'em now. Toby, goback to the car with Algy. Keep close together going through thehouse. In the toolbox you'll find my towrope. Bring it. And don'tforget that there is at least one unconsidered little trifleloose in the house."

"If I'm right," he went on as they left the room, "the dangermust lie close to the wall. That thing never moved with a woundlike that in his head: he died on the spot where he was hit.Anyway, one must take a chance."

And his hand as he lit a cigarette was as steady as arock.

VIII. — IN WHICH WE EXPLORETHE MERE

It is nervy work waiting. I know that myfeelings were strongly reminiscent of those that I hadexperienced in France when the latest reports from the seats ofthe mighty indicated that enemy mining was proceeding underneathone's trench. To dangers seen and heard one can get tolerablyused, but the unseen, silent horror of this room was making mejumpy. I felt I almost preferred my fight in the darkness withthe thing that now lay dead.

At last, after what seemed an interminable time, Sinclair andLongworth returned with the rope.

"See anyone?" said Drummond casually.

"Not a soul. But I thought I saw a gleam of light from one ofthe top rooms," said Sinclair.

"Probably our friend of the gun. Give me the rope, and let'sget on with it."

"Look here, old man," said Darrell, "let's toss."

"Go to hell," remarked Drummond tersely. "It's good of you,Peter, old lad, but this is my show. The only point is that incase anything happens I rely on you to carry on the goodwork."

He walked across to the fifth ring and slipped the ropethrough it. Then he stepped back, and we breathed again. Nothinghad happened so far.

"Stand clear," he said. "I'm going to pull."

He gave a tug on the rope, and the next instant it waswrenched out of his hand. Some huge object had flashed downwardsthrough the beam of his torch and landed with a sickening thud onthe dead man, tearing the rope out of his grasp as it fell.Instinctively he turned the light upwards. In the ceiling was asquare, black hole, and we had a momentary glimpse of a facepeering at us through it. Then it was gone, and we were leftstaring upwards foolishly.

It was Drummond who recovered himself first.

"A booby-trap that I like not the smell of," he said savagely."Keep that hole in the ceiling covered, Ted, and shoot onsight."

It must have weighed a couple of hundredweight—the slabthat had come out of the ceiling. There was a staple let into thecentre of it, with a wire rope attached, by which it hadevidently been hoisted back into position the first time. Onecould see the faint outline of some sort of winding gear abovethe opening, but of the man who had operated it there was nosign.

"No—I like not the smell of it," he repeated grimly."It's murder—pure and simple. But if the swine thinkthey're going to stop us they're wrong."

"What's the next move?" said someone shakily.

"See what happens when we pull the sixth ring," he said. "Ifwhat Dixon said is right, that's the other important one."

"Probably the floor will give way this time." remarked AlgyLongworth gloomily. "I feel I should like a mother's soothingcomfort."

We waited tensely while Drummond again adjusted the rope. Hebegan to pull, and suddenly he gave a triumphant exclamation.

"It's moving."

It was: a crack was appearing in the wall. And then with afaint creak the whole block of stone swung round on a pivot,leaving an opening about three feet wide and six feet high.

"The poor brute was looking for that, I suppose," saidDrummond, "and in the darkness pulled the wrong ring."

He crossed the room, and then stopped abruptly. He was staringat a piece of paper fastened to the back of the part that hadmoved.

"Well done, little man," he read slowly. "Any casualties yet?But you've still got a long way to go, and I've got some farbetter jests for you before you've finished. Incidentally thecharming gentleman without any legs is an impromptu turn as faras I am concerned. I found him on the premises when I arrived,and he struck me as being quite in keeping with the generalcharacter of the house. I rather think he must be the so-calledghost, and I do hope he's behaved himself. But if he hasn't don'tblame me. His predilections seem quite delightfully murderous,and he resents any intrusion terribly. But doubtless somebodyloves him. Phyllis is still quite well, though just a leetle bitoff her food. Isn't this fun?"

"Damn the woman," said Drummond angrily. Then he began tolaugh. "Though, 'pon my soul," he went on, "if it wasn't forPhyllis, I think I should agree with her."

"Time enough for that, old boy, when we're through," saidJerningham. "Hasn't it struck you that at the moment we're in arather bad strategical position? It's a sitting shot either fromthe ceiling or through that opening."

"You've said a mouthful, Ted," agreed Drummond, "Back into thepassage, and we'll have a council of war."

The moon had risen, and an eerie half light was filteringthrough the dirty windows, making the place seem, if possible,more ghostly than before.

"Now then," said Drummond, "let's get down to the meat juice.I should think that what our one and only Irma says is right, andthat the poor devil dead in there has been responsible for allthe stories about this place. Probably used that phosphoroustrick to frighten people. Anyway, he's out."

"Next man in is the bloke with the hands who let drive withhis bundook," said Darrell thoughtfully.

"And any other little pals of his who may be lying about,"went on Drummond. "But the thing to decide is where is the nextclue?"

"The betting is a pony to a dried pea that it's down thatsecret passage," said Jerningham.

"Then down the passage we go, old son. But not all of us. Ifthis was an ordinary house I wouldn't mind. But that booby-trapin there was specially prepared, and there are probably others.The question is how many of us go. I think three are enough. Thatleaves three to guard this end. You five do fingers out for it:two of you to come."

"Let's all come in," said Sinclair. "You too, Hugh."

"No," said Drummond decisively. "I'm going, anyway. Get a moveon."

"What are fingers out?" I asked mildly.

"Laddie," said Drummond, "you may be a whale at conundrums,and I take off my hat to you over this evening's show. But youreducation is a bit deficient. At the word go, extend as manyfingers as you like in front of you. One hand only: thumbs don'tcount. Go."

I extended two: a complicated mathematical proceeding tookplace, and the winner appeared to be Sinclair. "Once again," saidDrummond. "Only the four of you. Go."

This time I extended three, and hoped for the best.

"Thirteen in all, and we start with Dixon."

"Splendid," I murmured: I didn't mind who he started with. Thepassage, in spite of the dust, was comfortable: and, as far as Icould see, the ceiling was ordinary lath and plaster.

"Come on then," said Drummond. "I'll go first, then Dixon,then Toby."

I opened my eyes abruptly. I suppose I'm not very clever atthat game. I appeared to have won, anyway, which was frightfullyjolly and all that.

"Just guard this end, you three," said Drummond. "And you'dbetter give us a couple of hours at least."

He stepped back into the room, and flashed his torch up at thehole in the ceiling. No sign of anyone, and he led the way acrossthe floor to the opening in the wall.

"Don't forget," he whispered urgently, "that anything mayhappen."

"I won't," I assured him, and wondered if a ton of masonry onone's head was a comparatively painless death.

The passage led downwards, and the walls and ceiling graduallygrew damper and damper, until large drops of water splashed on myhead at each step I took forward. Drummond was in front with historch, and progress was slow as he tested every foothold he tookbefore advancing. At length he paused, and waited for us to comeup with him.

"I believe we're under the mere," he announced.

"Hooray!" I cried enthusiastically. "I've always wanted todrown."

And suddenly he began to shake with laughter. "You pricelessbird," he remarked. "Look here—you go back—you'vedone your fair share for tonight—and Toby and I will goon."

"Be blowed for a yarn," I said. "Let's get on with it." Oncemore we crept forward, and at length the passage started to riseagain. It seemed to be bending right-handed the whole time, andwas getting drier and drier. Suddenly Drummond paused; we hadcome to a fork. To the right a flight of stone steps led upwards:to the left it continued on the level.

"Shall we try the steps first," whispered Drummond, and thenext instant he switched off his torch. For quite distinctly andfrom close to had come the sound of a woman's voice.

"It can't be possible that we've found her," he breathed.

"What—your wife?" I muttered.

"No—the other," he answered. "Supposing she didn'texpect us to track her so quickly, and as a result we've caughther up."

Once again came the voice, and this time a man spoke too.

"It's up the steps," said Drummond. "Toby—you wait here:we may be putting our heads straight into it. If anythinghappens, sprint back to the others and tell them. Dixon—youcome half way up as far as the bend."

I crept up behind him, feeling with my fingers on the walls.And suddenly I found Drummond's hand on my arm.

"Stay there," he whispered. "I'm going on alone."

Not two yards in front of us a beam of light shone out fromunder a closed door.

I waited tensely, crouched against the wall: could it bepossible that we had run this woman to earth—that she wason the other side of the door? And, if so, how many men werelikely to be with her? True, we had only heard one voice, butthat meant nothing.

With a crash Drummond flung open the door and stepped into theroom. A man and a woman were sitting at a table on which theremains of a meal were lying. Two candles guttered in the suddendraught, and with a cry of fear the woman rose to her feet.

"Keep your hands on the table—both of you," snappedDrummond.

"Who are you?" said the man in a surly voice, his eyes fixedon the revolver. "And what d'you want?"

"A little conversation, my friend," said Drummond. "In thefirst place—who are you? And who is the lady?"

He flashed his torch on her face, and stared at her intently.She was a haggard, unkempt woman. Her face was lined andwrinkled, her hair streaked with grey. And she looked mostdesperately ill.

"Never you mind who we are," said the man angrily. "It ain'tno blasted business of yours, is it? What are you doing in thishouse, anyway?"

"I admit," answered Drummond pleasantly, "that under normalcirc*mstances you would have a certain amount of justificationfor your question. But you can hardly call this house normal, canyou?"

"Are you the police, mister?" said the woman, speaking for thefirst time.

"I am not," said Drummond. "I've got nothing to do withthem."

"Well, what do you want," said the man again. "Are you one ofthe bunch who have been fooling round this house for the last fewweeks."

"We get warm," remarked Drummond. "No—I am not one ofthe bunch. At the same time, though not of them I am after them,if you get me. But for them I should not be here. Am I to takeit, then, that you disown them also."

The man cursed foully. "Disown them," he snarled. "For twopins I'd have murdered the lot."

"Then it was not you who rigged up that pleasant little booby-trap?"

"What booby-trap? Look here, mister, I'm getting fair sick ofthis. For God's sake clear out."

The woman put a restraining hand on his arm, and whisperedsomething in his ear. She seemed to be trying to pacify him, andafter a time he shrugged his shoulders and stood up. "Sorry, sir,if I lost my temper. But if you ain't the police, and you ain'tone of that bunch, then what do you want?"

"One moment," said Drummond. "Dixon," he called over hisshoulder.

"Look here," he whispered as I joined him, "would yourecognize the hands of the man who dragged that thing away fromyou?"

"I certainly should," I answered. "And it's not thisbloke."

He nodded. "Good. That's one thing settled, anyway. Now," heresumed. "I'll tell you what we want. Hidden somewhere in thischarming country mansion is a piece of paper or a letter or amessage of some sort which I am looking for. Do you know where itis?"

The man looked at the woman, and she looked at him. "I reckonI do," he said. "And it's in a place you'd never find if youlooked for ten years."

Drummond's eyes never left his face. "How do you know where itis?" he said quietly.

"Because I saw one of them people put it there," answered theman.

"Will you show me where it is?" continued Drummond.

Once again the woman bent and whispered to him.

"All right," he said. "Look here, sir, I'll show you where itis if you'll give me your word that you won't tell a living soulyou've seen us here."

And suddenly the truth dawned on me.

"I believe," I whispered to Drummond, "that this is the manwho murdered the farmer ten years ago. They've been hiding hereever since."

"Are you the man who murdered Farmer Jesson?" shot outDrummond abruptly.

The woman gave a little scream, and clutched hisshoulders.

"Never you mind who I am," he said angrily. "You've forcedyour way in here, and I've got to trust you. But unless you giveme your word to say nothing, you can damned well look for thatenvelope yourself."

"I give you my word," said Drummond quietly.

"What about your friend?"

"I speak for all of us," said Drummond. "Now lead on. Butyou'd better understand one thing, my friend. Any monkey tricks,and you'll be for it good and strong."

The man looked straight at him.

"Why should there be any monkey tricks?" he remarked quietly."All I want is to see the last of you as soon as possible. Followme."

He took a lantern off a nail in the wall and lit the candleinside. Then he led the way down the stairs.

"Who's this?" He stopped suspiciously as the light showed upToby Sinclair still waiting in the passage.

"A friend of mine," said Drummond. "My promise covershim."

"There's someone else about here, Hugh," said Toby in a lowvoice. "While you've been up there I've seen a gleam of lightalong the passage to the left, and I'm almost certain I heardmovement."

Drummond turned to the man.

"Do you hear that?" he said curtly. "Who is it?"

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Ask me another. This place has been like a rabbit warrenlately."

"Which way do we go?"

"Along there," he pointed, "where your friend says he saw thelight. Don't you want to go? It doesn't matter to me."

He stood there swinging his lantern. By its light I could seeDrummond staring at him intently: was it or was it not a trap?The man's face was expressionless: he seemed completelyindifferent as to whether we went or whether we didn't. And atlast Drummond made up his mind.

"Lead on," he ordered. "But don't forget I'm just behind you,and there will be no soft music to herald the hitting."

Certainly there was no further gleam of light from in front,and the feeble flicker of the candle only seemed to intensify thesurrounding darkness. The passage itself was opening out alittle, and the roof was higher, so that walking was easy. And wemust have gone about thirty yards when we came to a heavy woodendoor. It was open, and our guide passed through without anyhesitation.

"The note is in this room," he said, holding the lantern abovehis head. By its light we could see it was of a similar type tothe one we had just left. There was a table and a couple ofchairs, and the whole place smelt of disuse, and reeked of damp.Water dripped from the ceiling and the walls, and it struck methat wherever we had been before, we were now most certainlyunder the mere.

"Well, get it," snapped Drummond. "This place stinks worsethan a seaside boarding-house."

"It isn't quite so easy to get it," said the man, and, even ashe spoke, I knew we were trapped. A sudden look in his eyes; ascowl that was half a sneer—and then darkness. He had blownout the candle.

"Hell!" roared Drummond, and from the door the mantoughed.

"You poor boobs," came his mocking voice. "You don't knowenough to come in out of the wet."

Well—perhaps that remark was worth it to him: perhaps itwas not. It just gave Drummond time to switch on his torch. Byits light we saw the door closing, and the fingers of the man'shand round it. And the next instant a shot rang out. Forquickness of shooting combined with accuracy I would never havebelieved it possible. Drummond had plugged him through thefingers. A torrent of blasphemy came from the other side of thedoor as we sprang towards it: but we were just too late. The boltclanged home as we got there: we were shut in. And from the otherside of the door the blasphemy continued.

At last it ceased, and Drummond bent and picked something offthe floor.

"I have here," he said, "the top joint of one of your fingers.The next time I see you, my friend, you shall have it served upas a savoury."

We listened to the retreating footsteps, and he gave a shortlaugh.

"On balance I think we win," he remarked. "Peter and Co. arebound to find us, and until they do we can think out a few choicemethods of cooking fingers."

He lit a cigarette thoughtfully, and then he laughed.

"Damn the fellow! And that fish-faced woman was in it, too, Isuppose. They certainly fooled us all right."

He flashed his torch round the room. There was no trace of awindow, but of one thing there was more than a trace. It staredus straight in the face—a sheet of notepaper pinned in thecentre of the wall opposite the door. We crowded round it, and insilence we read the message written in the handwriting we weregetting to know so well.

"Will you walk into my parlour said the spider to the fly? Mydear friend, I grieve for you. This is not the old form at all.But then I always thought, little one, that your resemblance to abull in a china shop was just a little too pronounced. And thistime you've done it. Honestly I never thought the chase would endquite yet. In some ways I'm sorry: I had one or two beauties leftfor you. In fact the next clue is in tomorrow's Times, which Inow fear you will never see.

"How many of you are there in here, I wonder? That will bereported to me naturally in due course, but my woman's curiosityprompts me to put down the question now. Because I have takensteps to cover all tracks, and I fear your bodies will never berecovered.

"Goodbye, mon ami. What I shall do with Phyllis remains to beseen. Play with her a little longer, anyway, I think."

We stared at one another speechlessly. What on earth did thewoman mean—"bodies never recovered."

"That's where she's made her blooming error," gruntedDrummond. But his voice didn't carry much conviction. "Let's havea look at that door," he went on. "There must be some wayout."

But there wasn't; the door was as solid as the wall. And itwas while we were examining the bolt that a faint hissing noisebecame audible. Drummond straightened up and stood listening.

"What the deuce is that?" he muttered. "And where does it comefrom?"

Once again his torch flashed round the room. The noise wasincreasing till it was almost a shrill whistle and we located itat once. It came from a small circular metal pipe that stuck outabout three inches from the wall close by the door. I put myfinger over it: the pressure was too great too keep it there.Some gas was being pumped into the room, and the same thoughtstruck us all. There was no ventilation.

"She would seem," said Drummond calmly, "to have won. UnlessPeter arrives in time. Sorry, you chaps."

"What's the gas," cried Toby Sinclair. "I used to knowsomething about chemistry."

"Well, I didn't," said Drummond. "And whatever it is it's notlikely to be for the benefit of our health."

"Keep the torch on the pipe, Hugh," said Toby quietly. He,too, put his finger on the end, then he tasted it and smeltit.

"I wonder," he muttered, and his voice was shaking a little."No smell: practically no taste. Do you fellows mind if I take achance."

"We mind strongly if you don't," said Drummond calmly. "And doit darned quickly."

Sinclair struck a match: came a sudden little pop and from theend of the pipe there shot out a long blue flame.

"I was right," he said, wiping his forehead. "It's carbonmonoxide. Another five minutes and she would have won. As it isif we take turns at breathing through the keyhole we ought toescape with only a head like the morning after."

"Mother's bright boy," said Drummond lightly, but I saw hishand rest for a moment on Sinclair's shoulder. "Explain."

"Carbon monoxide, old boy. Don't taste, or smell, and youcan't see it. One of the most deadly poisonous gases known toscience. If you light it it forms carbon dioxide which isn'tpoisonous, but only suffocates. So if as I say we breathe throughthe keyhole in turn, and Peter isn't too long, we ought to getaway with it."

It was a weird scene—almost fantastic. I rememberthinking at the time that it simply couldn't be true; that it wassome incredible nightmare from which I should shortly wake up. Inturn we solemnly stooped down, put our mouths to the keyhole andsucked in the pure air from the other side of the door. One, two,three; one, two, three—for all the world like performingmarionettes.

It was Sinclair who noticed it first, and nudged us both todraw our attention because speaking was ill-advised. The flamewas decreasing in size. Now it was burning fitfully. At times itshot out to its original length. At others it almost died away.And then suddenly it went out altogether.

He took a piece of paper from his pocket and a pencil.

"Go on at the keyhole," he wrote. "Don't speak unless it'sessential. Room full of carbon dioxide, but no more comingnow."

One, two, three—suck; one, two, three—suck; tillmy back was aching and I cursed Darrell and the others for notcoming. Surely to Heaven it must be at least three hours by nowsince we had left them. And then another ghastly thought struckme. Even when they did come how were they going to open the doorwithout a key? And there was no key in the keyhole.

One, two, three—suck: damn this confounded woman and allher works. I felt that I would willingly have given the whole ofmy extremely modest fortune and then some to have had theprivilege of putting her in the room, and laughing at her fromthe other side of the door.

One, two, three—suck; t was becoming utterlyintolerable. Once I chanced it and took a breath in the room, andit felt as if an eiderdown had been pressed over my mouth. Carbondioxide—used-up air. Old tags of chemistry came back to mein the intervals of one, two, three—suck.

Suddenly we all of us paused instinctively: a key had been putin the keyhole. The bolt was turning, and with our heads feelingas if iron bands were fastened round them we stood and watched.Trying not to breathe, and with our lungs bursting for air wewatched the door open. A hand came round the edge—a handwith a curious red scar on the middle finger. It was the man whohad dragged the thing away from me earlier in the evening.

I signed furiously to Drummond, but as he said afterwards itwas a matter of complete indifference to him whose hand it was.All he wanted was air, and a grip on somebody's throat. He gotboth, and he was not feeling amused.

He was a big man, the owner of the hand, and he was wearingsome form of respirator. He was also a powerful man, but as Ihave said Drummond was not feeling amused. He shot across theroom, did the owner of the hand, as if he'd been kicked fromclose quarters by a mule—whilst we shot into the passage.Then having locked the door and removed the key we sat down andjust breathed. And if anybody is ever in doubt as to what is themost marvellous sensation in the world, they may take it from methat it consists of just breathing—under certaincirc*mstances.

From the other side of the door came the sound of furiousblows. He seemed to be hurling himself against it with the wholeweight of his body.

"What about it, Hugh," said Toby. "The respirator he has on isonly of use against carbon monoxide."

"Then let him have a whack at breathing through the keyhole,"said Drummond grimly. "Gosh! I wouldn't go through that last halfhour again for twenty thousand quid. Besides I want my otherlittle pal, and if I can find him he'll eat his finger here andnow."

But of neither the woman nor him was there any trace. The roomwas empty; the birds had flown. And as we stood in the passage atthe foot of the stairs that led to the room they had been in, theonly sound that broke the silence was the hoarse shouting of theman who was caught in the trap that had been laid for us.

"I think we'll let the swab out," remarked Drummondthoughtfully. "We might get something out of him."

And it is possible we might have, had not the last littleeffort in that pleasing country mansion taken place. It waspurely accidental, and I was responsible for it. About a yardalong the passage beyond the fork a steel bar was sticking outfrom the wall. It looked strong: it looked quite capable ofbearing my weight. So I sat on it, and found it was not capableof bearing my weight. It collapsed under me, and I found myselfon the floor. And even as I picked myself up there came from theroom we had left a frenzied scream of fear, and a strange rushingnoise.

Stupidly we stared at the door, focusing our torches on it.From underneath it water was pouring through. From each side,getting higher and higher, it came trickling out, until it shotlike a jet from a fountain through the keyhole.

"Run," roared Drummond. "Run like hell. If that door giveswe're done. We've let the lake in."

It was true: the meaning of the phrase about the bodies notbeing recovered was clear at last. We raced wildly along thepassage back towards the house. Would the door hold long enough?And it did—by about five seconds. We heard the crash as itgave when we were in the lowest part, and we pounded on up therise. Behind us came the swish of the water now pouring uncheckedthrough the open doorway. It came in a wall six feet high alongthe passage, and like a huge wave breaking on the shore it hurleditself after us two feet above the level of the mere, and then,angry and swirling, receded to its proper height.

In front of us we could see the opening into the house: behindus, black and evil-looking, the water still eddied and heaved. Achair which had been swept along by the torrent bobbed up anddown on the surface and then gradually became still. But of theman who had been in the room there was no trace. Hidden somewherein that underground labyrinth his body still remains, and thewaters of the mere have sealed his tomb.

Slowly we climbed the last bit of the passage and stepped intothe room.

"Thank the Lord," said Jerningham, "you're all right. We werejust coming to find you, when the most extraordinary upheavaltook place in the lake."

Dawn had come, and we followed him to the window outside.

"It's almost died away now," he went on. "But about fiveminutes ago, right out there in the centre, the water began toheave. Almost like a whirlpool. What's happened?"

"An airy nothing," remarked Drummond. "They've tried to gasus, and they've tried to drown us, and—" He broke offsuddenly staring across the mere. "It's a difficult light to seein," he said, "but isn't there someone moving over there in theundergrowth?" Personally I could see nothing, but after a momentor two he nodded. "There is. I see 'em. Two. Back from thewindow, boys: this matter requires thought. No one has come outthis way, I take it?"

"Not a soul," said Darrell.

"Then," said Drummond to Sinclair and me, "those two on theother side are fish-faced Lizzie and her gentleman friend."

"Shall we round 'em up?" remarked Toby.

Drummond lit a cigarette thoughtfully.

"I think not," he said at length. "Look here—let usconsider this matter because it seems to me that we have come tothe parting of the ways. I suppose nobody has a bottle of Bass?Bad staff work. However, let us pull ourselves together, and getthe grey matter to function."

He sighed profoundly.

"A ghastly hour to do so, but I have the glimmerings of anidea. Now, first of all there were in this house four individualsthat we know of. First, the legless bird who got a brick on hishead. Now it's possible that what she said in her note was right,and that he wasn't one of the party, but just went with thehouse. Anyway it doesn't matter, he is out of it."

He held out an enormous finger.

"That's one. Secondly, there's the bloke who pulled him offDixon, and whose face we saw through the hole in the ceiling. He,dear little chap, is very dead down below there. He'sdrowned."

Another finger joined the first.

"And short of sending down a diver his body can never berecovered. Nor any other body that might be down there. Do youget me?"

"Not the slightest," said Jerningham cheerfully. "Are thereany more down below?"

"No—and at the same time, yes," remarked Drummond.

"Lucid as ever," murmured Peter Darrell. "Hasn't anybody gotany beer to give him?"

Drummond grinned gently.

"It does sound a bit involved," he agreed. "But it isn'treally. The passage we went down runs under the mere. Moreover,since the good-looking lady and gentleman on whom we called didnot come out this way they must either still be below, or theygot out some other. If they are below they also are drowned: if,on the other hand, they got out..."

"Then they're not," said Algy brightly.

"Sit on his head," remarked Darrell.

"There were two people moving on the other side of the mere,"pursued Drummond. "So let us assume that the passage continuesunder the water and comes out in the undergrowth opposite.Further, that those two escaped. What then, my bravehearts—what then? What message of fun and laughter are theygoing to give to our little Irma?"

He paused triumphantly, and Algy scratched his head.

"Dashed if I know," he burbled.

"Sit on his head," repeated Darrell morosely.

"The last thing they saw of us," went on Drummond, "was whenwe were locked in that confounded room with carbon something orother pouring into it. And if old Toby hadn't had a brain stormthat is the last that anyone would ever have seen of us. Do youget me now? For the purposes of this little affair that is thelast that anyone will see of us."

We sat staring at him, realizing at length what he was drivingat.

"But look here," said Toby doubtfully, "if we're going on withthe chase they're bound to find out."

"Why?" demanded Drummond. "We've disguised ourselves prettyoften before. Peter, Ted and Algy will carry on as before: you,Dixon, and I are dead. Drowned, laddie, in the cold, dark watersof the mere."

"By Jove! Hugh," said Darrell thoughtfully, "I believe that isa thundering good idea."

"I'm certain it is," said Drummond. "Look here," he went ongravely, "we've seen enough tonight to realize that this isn't agame of kiss-in-the-ring. I confess that I hadn't thought thatshe would go to quite the lengths she has done. It is by a sheerpiece of luck only that one or all of us are not dead now. Don'tlet there be any mistake about that. She meant to killus—or some of us. And that gives us a foretaste of what isto come. If she has gone to these lengths in the earlier stagesof the hunt, we're going to have the devil's own time later.Well—what's she going to say to herself? She knows us ofold. She knows that if we three had been killed, you three wouldnot give up. She'll expect you after her."

Darrell nodded. "Quite right."

"So we'll have the hunter hunted," went on Drummondcheerfully. "You'll be chasing clues: they'll be chasing you andwe'll be chasing them."

"There's one small flaw in your otherwise excellent scheme," Iput in. "How are they to know that the next clue is contained inthis morning's Times? Only we three saw her message to thateffect, and we're dead."

"Damn the man," said Drummond. "He's quite right."

"Let's wait until we see the message," remarked Jerningham."It may be obviously intended for you, in which case we shouldnaturally spot it. Or it may prove necessary for us all six tocover our traces. Let's leave that for a bit. The thing that mustbe done at once is for you three to go to ground here somewhere,and for us three to register alarm and despondency. We'll go andsearch the grounds, and if by any chance we run into your twopals, we'll pretend we're looking for you. Ask them to help, orif they've seen you."

"You're right. Ted," said Drummond. "Go to it. We'll lie uphere."

IX. — IN WHICH WE GET THESECOND CLUE

And so began the second phase in this strangegame. I know that I was feeling most infernally tired and yetsleep would not come. My brain was too busy with the amazinghappenings of the previous night. Once again I saw that luminousface being dragged away from me through the darkness, and I fellto wondering what the poor brute had really been. Was the womanright in what she had written? Had this hideous, dementedcreature been the sole occupant of the house for years, and thusgiven it its bad reputation? Living by day in the secret passageunder the mere, and coming out at night if it thought intruderswere about. With a shudder I glanced through the open door whereit still lay with the stone on top of it; anyway, death had beenquick.

And then my thoughts turned to the amazing brain that hadplanned it all. What manner of woman could this be who dealt outflippant notes and death alternately? The labour of preparing themechanism for dropping that heavy stone and then pulling it upagain must have been enormous.

And suddenly Drummond spoke half to himself and half tome.

"She means to get us all: nab the whole bunch. She won't resttill she does." Then he smiled a little grimly. "And you thoughtit was a joke."

"Guilty," I acknowledged. "You must admit though that it's alittle unusual."

He laughed shortly, and then he began to frown. "I can standanything on two legs or on four," he grunted, "but thesemechanical devices don't give a fellow a chance. And I'm uneasyabout those other three. Seems to me we're letting them bear thebrunt from now on. She'll concentrate on them."

He relapsed into a moody silence, and I said nothing. Thereseemed to be nothing to say. What he feared was quite correct, orso it appeared to me. Only the merest luck had saved several ofour lives that night, and luck could not be expected to continueindefinitely. Any one of us might have pulled that fifth boltinstead of the wretched creature who now lay dead underneath it.And then, had there been time to wind it up, another might havebeen bagged as well.

That was the devil of it all: we weren't confronting ordinarydangers and risks, but specially and cunningly prepared ones. Itwas a case of the German booby-traps over again, where the mostharmless-looking objects hid delay-action mines.

"What the dickens are we going to do with that body?" saidDrummond suddenly.

"Why not put it into the water," said Sinclair, "and thenclose the passage up?"

"Not a bad idea. Stoop as you pass the window, in case thosetwo are still outside."

And so we lifted the stone sufficiently to extricate it, andcarried it down the passage to the water's edge. More wreckagehad appeared to join the chair: the place smelt and felt like acharnel-house. We toppled the poor brute in, and beat it for thehouse: anything was better than that dank deathtrap. And then wepushed on the sixth ring and the secret door slipped back intoposition.

"Thank the Lord that's over," said Toby with a sigh of relief."And all I can say is that I hope in future she confines heractivities to the open air."

Footsteps on the stairs made us step back hurriedly, but itproved to be only the other three returning.

"What luck?" cried Drummond.

"I think we've done the trick, old boy," said Darrell. "We raninto them on the other side—a woman of repulsive aspect anda man with his hand bound up. We were running round in smallcircles pretending to look for you. Incidentally, what youthought was right: that passage comes out near a broken-down oldruin on the other side. There was a rusty iron door which theyhad presumably opened. And when we saw them we told 'em the tale.Asked them if they'd noticed the extraordinary upheaval in thelake, and inquired with the utmost agitation if they'd seen threemen anywhere about. Said we'd been ghost-hunting. I don't know ifthey believed us or not, but I don't see that it matters verymuch if they did. We never let on by the quiver of an eyelid thatwe suspected them."

"What did they say?" said Drummond.

"'If your friends have been ghost-hunting,' the man said, 'Ifear they've found a very substantial one. My wife and I were outfor an early morning stroll, when we suddenly saw the upheaval inthe lake. And if you will look down that passage'—hepointed through the opening—' you will see the water. Ifear that your friends must have inadvertently found a mostdangerous piece of mechanism, which I have heard of often butnever believed to be really existent. Nothing more nor less, infact, than a diabolical arrangement for flooding the whole ofthis underwater passage which comes out into the house on theother side. Doubtless you found the opening there.'

"We did," I said, registering horror and despondency.

"'Then if your friends have not come out that end, I very muchfear they must all be drowned. For they certainly haven't comeout this.'

"'How dreadful!' said the woman, and Algy made hoarse noisespresumably meant to indicate grief."

"They were damned good," said Algy plaintively.

"My dear man, you sounded like a cow with an alcoholic stomachcough," said Jerningham.

"But what happened finally?" demanded Drummond.

"They drifted off, and it seemed to us they were still on thelookout for something. And then it suddenly struck us what itwas. It's the other bloke: the one who is drowned down below. Sowe sprinted back here in order to prevent them coming at any rateyet. As there seem to be only the two openings they're almostbound to come and examine this end as soon as we are gone. And itwas going to mess things up a bit if they found all you threehere. So what I suggest is this. You three must go to ground inreal earnest somewhere. And you must wait until we give you theall clear—in a day or two or perhaps a week."

"Go to blazes," said Drummond.

"We in the meanwhile will go and drown our sorrows in beer,and later on we'll bring you the corks to smell. We'll also get acopy of The Times, and then will come the problem of smugglingyou out of this house unseen. We'll have to discuss thatlater."

"Right you are, Peter," said Drummond. "You've about hit it.Incidentally, where shall we go to ground?"

He glanced round, and finally stared at the ceiling.

"That seems to me to be the best spot," he remarkedthoughtfully. "We know it can be inhabited because that bird wasup there. And if those two come we might be able to hearsomething. Only how the deuce do we get up there? A chair on thetop of the table and I might reach."

He could—just—and in an instant he had swunghimself through the hole and disappeared from view.

"Splendid," His face reappeared through the hole. "Plenty ofroom for all three of us. Come along, Dixon—I'll pull youup."

He got me by the wrists, and heaved me up beside him as easilyas I would lift a child. And then Toby Sinclair followed.

"Take away the chair and the table, Peter," he said. "And forthe love of Allah bring back a dozen with you in your pockets. Mymouth is like an asbestos washer."

"We'll come back, old boy, as soon as we possibly can," saidDarrell. "I'll drive your car and take Dixon's bicycle. And weshall say that you have been suddenly summoned to London forfailing to pay the poor girl her weekly postal order if anyquestions are asked."

"Say what you like," said Drummond resignedly. "But bring mebeer."

And so commenced a weary vigil. A passage, evidentlycommunicating with the rest of the network, led out of ourhiding-place, but there was no longer any incentive to explore.All we could do was to sit and wait until the others came backand told us the coast was clear. And that might not be for hours.In fact it seemed to me that anyway it would be unsafe to gobefore night if we were to succeed in getting away unseen. Whichleft us with the joyful prospect of spending fourteen or fifteenhours in the most acute discomfort.

Suddenly Drummond sat up and put a finger to his lips. I hadheard nothing myself, but as I had already discovered all hissenses seemed twice as keenly developed as my own. And after awhile I too heard a creak on the stairs outside, and thenanother.

"Not a sound," he breathed. "But if they find us we've got tosock 'em. Keep back from the opening or they may see us."

We drew back so that we could only just see the doorway, andwaited. There was someone coming along the passage now, and amoment or two later our friend of the damaged hand put his headcautiously round the corner. Then he spoke to someone behindhim.

"All right," he called out. "Come on."

The woman joined him.

"What's the use?" she said peevishly. "You're not going tofind him here."

"Cut it out," he snarled. "If Jim was in the passage when thedoor gave with the water he may have escaped up this end and bewaiting inside."

He tugged on the sixth ring, and the secret door swung openonce more. Then he disappeared down the passage while the womanleaned against the wall.

"Not a sign." He came back into the room and closed the door."But those three guys have bunged that madman's body into thewater."

He stood in the centre of the room gnawing his fingers.

"I wonder how much they knew," he muttered.

"What does it matter what they knew," said the woman. "Let'sget out of this—I'm fed up."

"You'll get a clip under the jaw in a minute," he remarked."We're getting a couple of hundred of the best for this job, andyou ain't likely ever to earn a couple of hundred pence with aface like yours."

"Well, what is it you want to know?" cried the womanirritably.

"Whether those other three guys—the ones that came downto us—are really below there."

"Heaven save the man, where else can they be?" She stamped herfoot. "You got 'em in the room, didn't you? And you locked 'em inthe room, didn't you? And you turned on the gas, didn't you? Andthey were still in the room twenty minutes after. Where else canthey be now?"

"I'd like to have seen 'em," he muttered.

"Well, since you ain't a ruddy fish, you can't," she remarked."I'm going. I want some sleep."

She paused in the doorway.

"Come on. Bill," she said in a milder voice. "It's clearenough what happened. When Jim pulled the lever he didn't get outquick enough. He got caught by the water, poor oldstiff—and he's down there himself now. And so are the otherthree."

"I suppose you're right," he answered. "We'll push off."

And then he glanced up towards the ceiling.

"What about putting that stone back?"

"Leave it," said the woman. "If anyone gets into trouble it'sgoing to be those three who were fooling around outside. Nobodyknows we've been here, and nobody ever will if you'll only get amove on instead of standing there like a dummy. Besides, youought to have that hand of yours looked at."

"Blast that big fellow," said the man venomously. "I'd givesomething to have a once over with him."

The woman laughed shortly.

"You would," she said. "From what I saw of him you'd give upevery hope of ever being recognized again. He'd eatyou—with one hand. Come on—or I'll fall asleep whereI stand. The telegraph office won't be open till nine, andthere's nothing to be done till then. You've got her address,haven't you?"

"I've got the usual one," he answered, following her from theroom.

Their voices died away as they went along the passage, and Ithought the unfortunate Drummond was going to have an apoplecticfit. "Just as we were getting something useful," he groaned. "Anaddress. The address."

"Probably only an accommodation one," said Toby sleepily."Wake me if I snore, chaps, but I must have a bit of shuteye."

And still sleep would not come to me. I got into everyconceivable position I could think of: I counted innumerablesheep going through a gate: but at the end of an hour I was widerawake than ever. The other two were peacefully unconscious, andat last I gave up trying. It was as well, in any case, that oneof us should remain on guard, and so I settled myself ascomfortably as I could and waited for the time to pass. Frombelow came the occasional crack of a board as the sun's warmthbegan to penetrate into the house, but except for that no soundbroke the silence. Seven o'clock came—eight: in myimagination I could smell the smell of hot coffee and bacon andeggs. I could see racks of toast and marmalade disappearing downthe throats of the other three thugs at the Angler's Rest. And Iwondered why Heaven was treating me so. To the best of my beliefI was no worse than other men. Within reasonable limits I hadpaid my just whack of Income Tax: I had, only recently,registered enjoyment over the acidulated beverage which my AuntJane fondly imagined to be port. And as a reward I found myselfsitting in an attic, several inches of dust and a bad smell on abeautiful summer's morning. Moreover when I gazed into the vistaof the future all I could see was myself disguised as a Germantourist or the hind legs of a cow having fun and games in evenmore damnable spots than the one in which I was at present.Emphatically not what the doctor had ordered....

I shifted my position so as to distribute the cramp moreevenly throughout my anatomy, and in doing so I saw into the roombelow. Just the same except that the shadow thrown by the opendoor had moved as the sun got higher. A simple little problem intrigonometry, I reflected. If the door was eight feet high andthe shadow was nine feet long what was the height of the sunabove the horizon? Door over shadow was tangent of the angle. Orwas it cosine? Anyway one would want a book of logarithms.... Onewould want...

My tongue grew suddenly dry. The height of the sun above thehorizon had nothing to do with the sudden eddy of dust thatswirled up in the passage outside. Nor had it anything to do withanother shadow that had just appeared—the shadow of a humanbeing. Someone was outside: someone whom I could notsee—yet.

I glanced round at the other two. They were six or seven feetaway: to wake them up would cause noise. Moreover they weresleeping silently, so it was best to leave them as they were.

Once more I turned back to the room: the shadow hadmaterialized. Standing in the doorway was a woman—one ofthe most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life. I put herage at about thirty, though it may have been two or three yearsmore. She was, as far as my masculine eye could judge, perfectlydressed—but it was her face, or rather her expression, thatheld me spellbound. There was contempt in it, andhatred—and yet, mingled with them, a sort of pity andregret. Once her eyes travelled to the bolts in the wall, and shesmiled—a lazy, almost Oriental smile. And then she did anextraordinary thing. Still standing motionless she glancedupwards. Not at me, not at the hole in the ceiling, but as awoman looks up in prayer. The whole expression of her face hadchanged: there was in it now a wonderful triumph. Her eyes werehalf-closed: her whole body seemed to relax into utter surrender.And suddenly she spoke:

"I would have kept him till last, my loved one—but itwas not to be. But there are still the other three—and her.After, I will come to you."

And then it seemed to me that she took in her arms a head Icould not see—and kissed lips that to her were real.Lingeringly, passionately as a woman kisses her lover. Graduallyher arms fell to her side, and for a while she stood with herface transfigured and her eyes closed. Then she drew herself up:the vision had vanished. She gave one more glance round the roomand was gone, leaving no trace of her visit save a faint, elusivescent. Jasmine, and yet not quite jasmine—something I hadnever smelt before, something I could never mistake in thefuture. Something unique, something in keeping with the womanherself. For she had seemed to me in that moment of self-revelation, when she spoke to the unseen, to be of the type forwhom men will sacrifice their honour and even their lives.

Stiffly, like a man waking from a dream, I moved over toDrummond and shook him by the shoulder.

"What is it?" he said, instantly awake.

"Your friend Irma has been here," I answered quietly.

"What!" he almost shouted. "Then why in hell..."

He was standing up in his excitement, but with an effort hepulled himself together. "How do you know it was her? Tell meabout it."

He listened in perfect silence whilst I told him what I hadseen.

"I couldn't wake you without making a noise," I said when Ihad finished. "And I don't know," I added candidly, "that I couldhave wakened you anyway. I watched that woman almost as if I hadbeen in a trance. But one thing is certain—she thinks youare dead. Another thing is certain—she is going for theother three. And your wife. And then she will commitsuicide."

"You think she's mad," said Drummond.

"No, I don't think that she's mad. I think she's moredangerous even than that. She's a woman with an obsession—amission in life. That man she spoke to was real to her—asreal as you are to me. He is still her lover though he is dead.And her mission is to revenge his death. She's got foreign bloodin her, and if I wanted any more proof than I have had already asto the seriousness of this show I've got it now. This is avendetta—and only your deaths will finish it."

"Perhaps it's as well he didn't wake you up, Hugh," said Tobythoughtfully. "You can bet she's covered her traces prettyeffectually, and what could you have done if you had caught her?It wouldn't have helped you to find Phyllis. In addition you'dhave given away the fact that you're not dead."

"You may be right," agreed Drummond at length. "But, by Jove!I'd like to have seen her. You'd recognize her again, Dixon?"

"In a million," I said. "And I'd recognize that scent."

"Which is less likely to change than her appearance," heremarked shortly. And then he frowned suddenly. "You're quitecertain, aren't you, that it was genuine—this performanceof hers? I mean you don't think that she knew we were here anddid it to bluff us."

"If that show wasn't genuine," I said, "she is the mostmarvellous actress the world has ever seen. No: I'm certain itwas pukka."

He grunted thoughtfully and sat down again. "Perhaps so," hesaid after a while.

"Besides," I went on, "what could be her object in doing it ifshe knew we were here?"

"When you know the lady as well as I do," he answered, "you'llrealize that she doesn't conform to ordinary rules."

He relapsed into silence, his chin sunk on his chest, and forthe first time the full realization of what we were engaged incame to me. Before, this woman had been a legendary figure, awriter of would-be flippant letters, a maker of skilfully deviseddeathtraps. Dangerous certainly—more thandangerous—but with at any rate some idea of making asporting game of it. I had believed that if we did pull through,if we did follow the clues successfully, she intended to play thegame and restore Drummond's wife to him. And I had believed thatshe proposed to give us a sporting chance of so doing. Now Ibelieved it no longer.

However much Drummond might doubt it I knew that what I hadseen was genuine. The woman had ceased to be a legend and hadbecome a reality—a reality ten times more dangerous thanany legend. Gone was any hope of a sporting chance: she meant andalways had meant to kill the lot of us. What strange jink in herbrain had made her decide on this particular method of doing sowas beside the point—probably the same jink that makes acat play with a mouse before finishing it off. The cruelty thatlies latent in the female. And she was gratifying that whilstpursuing her inexorable purpose. Letting us think we were playinga game, whilst all the time she had no intention of playingherself. Letting us think we had a chance of success, whilst allthe time we had none.

For what chance had we? True by the most marvellous fluke wehad escaped the night before—but flukes cannot continueindefinitely. Sooner or later she would have us, as she hadalways meant to have us. And the cellar below showed exactly theamount of mercy we should receive.

What chance had Drummond against such an antagonist? I glancedat him, sunk in thought, his great fists clenched by his side.Let him get his hands on anything on two legs—well andgood. God help the thing! But this wasn't a question of brutestrength: this was a question of cunning and brain. This wasn'tman to man: this was a human being against mechanical traps.Strength was of no avail against poison gas and speciallyprepared devices.

I wondered if he was even now thinking out some plan of-campaign. To meet guile with guile was our only hope, and somehowhe didn't strike me as being the right man for that. Something tohit hard and often and he won in a canter: but first find thething to hit. "Gosh! I hope they've brought the beer."

I sighed a little wearily: such was our leader's mentality."Doubtless they will when they come," I assured him.

"When they come!" he grunted. "You wouldn't hear a howitzergoing off in the next room, laddie. They have come. That flat-footed blighter Algy has fallen over his own feet twice already.Cultivate the old ears, Dixon: in the dark they're worth more toyou than your eyes."

"Damn the man," I reflected, but a suitable reply eluded me.For I could hear absolutely nothing even then. "I wonder if theybutted into little Pansy?" He got up and yawned prodigiously, andas he did so I heard cautious footsteps coming along the passage.The next moment Peter Darrell appeared in the door followed bythe other two. "All right, Hugh?"

"Thirsty, Peter—darned thirsty. Where's the ale?" Helowered himself though the hole and dropped to the floor.

"We've got a dozen, old boy. Is that enough?"

"Do you drink beer, Dixon?" asked Drummond, looking up.

"Not usually at this hour of the morning," I answered. "ThankGod for that," he said in a relieved voice. "It's a mostdeplorable habit, and I'm glad you don't suffer from it.Incidentally, chaps, you haven't run into Irma by any chance,have you?"

"Well I'm damned!" Jerningham glanced at Darrell. "Why do youask, Hugh?"

"Because according to Dixon the poppet has been here, holdingspiritual converse with our late lamented Carl. Of course hedoesn't know the darling by sight, and Toby and I were bothasleep. But from his account of the interview it must have beenher." He paused with his glass half way to his mouth. "Have youseen her?"

"As we were leaving the village, old boy," said Jerningham, "aclosed car, going fast, met us. And as we passed it a womanlooked out of the window. Peter was driving, and Algy was in hisusual condition of comatose imbecility, so it was only I who sawher. I just got a fleeting glimpse, but I thought it was Irmamyself. I wasn't sure; but from what you say it must have been. Itried to get the number of the car, but the road is dusty and Icouldn't see it. And then just as I was telling Peter, we wentand punctured. Otherwise we could have followed. What did shecome here for?"

"To gloat over my corpse, Ted, and to assure Carl that youthree weren't forgotten," said Drummond. "She's out for the lotof us."

"Bless her little heart," remarked Peter. "But she'll have tobe a bit more explicit as far as I'm concerned."

He produced a copy of The Times from his pocket.

"Here's the invitation to the party: but Allah alone knowswhat it means."

He pointed to two verses in the Personal Column. They wereheaded—To dear Hugh.

A lily with the plural put before. A thing of beauty, but inthis case, more Like the fair lady whom you met last night. Whenfound, at any rate, you'll start quite right. Dipped in the riverStyx one part alone stayed dry. Leave out the next, but take thecry Of every schoolboy. That should give a man. And now, you poorfish, find it if you can.

"Does anyone know the story of the girl who went to a fancydress ball dressed as a lily," said Algy hopefully.

"Sit on his head," groaned Peter. "What the hell does itmean?"

X. — IN WHICH THE THIRDCLUE IS SOLVED

I have said earlier that this is my first essayin writing, but I should imagine that one of the rules must be torefrain as far as possible from boring the misguided optimistswho are endeavouring to wade through the completed effort. And,therefore, I will refrain from giving any description of the restof that day. It had been unanimously decided that it would beunsafe for Drummond, Sinclair and me to leave before nightfall ifwe were to avoid any risk of being spotted. And so beyondmentioning that the beer expired shortly after midday, that TobySinclair revoked twice at bridge and was soundly beaten byDrummond for his pains, and that I got an acute attack of thehiccoughs due to ale on an empty stomach, I will draw a veil overour doings. Quiet reigned on the Western Front, broken only bythe curses of the particular individual who was, at the moment,wrestling with the doggerel in The Times.

Drummond from the outset gave it up. With a graceful movementof the hand he waved it from him, as a child might wave a plateof prunes and semolina pudding, Algy Longworth having at last gothis story about the lily off his chest was found guilty oftelling the world's hoariest chestnut, and having been throwninto the passage refused to play any more. So it was left to therest of us to try and solve it. And honesty compels me to admitthat we failed—utterly. It seemed completelymeaningless.

'A lily with the plural put before.'

That seemed to give Slily. Toby Sinclair insisted that therewas a loch of that name somewhere in the Hebrides, but on beingpressed was not quite sure it wasn't an island off the coast ofCork. And that was about as far as we got. Except for Achilles: Igot that.

'Dipped in the river Styx one part alone stayed dry.'

That seemed to point to the Achilles Statue, an unsuitablespot, as Drummond pointed out moodily, for erecting a booby-trap.And we were all somewhat moody when we left at ten that night forhis house in London. Concealment was necessary and personally Iwas hidden under a rug at the back of the first car. Before thatI had always felt a certain contempt for individuals whoendeavour to evade paying for a railway ticket by travellingunder the seat. Now I regard them with nothing short ofadmiration. To walk is a far, far better thing.

But we arrived at length, and having got Algy Longworth's shoeout of my mouth we crept through two dustbins to the back door.It was a risk coming to his house at all but it had to be run,since all his props for makeup were there. And after a shortpause the door was opened by a manservant, who evinced not theslightest surprise at the sight of the procession.

"Have you seen any one loitering about the house, Denny?" saidDrummond as the door closed behind us.

"No, sir. But a man called this afternoon and asked foryou."

"What sort of a man?"

"A stranger, sir. And I am inclined to think, not anEnglishman."

"What did you say?"

"The truth, sir. I said you were away from home."

Drummond looked thoughtful.

"Look here, Peter—we've got to try and ride them off.I'm tolerably certain we weren't spotted coming in here, but itlooks as if they were watching the front. Go with Ted and driveup openly to the house. Ring the bell. When Dennycomes—tell him the news in a voice broken with grief. Tellhim I'm dead. Tell him twice if you think the blighter outsidehasn't heard. Denny—you will clutch the door, turn palewith anguish and sob out—' No man had ever a bettermaster.' And for God's sake don't breathe port all over thestreet. After that, Peter, you three go off to your rooms andwait for further orders. Somehow or other we've got to solve thisconfounded thing."

"Right-ho, old boy, I'll pitch Denny the tale. And then we'llwait to hear further from you."

And it was while we were waiting for them to come that I hadan idea. Old Tom Jenkinson. If any man in London could solve ithe could. A former schoolmaster of mine now retired, and a memberof my club. He still appeared to regard me as a dirty andinkstained schoolboy. But over acrostics, riddles or crosswordshe was a perfect genius. I said as much to Drummond.

"Splendid," he remarked. "Is he likely to be at the clubnow?"

"Never leaves it before midnight."

"Then go and scribble a line to him, old boy, explaining whatwe want—and I'll send it round by Denny. You'll find paperin that room up there, but see that the curtains are pulled tightbefore you switch on the light."

Dear Mr Jenkinson, (I wrote)

I would be deeply obliged to you if you would send me thesolution of the enclosed rhyme. It represents a town or localityor place of some sort, presumably in the British Isles. It is amatter of urgent importance that I should get the answer as soonas possible. Knowing you I feel sure that you can solve it atonce, and the bearer of this note will wait for a reply. I hopeMrs Jenkinson is in the best of health.

Yours sincerely,

JOE DIXON

"Splendid," said Drummond. "Peter has been, and according toDenny there was a man loitering by the railings who overheardwhat was said. Moreover, he's gone now, so it may have done somegood. Anyway we'll send Denny round with that note at once."

"Go out by the back door," he said as his servant came in,"and take this to the Junior Reform. Wait for an answer. Anddon't forget—if anyone asks you—I'm dead."

"Very good, sir," said the man impassively. "There is a newcask, sir, behind the door."

"A good fellow," remarked Drummond. "And improved considerablysince the death of his wife. She was a muscular woman and amartyr to indigestion, and the result left much to bedesired."

He lit a cigarette, and began pacing up and down the room.

"Lord! but I hope this old buster of yours solves it," he saidonce or twice.

"If he doesn't, it's insolvable," I assured him. "But there'sjust a chance, of course, that he may not be in London."

And the instant I'd said it I regretted having spoken. Hisface fell, and he stared at me blankly.

"If so," I hastened to add, "we can always get him through,the club. Letters will be forwarded."

"But it means delay," he muttered. "More hanging about."

An hour passed, and two, and suddenly he lifted his headlistening.

"Denny's back," he said. "Now we shall know."

His voice was quiet, but there was a strained look in his eyesas he watched the door. Should we have the answer, or did it meanfurther waiting? And mercifully it was the former, his servanthad brought an answer. I opened it, and the others listenedbreathlessly.

'Dear Dixon, (it ran)

'Before giving you the solution of your ridiculous littleproblem there are one or two points to which I would draw yourattention. In days gone by, when you went, if memory serves mearight, by the name of Stinkhound, I endeavoured, for my sins, toteach you the rudiments of English composition. Why then do youoffend my eyes, and give me further proof, if such were needed,of my complete failure, by using the word 'would' twice in thefirst sentence. 'I should be,' not 'I would be,' is the correctopening to your ill-written missive. Again, if the matter is ofurgent importance, obviously you require the answer as soon aspossible—a clear case of tautology. Lastly, your interestin Mrs Jenkinson's health, though doubtless well meant, is alittle tardy. She died some five years ago.

'However—to your problem. My opinion of your intellectwas always microscopic: even so, it is incredible that any oneout of an asylum could have failed to solve it atsight—knowing that it was meant to represent a place. Letus take the first stanza. Clearly the last line has nothing to dowith it: it is put in to cheer you on when you have interpretedthe other three. Now, of course, I do not know the nature of thelady you met last night: your repellent habits are, I am glad tosay, a closed book to me. But in this case she was obviously nota thing of beauty. Ergo—she was ugly or plain. But fewplaces contain the letters UGLY: whereas there are many Plains inthe British Isles. One in particular leaps to themind—Salisbury Plain.

'You may at this point ask what relation Salisbury has to alily with the plural put before. Knowing your abysmal ignoranceof everything remotely approaching to culture you probably will.The ancient name for Salisbury, my dear Dixon, was Sarum. To thisday you will see the word written on many of the milestonesaround the town. Well, I suppose even you have heard of an ArumLily. And therefore the first stanza is solved and givesus—Salisbury Plain, a large area—comprising as itdoes a considerable portion of the County of Wiltshire.

'The second stanza is clearly designed to narrow our field. Itdoes—to a remarkable degree. The first line could, ofcourse, be solved by a child of six. But as Ruff's Guide to theTurf is doubtless more familiar to you than Homer's Iliad I shallassume that your mind has not even reached that infantilestandard. Achilles was the son of Peleus by Thetis, one of theNereids. And ancient mythology tells us that to make himinvulnerable she dipped him in the Styx, holding him by the heel.Hence the phrase, the heel of Achilles which was the only partthat remained dry. The first line therefore gives us Heel.

'The cry of every schoolboy.'

'What the repulsive little horrors call it now I do notknow—but when you were one of them, what word rose mostoften to your lips? What was your moan—your everlastingbleat? Tuck. You gorged your bellies on tuck, and slept, as aresult, in school—making disgusting noises. Tuck,Stinkhound—tuck.

'That should give a man.'

'Have you never read 'Ivanhoe'? Have you never heard of RobinHood, and the fat and jovial Friar Tuck, his constant companionand father confessor?

'And so we have Heel, Tuck and Friar. A glance at the versewill show us that Tuck is to be left out—and that reducesus to Heel and Friar.

'On Salisbury Plain is an ancient Druidical temple known asStonehenge. Outside the main circle is a great stone—thesun-stone. This is the point where a spectator, centrally placedwithin the temple, would see the sun rise on Midsummer Day. Andthe common name for the sun-stone is the Friar's Heel.

'Wherefore, the solution of your childish effusion is themonolith known as the Friar's Heel at Stonehenge on SalisburyPlain. And in conclusion I can only endorse most wholeheartedlythe terse and apt description of you given in the middle of thelast line.

'Faithfully yours,

'THOMAS JENKINSON.

'PS—I have often wanted to know one thing. Were you orwere you not the miserable little boy who first nicknamed me WartHog and the late Mrs Jenkinson Slab Face? A nickname—like acaricature—should bear some relation to the truth, Dixon,if it is to be considered clever. And to call me a Wart Hog ispositively stupid.'

"I got Achilles at any rate, confound the old ass," Iremarked, as I put the letter down. "Well—there you are.Now we know."

"Stonehenge," said Drummond. "Close to Amesbury."

"With cantonments all round it," put in Toby Sinclair. "Imotored past it last summer."

"How far away?" Drummond looked at him thoughtfully. "Ihaven't been there since I was a kid, and there was nothing builtthen."

"I suppose about a mile to the nearest," said Sinclair."Perhaps less. And there's another thing, too. By day there arehordes of trippers all over the place—guides and all thatsort of stunt. You've got to pay to go in."

"So nothing can happen by day. And by night—with troopsas close as that—they will have to be careful."

He went to the telephone, and gave a number.

"Peter," he said as soon as he got through, "come round atonce—all of you. Back door, as before."

He sat down and stared at me.

"I wonder what is the best rig for you," he pondered. "In away, you're the least important as only the man and the woman oflast night know you."

"And our venerable friend of the Angler's Rest," I remindedhim.

"True. I'd forgotten him. Still a moustache, a pair ofspectacles and the earnest air of a tourist should meet the case.And if you see any of those three, efface yourself.Toby—I've got a very good line in elderly professors foryou. Butterflies, I think. You can gambol lightly over SalisburyPlain making a noise like a killing-bottle."

"Thanks, dear old boy," said Sinclair. "What are you going tobe?"

"That remains to be seen," answered Drummond with an enigmaticsmile. "I've got two or three half formed ideas."

The smile faded slowly from his face.

"But whatever it is, I'm thinking that the sooner we begin toput the fear of God into this bunch the better."

And I realized suddenly how he had earned the sobriquet ofBulldog.

A minute or so later Peter Darrell and the other two camein.

"You've solved it?" asked Jerningham eagerly.

"A pal of Dixon's has," said Drummond. "A stone called theFriar's Heel at Stonehenge. You can read the letter later."

"And you can read this one now," said Darrell. "Delivered byhand."

It consisted of one line.

'Read today's Times. Personal column.'

"So she really does think we're dead, Peter." Drummond rubbedhis hands together. "Excellent. However, let's get down to it. Inthe first place, from now on you three have got to run this showalone. Officially, that's to say. And, dash it all, I don't likeit."

"Cut it out, you ass," laughed Jerningham.

"It's all very fine and large, Ted—but they meanbusiness. And I don't want any casualties. I believe that whatDixon said is absolutely right. Whether she is insane or not isbeside the point: there's not much sign of insanity about herplans up to date. But from what he heard her say this morning weare all for it, and Phyllis as well, before she goes to joinPeterson. She was never remarkable, was she, for the quality ofmercy. And now that she's obsessed with this idea, she will beutterly merciless. It's revenge run mad. So for the love ofHeaven be careful. I'd never forgive myself if one of you took itin the neck."

"We'll be careful all right, old boy," said Darrell quietly."But Phyllis has got to be found, hasn't she?"

"I know that. But I'm wondering if it wouldn't be better foryou three to chuck it and leave it to me."

"We have but little desire for a rough house," saidJerningham, "but there's going to be one in a moment unless youcease talking tripe."

"Well, well; so be it," grinned Drummond. "But I thought I'djust mention it. So as I said before—let's get down to it.From what Toby says, the place is stiff with people all the day.So by day there can't be any risk. Now, it's possible that all weare going to get there is another clue—in fact, it'sprobable. I really don't see how they can rig up anything in apublic place like that which can be dangerous—even atnight. And so as I see it—there's just one thing to fear,and that can only happen at night."

"What's that?" said Darrell.

"Common or garden murder, Peter," said Drummond gravely."There may be a clue; on the other hand, it may be a trap."

"Murder," I said doubtfully. "In a place like that."

"Why not?" said Drummond coolly. "What leads in nine cases outof ten to the discovery of a murder? Motive. And what possibleknown motive is there for killing any of them. We know themotive: who else does? If we told this story to the police we'dbe laughed out of court."

"And Phyllis would pay the price," said Jerninghamgravely.

"We know they are utterly unscrupulous: we know that theyintend to kill them. What more likely than that they'll have adip at it at the Friar's Heel. And that is a thing I do notpropose to risk unless it is absolutely essential. No, Peter, mymind is made up, old boy—so there's no use your lookinglike that. I promise you that when it is necessary, I'll send foryou."

"What is your suggestion, Hugh?" said Jerningham after awhale.

"This, Ted. From what Dixon overheard Irma say, this littleshow will not be concluded until they've got you—all three.I may be wrong, but I don't think they will try for you inLondon: in her own distorted way she is going to play this gamethrough to the end in the way she intended. And, therefore,nothing further will take place until you come to the Friar'sHeel. Now my proposal is this. But for this freak pal of Dixon's,Heaven alone knows when we should have solved that last clue. Sothere will be nothing surprising about it if you take at least acouple of days over finding the answer. And during those twodays—or until I wire for you—you will remain inLondon, ready to leave the instant you hear from me."

"And you three?" asked Darrell.

"We'll go down in disguise and spy out the land. Maybe weshall find nothing; maybe the clue, if there is one at theFriar's Heel, will only be given to one of you. If so, I'll wireyou. But it's possible that we shall find the clue, and get ashort cut to what we want."

"I don't like it, Hugh," said Jerningham.

"Ted, old boy, it's best from every point of view. I don'twant one of you killed—or the lot. And, my dear old lad,they mean business. Supposing you were all killed, from anotherpoint of view altogether—where should we be? Ignorant ofwhere Phyllis is, with the game over as far as they areconcerned. The whole bunch of us wiped out. The only person leftthen to finish off is Phyllis. There are such things as silencersfor guns, laddie, as we know only too well. No, no: it'sabsolutely obvious. We'll go first and see what we can find out.If we find out nothing—then you come in. If, on thecontrary, we get on their tracks—then you still come in,but in a far sounder strategical position than if you went downnow. Because when you arrive they will think the Friar's Heel isyour objective, whereas in reality it won't be. They will lie upfor you there, and you will short-circuit them."

"He's right, Ted; perfectly right," said Darrell unwillingly."I wish he wasn't; but he is."

"So I shall rig up Toby and Dixon tomorrow, and they will goto some pub in Amesbury."

"What's your own game, Hugh," said Algy.

"That, old boy, you will know in due course. For the timebeing I think it's best that none of you should know. It's goingto be touch and go—this show—and I'd sooner have anabsolutely free hand. And finally, don't forget the old FrothBlower's dirge. Twice for danger."

"Froth Blower's?" I asked. "Is that the thing I've heard yousinging?"

"Laddie," laughed Drummond, "you can't be real. When peacecomes your education shall be taken in hand. Now is allclear?"

"Absolutely," said Darrell.

"Then a long night in, chaps. We'll want all we can get in thesleep line. And one other thing. If you want to get me, drop aline to John Bright at the Post Office, Amesbury."

They went casually with a nod and a grin—did the otherthree; demonstrativeness was not a characteristic of this crowd.But when they'd gone, Drummond sat for some time staring in frontof him with his beer untasted on the table at his side. And atlast he rose with a grunt. "Come on; bed. I hope to Heaventhey'll be all right in London."

He showed me to my room, where a pair of his pyjamas had beenlaid out.

"Hope they won't be too small," he said with a grin. Then hepaused by the door. "Deuced good of you and all that, Dixon, tomix yourself up in this show. Though, 'pon my soul, I don't knowwhat we'd have done without you."

And, astounding though it may seem, I can recall no remarkmade to me in my life that has occasioned me greater pleasure.Whether it had anything to do with it, I don't know, but certainit is that no sooner had my head touched the pillow than I wasasleep. And the next thing I knew was his servant shaking me bythe shoulder the next morning.

"Nine o'clock, sir," he said. "And the Captain would like youto come along to the music-room as soon as you've had yourbath."

The music-room appeared to be so-called because there was notrace of any musical instrument in it. It resembled nothing somuch as an old clothes shop. Suits of all sorts and descriptionslittered the floor; wigs, false hair and the usual makeupappliances were on the table. Drummond was standing in the middlewith two complete strangers by him. One of them was obviously ofthe hairdresser type; the other was an elderly man of scholasticappearance.

"Morning, Dixon," said Drummond. "Now, Albert, there you are.What are we to do with him? A minimum on his face, because he'snot used to it."

The hairdresser man eyed me critically.

"I thought a moustache," went on Drummond. "And glasses. ForMr Seymour. Don't forget, Dixon—Fred Seymour."

"Can't we dispense with the moustache?" I said. "It's certainto fall off at the wrong moment."

"Not as I shall fix it, sir," said the hairdresser in a painedvoice. "Will you kindly take a seat here?"

"Who is the old bloke?" I whispered to Drummond as I passedhim.

"My dear fellow," he cried, "excuse me. I quite forgot. Thisis a very old friend of mine—Professor Stanton—MrDixon. He's come to give Toby some advice on butterflies."

"A fascinating hobby, Mr Dixon," remarked the Professor, and Istared at him in amazement. Surely I knew that voice.

"Great Scott," I muttered. "It's you, Sinclair."

They all laughed.

"What an amazing disguise," I cried. "But for your voice I'dnever have known you."

"And under the ministrations of the excellent Albert theresult will be the same in your case," remarked Drummond. "Thewhole essence of disguise, Dixon, is to make it as simple aspossible, and therefore as unnoticeable."

He was watching Albert's efforts as he spoke.

"Most people are extraordinarily unobservant," he went on. "Ifyou wear different clothes to usual, alter your walk a little,and put on a pair of dark spectacles, you'll pass nine people outof ten that you know in the street without being recognized.Whereas if you wear a large red nose and fungus all over yourface you may not be recognized, but you'll certainly be noticed.And once you're noticed the danger begins. Albert, I think arespectable bank clerk of about thirty-five is what we want."

He began rummaging in the pile of clothes.

"We'll give you a rather badly cut suit of plus fours, and acap. Horn rimmed spectacles, Albert. Now let's have a look athim."

The three of them stared at me critically.

"Get into these clothes," said Drummond. "I can't be sure tillyou're out of that dressing-gown."

I contemplated the garments with distaste. "I suppose thereare people who wear things like that," I remarked, "or nobodywould make them."

"It's a misfit," he said. "I bought a dozen of 'em once, andthat's about the last. Don't mind if your stockings come down abit; it helps the effect. Yes, Albert: that will do."

"I think so, sir," said Albert complacently, and at thatmoment I saw myself in the glass.

The shock was ghastly, but at the same time I was forced toadmit that the result was amazing. I do not look at my face moreoften than necessary as a general rule, it shakes me too badly tosee it. But the reflection that confronted me as I stood therewas that of a complete stranger. Moreover, it was true to type. Ihad seen hundreds of similar examples at the seaside duringAugust, or on char-a-banc trips.

"Then that's finished," said Drummond. "Now the only pub, asfar as I can make out, is the Amesbury Castle. I think you'dbetter arrive separately, and you can strike up an acquaintanceafterwards."

He smiled suddenly and held out his hand.

"Thank you, Dixon; I'll take charge of that."

"Charge of what?" I said blankly.

"Blokes dressed like you, old boy, do not use expensive goldand platinum cigarette cases with Asprey written all over 'em.We'll put that in my safe, and here is a tasty little thing inleather. Nor, laddie, do most bank clerks smoke Balkan Sobranies.I suggest the perfectly good yellow packet...."

"I loathe Virginian cigarettes," I groaned.

"Well," he conceded, "you may smoke cheap Turkish if you like.But a Balkan Sobranie would shout aloud to heaven. Anything more,Toby?"

"Nothing, I think, Hugh. We aren't to know you, are we?"

Drummond smiled. "You won't know me, Toby," he said quietly."All you've got to do is to keep your mouths shut, and your eyesopen—and if you want me, John Bright at the Post Officefinds me. If I want you I'll let you know."

He grinned again. "So long, boys. Leave the house by the backdoor separately, and for Heaven's sake, Dixon, try not to appearself-conscious. Be a city clerk: don't only look it."

Which was a policy of excellence, but not quite so easy as itsounded. As I walked along Berkeley Street I felt that everybodywas looking at me. And when I ran straight into a woman I knewopposite the Ritz, I instinctively lifted my cap. She stared atme in blank surprise, and I dodged down Arlington Street torecover. Ass that I was—giving myself away at the veryfirst moment. But after a while confidence began to return. Irealized that though Joe Dixon would have caused a mild sensationgarbed as I was—Fred Seymour caused none at all. And Ifurther realized that if I as Joe Dixon had met me as FredSeymour, I should have paid no attention to me. Fred Seymour wasjust one of a numerous type—no more conspicuous than anyother individual of that type. The truth of Drummond's remarkabout the red nose was obvious. I was just an inconspicuous unitamongst thousands of others.

And so, as I say, gradually my confidence returned. I walkednormally, and to test myself I determined to pass thecommissionaire outside my club. I looked him straight in theface: he returned the look without a sign of recognition. And heon an average must see me five hundred times a year.

A sudden thought struck me: I had no baggage. For a while Idebated between the rival merits of a rucksack and a handbag,deciding finally on the former. Then I bought a couple of shirtsand some socks, and thus equipped, I made my way to Paddington.The last phase of the game, though I little knew it, hadbegun.

XI. — IN WHICH I GO TOFRIAR'S HEEL BY DAY

Up to this point the telling of my story hasbeen easy, even if the manner of the telling has been crude andpoor. But from now on it becomes more difficult. Things happenedquickly, and we were all of us scattered in a way we had not beenbefore. In fact, for the greater part of the time, the onlymember of the bunch who I was able to talk to was Toby Sinclair.But I will do my best to make clear the happenings that led up tothat last astounding dénouement, which even now seems likesome fantastic nightmare to me. And if some of those happeningsare boring I can only crave pardon, and assure my readers that itis necessary to write of them for the proper understanding ofwhat is to follow.

I arrived then, at the Amesbury Castle in time for a latelunch. It was a typical hotel of the English country town,relying more, I should imagine, on lunches and dinners to pay itsway than on people taking a bed. The food was of that grim naturewhich one associates with hotels of the type—plain andtough. An aged waiter, with most of yesterday's ration on hisshirt front, presided over the dining-room, and looked at me in apained way as I came in.

"Very late, sir," he remarked.

"And I am very hungry," I answered cheerfully. He polished amenu card morosely on his trousers.

"Mutton hoff," he said. "Beef, 'am, tongue—andpertaters. Been a run on the mutton today," he addedconfidentially.

I gazed at the flies making a run on the beef and decided onham and tongue.

"Many people staying here?" I asked.

"Full up for lunch," he said. "And the hotel be fairly full,too. A bunch of people came last night. Lumme! 'ere'sanother."

I glanced at the doer to see Toby Sinclair coming in.

"Splendid," he cried, in a high voice that nearly made melaugh. "Food, waiter, for the inner man, and then to resume mysearch. Tell me, have you seen a Phragmatobia fuliginosa?"

The waiter recoiled a step.

"A'ow much," he demanded. "There's beef, 'am, tongue andpertaters."

"And only this morning," went on Toby, "I am convinced Iperceived a Psecadia pusiella. Members, my dear sir," he said tome, "of the great family of lepidoptera. In other wordsbutterflies."

"Beef, 'am or tongue," said the waiter resignedly. "Themutton's hoff."

"Ham, waiter, with a fragment of chutney. You are, sir," heturned again to me, "on a walking tour perhaps?"

"That is my idea," I said. "But I propose to make this hotelmy headquarters."

"You may possibly care to come out with me once or twice. Myname is Stanton—Professor Stanton."

"Mine is Seymour," I told him.

"Well, Mr Seymour—" He broke off suddenly. "Waiter, Iasked for ham and chutney, not the mummified sole of a shoecovered with glue."

"The tongue is worse," said the waiter drearily. "And thatthere chutney has been here two years to my certainknowledge."

"As far as I am concerned it will remain for another twoyears. Give me some bread and cheese. Dixon," he said to meurgently, as the waiter left the room, "there's a man in thelounge outside I want you to have a look at. I only got a glimpseof him that night at the Mere, but I believe it's the bloke whowas with the woman. Anyway he's got his hand bandaged up. No MrSeymour, a lifetime is all too short for my entrancing hobby.Bless me! waiter, I think this cheese must have been here for twoyears also. Get me a pint of ale, will you? Yes, sir—alifetime is too short. Nevertheless I hope to capture theCyligramma fluctuosa before I die. Are you doing anything thisafternoon?"

"I thought of going over to Stonehenge," I remarked.

He nodded. "We'll go over to Stonehenge. I wonder if one canhire a car."

And at that moment a man passed through the lounge. He lookedin at the door, gave us both a casual glance and thendisappeared.

"It is certainly our friend of the Mere," I said. "I'd knowhim anywhere. Now what the devil is he doing here?"

"Why shouldn't he be here?" said Toby. "This is the centre ofactivity at the moment."

"It may be," I agreed. "But don't forget that Darrell and Co.know him just as well as we do, and they might come at any momentas far as the enemy knows."

"That's true," he said. "Still, their intelligence work isprobably good. We've got to watch him, Dixon. Waiter," he calledout, "is it possible to hire a motor car? Mr Seymour and I werethinking of visiting Stonehenge."

"There be a Ford down at the garage," answered the waiter."You might be able to get 'old of that if no one eke ain'talready. Be you staying 'ere or do you want the bill?"

"Staying," said Toby. "Room 23. Well, Mr Seymour, shall we goand see about this Ford? I have an idea that I might perhaps seea Cerostoma asperella if my luck is in. Ah! pardon,sir—pardon."

He had bumped into a man just outside the door—the manwe had both recognized.

"I trust I have not hurt your hand at all," he went onearnestly. "So clumsy of me."

The man muttered something and sheered off, whilst I followedSinclair into the street.

"The gentleman was suspiciously close to the door, Dixon," hesaid quietly.

"Still, I don't think he suspected us," I answered.

"Not as us, perhaps. But I think the whole bunch of themsuspect everybody. When you boil down to it, they're tackling apretty dangerous proposition. If the police did get hold of them,abduction and attempted murder form a nasty charge."

"That is the very point that has occurred once or twice tome," I said. "One can understand the lady risking it: she has thebest of motives—revenge. But I'm blowed if I see wherethese other fellows come in. There's no question of revenge withthem. So what the devil are they doing it for?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Money. I'm told that in Chicago you can hire a gunman for adollar. And I haven't the very smallest doubt that you can do thesame in England if you know where to look. We heard that bloke atthe Mere mention two hundred pounds. And there are scores ofswine who would murder their mothers for that. Good Lord!"

His voice changed suddenly to that of the Professor.

"And so, my dear Seymour, if we can get this car I will tryand show you some of those beauties of nature which I feel sureare as yet quite unsuspected by you."

A man brushed past, favouring us both with a penetratingstare.

"What's the matter?" I said, when he was out of earshot.

"Just for a moment I thought the dead had come to life," saidSinclair. "You saw that man who passed us?"

"That thin-lipped blighter who stared? Yes: I saw him. Is heone of them?"

"I haven't a notion," he remarked. "Look here, I'm just goingto drop a line to Hugh, and I'll tell you the rest when we get inthe car. Here's the garage."

The Ford turned out to be available, and I got in and waitedfor Sinclair, who was scribbling a note in the office.

"We'll post it in some pillarbox as we go out," he said as hejoined me. "Better than leaving it at the main post office.Stonehenge, please, driver."

"What did you say," I asked, when we'd started.

"I told him about the man at the pub," he answered. "And alsoabout that other bloke. Of course there may be nothing in it, butthe likeness is really so astounding to a man we once haddealings with and who was one of the leaders of this very gang,that for a moment I thought it was him."

"Is there any reason why it shouldn't be?"

"Every reason. He died most substantially three or four yearsago. Hugh killed him."

He grinned suddenly.

"Of course this is all Greek to you, so I'll tell you aboutit. When we first bumped into Carl Peterson—nowdefunct—and the lady you saw at the Mere, it was at theinstigation of Mrs Drummond—before she was Mrs Drummond.It's altogether too long a story to tell you the whole thing; butin a nutshell, they were engaged in a foul criminal plot.Assisting them was one of the biggest swine it has ever been mymisfortune to run into—a man called Henry Lakington. He wasa mixture of chemist, doctor, thief, murderer and utterblackguard. But clever—damned clever. He wasn't as big aman as Peterson because he hadn't got the vision—but he wasa far more ineffable swab. Peterson, at any rate, at times hadthe saving sense of humour: this man had none. And in the courseof our little contest Drummond fought him and killed him. It wasone or the other, and that's a bit dangerous for the other, ifthe one is Hugh. Now that man who passed us is the living spit ofHenry Lakington; he might be—and for all I knowis—his twin brother. And the coincidence struck me as sopeculiar that I thought I'd mention it to Hugh. Of course,there's probably nothing in it."

"You are convinced," I said, "that this man Lakington waskilled."

"Absolutely certain of it," he answered. "On that pointthere's not a shadow of doubt. But if there's anything in thetheory that certain types of mentality have certain types offaces that man would steal the bird seed from a pet canary'sbeak. Hullo! here we are."

It was years since I had been to Stonehenge, and emphaticallythe impressiveness of the ruin had not been increased by themilitary buildings that had sprung up around it. Equallyemphatically the difficulty of playing any monkey tricks thereeither by day or night had considerably increased.

At the time we arrived several empty char-a-bancs werestanding on the road, and crowds of trippers were wandering roundthe huge stones escorted by guides. And having paid our modestentrance fee we joined a group.

"There, ladies and gentlemen, you have the slaughter stone onwhich the victim was sacrificed as the first rays of the sun,rising over the Friar's Heel, touched his body. Inside youperceive the altar stone...."

The guide droned on, but I paid scant attention. My thoughtswere concerned with the present, and not with the past. WasDrummond right in his surmise, was this place—the scene ofso much death in the dawn of history—to be the setting formurder as merciless as anything of old? What he had said wascorrect in one respect certainly; if Darrell, or any of them,were done to death it would be, to the world at large, a crimewithout motive. And the instant those three were disposed of, theend would come for Mrs Drummond.

It had been sound generalship on his part, leaving them inLondon. But the crux of the whole matter was whether, if therereally was a clue to be obtained, we should get it. True, that wesaved them the risk of being murdered, but did we not alsoprevent any possibility of getting information? Granted that ourdisguises held, what reason was there for us being told anything?To get a short cut to our goal, as Drummond hoped, presupposedour obtaining the necessary clue. And as far as I could see atthe moment, the only connecting link we possessed was the manwith the wounded hand.

To the other who, Toby Sinclair said, was like this dead manLakington, I attached no importance whatever. Chance likenessesare frequent, and the mere fact that he bore a strikingresemblance to a dead criminal was no proof that he was acriminal himself. No, the man with the damaged finger was ouronly link, and I began to wonder if we hadn't been foolish inlosing sight of him.

I glanced round: Toby Sinclair had wandered off and joinedanother group. And it suddenly occurred to me that it could do noharm to make a closer inspection of the Friar's Heel. It was aperfectly ordinary and normal thing to do, and would not causeany suspicion even if our opponents had spies in the crowd. Andthere was always the bare possibility of finding a clue.

I wandered over to it, to find a big man in rough seafaringclothes staring at it curiously.

"Rum old pile this, guv'nor, ain't it? I've seen the same sortof thing at Stornoway up in Lewis. Though I reckons the stonesthere ain't as big. This Friar's Heel as they call it is a big'un all right."

"You've been to the Hebrides," I said casually.

"Been there! Lor' bless you, there's not many parts of thislittle old globe that I ain't been to. And with it all I guessthere are as curious things and as beautiful things in England asanywhere else. Only people don't know it, or else they're toolazy to go and look."

I looked at him curiously out of the corner of my eye. Couldthis be another clue? If it was it meant we had been spotted. Andthen I took a pull at myself: I was beginning to suspecteverybody and everything.

"Stopping in these parts?" he went on.

"For a few days," I said.

"Funny sort of country," he remarked. "Good for the soldiers,I suppose, but it's a bit too bare for me. I like it with a fewmore woods and trees. Still—it's fine, especially at night.I reckon that these pebbles would look grand with the moonlightshining on them."

Once again I stared at him thoughtfully.

"Yes, one could imagine all sorts of terrible things happeninghere at night," I said quietly. "Ghosts of old Britons who hadbeen sacrificed: and violent deaths, and—murder."

He laughed. "You ain't half got an imagination, guv'nor, haveyou? But I take it you're one of the townbred lot—meaningno offence. Put you down in the country at night and you begin tosee things that ain't there—and hear things that ain'treal. Murder! Who's going to murder anyone here?" He laughedagain. "I don't suppose anyone ever comes to a place like this atnight," he went on. "And yet it's a rum thing. I was bicyclingalong that road late last night—been seeing some friends ofmine—and it seemed to me as if there was something movingabout the place. Round this very stone. Of course it was dark andI may have been mistaken, but there ain't generally much wrongwith my sight."

Last night, I reflected. Had the clue been guessed at once,Darrell and the other two could have been at the Friar's Heel bythen. Had there been someone here in readiness? To give them afurther clue, or to deal with them—otherwise?

"You didn't investigate?" I asked casually. "See if you wereright?"

"Not me, guv'nor. None o' my business. And one of Ben Harker'srules in life has always been to mind his own business."

He produced a well-used old briar from his pocket, andproceeded to fill it from a weatherbeaten leather pouch.

"Have a fill?" he said. "Ship's tobacco; the best in theworld."

"A bit strong for me, I'm afraid, Mr Harker," I thanked him."We miserable city clerks are hardly used to that sort ofsmoke."

"You prefer them damned fa*gs, I suppose," he grunted. "Ah!well, everyone to his own taste. Personally..."

He paused, and I glanced at him. His fingers had ceasedfilling his pipe, and he was standing absolutely motionlessstaring over my shoulder. Only for the briefest fraction of timedid it last, and then he continued his interrupted sentence.

"Personally, I can't ever get any taste out of acigarette."

As I say the pause was only for a fraction of a second—apause which I might quite easily have missed had I not happenedto have been watching his hands. But I hadn't missed it, and Iknew that he had seen somebody or something behind me that hadcaused it.

"A match at any rate, I can offer you," I said, and as I spokeI turned round casually. Coming slowly towards us was the thin-lipped man who resembled Lakington.

"Thanks," he answered, lighting his pipe in the unmistakablemethod of a man used to the wind. Then he handed me back the box."Well, good day to you," he said. "Maybe if you're staying inthese parts we shall meet again."

He strolled off with the slight roll of the seaman, and I lita cigarette. Certainly nothing he had done or said connected himin the slightest degree with the game, and yet I wasn't quitesure. Why that sudden pause in the middle of a sentence? And thenit struck me that there was nothing to connect the man who hadcaused it with the game either except a resemblance to a deadcriminal.

I sat down on the ground, and proceeded to study the hugestone, acutely conscious that the thin-lipped man was standingjust behind me.

"You are interested in this sort of thing?" he remarkedpolitely.

"As much as a bank clerk who knows nothing about it can be," Ianswered.

"It has always been a hobby of mine," he said. "The past is soinfinitely more interesting than the present. One admits ofimagination; the other is bare and brutal fact. These motor cars;this crowd of terrible people peering in their asinine way at thescene of age-old mysteries. Doing the place at high pressure,instead of steeping themselves in the romance of it."

He talked on, and there was no denying that he could talk. Hisvoice was pleasant and well modulated, and after a while I beganto listen entranced. Evidently a widely travelled and well-readman, with the rare gift of imparting information without becominga bore. And after a while I began to keep up my end of theconversation.

It was when he happened to mention the Zimbabwe Ruins inMashonaland, ruins that I had broken my journey at Fort Victoriain order to see; rams, as many believe, of a vanishedcivilization, which had fascinated me at the time, that I becamereally interested.

He, too, knew them, and we started an argument. I maintainedthat they were an ancient legacy from some civilized peopledating back, perhaps, to before the days of Solomon: he inclinedto the theory that they were only the work of local natives and,at most, mediaeval.

"Evidently," he said at length, "you have studied the mattermore closely than I have. Did you spend long there?"

"I was actually in South Africa for about six months," I toldhim. "And I used to collect opinions from those qualified toexpress them."

"A fascinating country. Though perhaps for any big scheme ofemigration which would cover all classes of our countrymenAustralia is more suitable."

"I've never been there," I said. "As a matter of fact I'mthinking of going next year. And to New Zealand."

"By the way," he said affably, after we had chatted foranother ten minutes or so, "if you are staying in thisneighbourhood you might care to have a look at my collection ofcurios. Though I say it myself I think I may say there are fewfiner in the country. And a man of taste like yourself wouldappreciate them."

"It is very good of you," I remarked, "and I should greatlylike to see them."

He had risen, and I stood up also.

"Where is your house?"

He glanced at his watch thoughtfully.

"I have my car here," he said, "and if you can spare an hour Icould run you over and show them to you. Then my car can take youback to your hotel."

"There is only one small difficulty," I said, "I came overfrom Amesbury with a gentleman I happened to meet at lunch. I seehim over there— Professor Stanton. An enthusiast onbutterflies."

"Professor Stanton," he cried. "Not the ProfessorStanton."

"I really don't know," I murmured. "I met him quite by chanceat lunch today."

"But," he exclaimed excitedly, "if it's Professor John Stantonhis reputation is worldwide."

I suppressed a slight smile; whatever Toby Sinclair'sreputation might be in certain purlieus of London, it couldhardly be described as worldwide.

"He's coming to join us," I remarked, "and you can askhim."

"But it is him," he cried, as Toby approached. "Whatstupendous luck. My dear Professor," he advanced withoutstretched hand, "you remember me. What a fool I was not torecognize you in Amesbury when I passed you."

Sinclair stared at him blankly.

"I fear you have the advantage of me, sir," he remarked.

The other waved a deprecating hand. "Ah! but, of course, youwould not recall me. I am merely one of the thousands who havesat at your feet. It was presumption on my part to imagine thatmy face would be familiar to you. But how entranced I was at thatlecture you gave on the habits of Pieris Rapae."

"You must be making some mistake, sir," said Toby coldly. "Iam not the gentleman you think."

"Modesty, Professor, modesty. Tell me have you discovered aspecimen of it yet? You told us, if you remember, that it was tobe your life work."

"Though you are making a mistake, sir, as to myidentity—yet I can well imagine that it would have been thelife work of the man I resemble. The rarest of all the species,perhaps. But I have seen today a marvellous specimen of theOpsiphanes syme."

"Stupendous," said the other admiringly. "What eyesight: whatwonderful eyesight. Well, I mustn't detain a public character.Good day sir, good day. And if you care to join your friend in alittle visit he has promised to make to my humble abode, I shallbe delighted to show you my amateur collection."

He bowed courteously and walked off, leaving Sinclair and mestaring at one another.

"I say, old boy," said Sinclair, "I hope this is all right. Iwonder who the hell Professor Stanton really is. Hugh's made abit of a bloomer there. He oughtn't to have given me the name ofa pukka character. Anyway, I think I pulled the jargon on him allright. I must consult my list of names again."

And it was as he was pulling it out of his pocket that astrange noise close by drew our attention. It appeared to comefrom a little man of astonishing aspect, whose fake teeth wereclicking together in his excitement. He also seemed to be tryingto speak. We waited. By this time I was prepared foranything.

"Are you acting for the films," he spluttered at length. "Orare you being more stupid than you look for some purpose?"

"Explain yourself, little man," said Toby with interest.

"Lying, sir—lying offensively on a subject which issacred to some of us." His teeth nearly fell out, but he pushedthem back with the care of long practice. "Using words, sir,which betray you as an impostor. How, sir, did you see a specimenof Opsiphanes syme?"

"With the jolly old peepers, laddie," said Tobysoothingly.

"Bah!" cried the little man. "Are you so profoundly ignorantof the subject you desecrate that you do not know that only inthe swamps of Brazil is that beautiful butterfly found?"

"No wonder he said my eyesight was good," said Tobythoughtfully.

"And further, sir—do you see that?" He pointed a shakingfinger at two Cabbage Whites chasing one another nearby. "Therarest of all the species, you called them. Pieris Rapae, sir.Bah! you make me sick. You should be prosecuted, sir; you shouldbe prosecuted."

"Look here, you'll swallow your teeth in a minute," said Toby,but the astounding little creature had already departed, wavinghis fists in the air.

"Takes all sorts to make a world, gents," came a laughingvoice from behind us. "But you do certainly seem to have said thewrong thing." We swung round: the man who looked like a sailorwas standing there. "Don't you know anything aboutbutterflies—or is he talking through his hat?" He gave Tobya penetrating stare. "Dangerous thing, sir, pretending to knowmore than you do. Or be what you ain't."

He strolled away, and once again we looked at one another."He's one of 'em," I said. "For a certainty. That's torn it."

"Hell," he remarked. "And again, hell. What about Lakingtonthe second? Is he one, too?"

XII. — IN WHICH I WRITE MYMIND TO DRUMMOND

Toby Sinclair was thoroughly despondent. "Ilooked up a bunch of Latin names in an encyclopaedia," he saidmorosely. "How the dickens was I to know that the damned thingonly lived in Brazil?" We were sitting in his room at the hotel."And the devil of it is, Dixon," he went on, "that if Lakingtonis not one of them we've still given the show away to that sailorbloke. You could see his suspicions sticking out a yard."

"Hold hard a moment," I said. "You say we've given itaway."

"Well then—I have, if you like that better," he saidsulkily.

"Don't get huffy, old man," I laughed. "I'm not trying topretend that I should have done any better than you if I'd beenthe Professor. But as luck would have it I was only a clerk."

"What are you driving at?" He looked at me curiously.

"Simply this. Up to date I have not given myselfaway—either to the sailor or to the man you call Lakington.I think I may say that I have been the bank clerk on holiday tothe life."

"Yes—but they know you know me," he objected.

"They know—and if they choose to take the trouble to askit will be corroborated—that you and I met casually in thecoffee room at lunch today. If you are an impostor, whichunfortunately they must know by now, there is still no reasonwhatever why I should have known it earlier."

"But you know it now as well as they do."

"Now—yes," I agreed. "But the fact that I went toStonehenge with you throws no suspicion on me. I didn't know itthen."

"I'm hanged if I get you," he said.

"You've got to clear out," I remarked. "Vamoose. Hop it.Disappear from this place for good."

"I'm blowed if I do," he said.

"My dear fellow—you must. If we're to do any good andhelp Drummond in any way, it's impossible that you should stayon. They know you're an impostor; they know I know you're animpostor. Well, how can we both stop on here? Am I to cut youdead? Or am I to continue talking to you realizing that you arean impostor? Don't you see that it's sufficient to bringsuspicion on me at once? Besides—I'm going to speak quitefrankly. Your value to the side at the moment is nil. In fact,old man, you're a positive source of weakness."

"I suppose you're right," he agreed reluctantly."Well—what do you suggest?"

"That you tell them downstairs that you've changed your mindand will not require your room. Then you hop it, and I'm sorry tosay, as far as I can see, you fade out of the picture. I shallstay on, and without being blatant about it, I shall drop anoccasional remark about your extraordinary idea of a holiday. Thestrange sort of kink that makes a man pretend to be what heisn't—that line of gup. Form of conceit—you know. Ican easily cough it up. And by doing that I shall remove anysmall half-formed suspicion they may have about me. I am just anordinary bank clerk taken in by you, as anyone else might havebeen."

He grunted and rose to his feet. "You're right. I'll go. Dropa note to Hugh explaining things—and tell him I'm eatingmud." And then he suddenly paused. "But, good Lord!Dixon—it's no good. The damage is done. If they've got aline on me they'll know Hugh and you and I aren't dead."

"They haven't got a line on you as yourself," I said. "Youmight be somebody else rigged out like that—Algy Longworthfor instance. Clear out and clear out quick. For unless you do,if I'm not greatly mistaken you'll be for it. They will thinkyou're just another member of Drummond's bunch, and as suchrequire to be exterminated. I'm going down now into the bar; if Ihappen to see you before you go I shall be pretty terse in myremarks."

"What sickening luck," he muttered. "Damn that blinkingbutterfly."

"It's bad luck," I said, "but I'm sure it's the only thing todo. Look out into the passage and see if there's anyone about.Then I'll make a bolt for it."

He opened his door, and gave me the all clear. And a fewmoments later I strolled into the bar. A little to my surprisethe seafaring man was there, seated in a corner. He was talkingearnestly to someone, and as I saw who his companion was, mypulse beat a little quicker. It was our friend of the Mere, theman with the damaged hand. Proof—absolute and definite.

I ordered a pint of ale and sat down near them. And theinstant he saw me the sailor leaned across and beckoned me tojoin them. "Draw up, mate," he cried. "You know it's none o' mybusiness, but what was your friend's great idea this afternoon.I've just been telling this gentleman about it. Your butterflypal, I mean, who knew nothing about butterflies."

"I assure you," I said a little stiffly, "he's no friend ofmine. He's the most casual acquaintance. He happened to belunching late at the same time as I was, and I gathered that hewas a Professor Stanton, and an authority on butterflies. And hesuggested we should go to Stonehenge together."

"Can't understand it," said the sailor man. "Now, if one ofyou started to talk to me about seafaring matters, I guess I'dspot in two shakes how much you know about the sea. And what'sthe good, anyway, of pretending you know what you don't know? Youlook such a blazing fool when you're found out."

"I think the explanation is very simple," I remarked. "It'smerely a peculiar form of conceit. That man probably knows asmattering about butterflies, and for some reason or other likesto pose as an expert. He got it in the neck all right from thatlittle man with the false teeth."

The sailor slapped his thigh with a blow like a pistol shotand roared with laughter. "Got it in the neck! Not half hedidn't. Well, it will teach him a lesson. Andbutterflies—of all things. Look out—here he is."

Tony Sinclair came fussing in, and as soon as he saw me hecrossed to our table.

"Ah! Mr Seymour," he said, "our little trip tomorrow must becancelled, I fear. I have been unexpectedly called back toLondon, to my annoyance."

"I am sorry to hear that—er—Professor," I said alittle stiffly.

"Going to catch Opsi—whatever it was—in TrafalgarSquare," chuckled the sailor.

"I quite fail to understand you, sir," said Toby, drawinghimself up. "Well—goodbye." He turned to me and held outhis hand. "I trust you will enjoy the remainder of yourholiday."

He went out into the lounge, and I watched him paying hisbill.

"Really an extraordinary case," I said thoughtfully. "He's thelast man in the world I should have thought would do anything sofoolish. Even now I can't help thinking there must be someexplanation. Though I suppose it's really a very unimportantmatter."

"You never can tell," said the sailor darkly. "It may be thatyou're well clear of him, mate. Blokes don't masquerade like thatunless they've got to. And they haven't got to unless there'ssomething wrong somewhere."

"I quite agree," said the man with the damaged finger,speaking for the first time. "And as I happen to be a member ofthe police, I think I'll just keep an eye on the gentleman."

He finished his drink and left the room, and the sailorwhistled under his breath.

"I wonder what the bloke has done," he said. "Or whether it'swhat you said—just a form of conceit. Anyway—haveanother."

For a moment or two I sat there undecided. Only too well did Iknow that the man with the damaged hand was not a member of thepolice, only too well did I know what he was a member of.

"Thanks," I said perfunctorily. "The same again, please."Should I, too, follow and tell Toby? But if I did, the sailorwould in all probability begin to suspect me. He was a member ofthe gang, too, and it was vital that I should be thought genuine.At the same time, how could I possibly let Sinclair run into sometrap? He'd been a fool to come over and speak to me, seeing who Iwas with. Still, I couldn't let him down. He must be warned.

"I think, after all, I won't have another at the moment," Isaid. "I shall go out for a bit of a stroll. I'll go on up andget my hat."

"Right ho! mate. You might see the Professor getting morebutterflies."

I left the bar and went upstairs to my room. Was I doing theright thing or was I not? After all, nothing much could happen inAmesbury in the middle of the afternoon, and Toby was quitecapable of tackling the man with the damaged finger single-handed. If he knew about him—that was the point.

I went down slowly into the lounge, trying to decide. Thesailor was still sitting in his corner of the bar: he evidentlyregarded the rest of the half-section as preferable to awalk.

"A note for you, sir." The girl called to me out of theoffice.

"For me?" I said, staring at her.

She was holding it out, and I glanced at it. It was addressedto F. Seymour, and the unfamiliar name almost caught menapping.

"That's not—" I began, and then I remembered and tookit. "Thank you," I said. "Who left it?"

"I really don't know, sir," she said. "I've been out of theoffice for a few minutes and I found it lying here when I gotback."

Who on earth could it be from? No one knew me: and then, ofcourse, I got it. Toby had left it on his way out. I slit openthe envelope, and for a moment I stared at the contentsuncomprehendingly.

'Do not follow Toby—H. D.'

H.D. Drummond! but where was he? How on earth did he know Ihad intended to follow Toby? And even as I racked my brains foran answer, a thickset man in plus-fours crossed the lounge andentered the bar. He had a short, clipped beard, flecked withgrey, and his hair was thinning a little over the temples.

With an immense feeling of relief I followed him. ThankHeaven! He had arrived on the scene. Naturally I was not going topretend to know him, but I couldn't resist throwing him a casualglance as I passed. By the mere fact that I was there he wouldknow that I had carried out his orders so that it was unnecessaryfor me to do more. And I had the satisfaction of getting a quicklook of approval.

"Changed your mind, mate, after all," called out the sailor."However, better late than never, and good beer tastes none theworse for the waiting."

"It looked so infernally hot in the street," I said. "And eventhe chance of seeing our butterfly expert arrested for bigamywasn't a sufficient inducement to go out."

I purposely spoke in a loud voice so that Drummond shouldhear.

"Bigamy; that's good," chuckled the sailor. "With a face likehis I should think he'd be lucky to get one. Say "—helowered his voice confidentially—"what do you make of thebloke in the corner. The one with the grouse moor on hisface?"

"Nothing much," I said. "Why? You don't think he's anothercriminal, do you? Seems a perfectly ordinary sort of bird."

And then it suddenly occurred to me that it would be a goodthing to let Drummond know that this man I was talking to was oneof the enemy.

"By the way," I said casually, "seeing that you're a beerdrinker, I suppose you're a Froth Blower."

The sailor shook his head. "I've heard of it," he remarked."But I ain't a member. What's the idea?"

"Well, they've got a sort of anthem," I said, conscious thatDrummond was looking in our direction, "by which they recognizeone another. It goes something like this."

"Great Scott!" said the sailor after I'd finished. "Does it?You've got a funny sort of voice, haven't you, mate? Or is thatreally the tune?"

"It should under certain circ*mstances be sung twice," Iremarked. "This is one of them."

"I'll take your word for it," he said urgently. "I don't wantto be rude, guv'nor, but your voice is one of them things when alittle goes a long way. Have another gargle?"

I declined his offer, and a little later I made my way intothe lounge. Drummond had left the hotel, and it was fairlyobvious that the only interest that the seafaring gentleman couldhave in me was one of curiosity. Though we had done our best toallay suspicion, Toby Sinclair's mistake had greatly increased mydifficulties. To be associated, however innocently, with a manwho has been found out as a fraud is bound to make oneconspicuous. And that is exactly what I had no desire to be.

The saving point in the situation up to date hadbeen—though I said it myself—my own acting. And as Isat in the lounge, idly scanning a local paper, I confess I felta little amused. Drummond's absolute assurance that we should notrecognize him struck me as being distinctly funny. Seldom had Iseen a more obvious disguise than the one he had adopted. Ofcourse, I realized that he had definitely given himself away tome by writing the note, but even without that I should have knownhim anywhere. The beard was so very obviously false. In fact, Imade up my mind that when I dropped him a line to tell himexactly what had happened over Toby Sinclair I would warn himabout that beard. It looked the sort that might fall off in thesoup. And one thing was certain. If any of the enemy who hadknown him in days gone by—the woman herself, forinstance—should chance to see him, he would be spotted fora certainty.

It surprised me, I confess. In one way and another I had heardso much of his resource and daring that it seemed all the moreamazing that he should be so crude. To do him justice, theresults he had obtained with Sinclair and myself were extremelygood. Why, then, did he fail so dismally over himself? Could itbe that he was so self-confident that he had become careless? Orwas it merely that he was relying absolutely on the fact that theother side thought we were dead?

A very strong asset, doubtless—immenselystrong—for just so long as they continued to think so. Andthat was where the great danger of Toby Sinclair's mistake lay.Supposing they got him and stripped off his disguise. He had beena member of Drummond's gang all through: he would be recognizedat once by the woman. And the instant he was recognized it wouldbe obvious to the meanest capacity that we had not been drowned.If he had escaped we must all have escaped. And once that factwas known, suspicion would be bound to fall on me in spite ofanything I might do. As for Drummond with his beard, a childwould spot him at the other end of the street. Had not the sailorhimself been suspicious the instant he saw him? And did it notprove, if further proof was necessary, that up to date I wasentirely unsuspected? Otherwise would he have spoken as he did tome?

It certainly gave me a feeling of confidence, but just ascertainly it increased my responsibility. As far as I could makeout, I was the only person who with any degree of safety couldcarry on. Sinclair was out of it; and I found myself hoping toHeaven that Drummond would stop out too. Of course, I knew hewouldn't, but with his extremely conspicuous appearance he woulddo far mere harm than good. In fact, as I continued to think overit I began to feel thoroughly irritable. This wasn't a game ofHunt the Slipper, or Kiss in the Ring, It was a game in which, aswe knew to our cost, any false step might prove fatal. And itwasn't playing fair to any of us to come into the thick of itwith an appearance that called to high heaven—this is adisguise. Toby Sinclair's mistake had been foolish, perhaps, butthat I had managed to rectify by acting promptly. But nothing Icould do would rectify Drummond's. He, once he was seen, wasbeyond hope.

I crossed to a writing-table: something must be done. He mightbe our leader and all that, but I failed to see the slightestreason why I should run a considerably increased risk of gettingit in the neck.

"Surely," I began, "it is nothing short of insane to come herewith such a blatantly false beard on. The thing shrieks at one.The man who looks like a sailor, and who, as I told you by signalin the bar, is one of them, suspected you at once. I rode himoff, of course—but if the woman should see you, you're donefor. We all are. Would it not be wiser, in view especially ofSinclair's bad mistake this afternoon, for you to leave thisthing in my hands for the moment. I am the only one who isunknown to the other side. I obeyed your instructions, and didnot go after him when he left the hotel, but are you aware thathe was followed by the man whose finger you shot off. What isgoing to happen if they catch him? Don't you see that the wholeshow is up? They will realize at once that none of us weredrowned. And what then? Once that occurs, you will forgive myblunt speaking, but you won't last a minute. You will be spottedimmediately. And because of my association with Sinclair theywill even suspect me.

"Would it not, therefore, be better if, as I said before, youlie low for a bit? I will keep my eyes open, and find out what Ican—notifying you at once of any developments. My principalhope lies in the sailor, and in the man with the damaged hand.The latter we know is one of them: the former I am equallycertain is one also. Not, of course, absolutely so: but his wholedemeanour at Stonehenge this afternoon was most suspicious. Infact, only the certainty of my perfect disguise prevents me fromthinking that he was giving me the next clue. And if he was, itis Stornoway, in the island of Lewis. But of this I am not sure.Why should he waste a clue on an inoffensive bank clerk? Let ushope, at any rate, that I am wrong. Our difficulties in crossingundiscovered to such a sparsely populated locality as theHebrides will be great.

"Then there is another man about whom I think Sinclair wroteto you. He resembles apparently a man you killed some years agocalled Lakington. We met him in the street here before startingfor Stonehenge; and we again met him at the Friar's Heel itself.I had a long talk with him first, and found him a most delightfuland cultivated individual. In fact, I cannot believe that he isone of the enemy. Then Sinclair joined us, and committed histerrible gaffe. He told him he had actually seen a butterflywhich, as we subsequently gathered, only grows in Brazil! Nowwhether this man, who for purposes of reference I will callLakington, actually spotted this mistake, or whether he didn't, Icannot say with any degree of certainty. But the point is reallyimmaterial. Because the man who looks like a sailor mostcertainly did. After Lakington had left us, an odd little man,who obviously knew what he was talking about, though he acted asif he wasn't all there, told Sinclair to his face that he was animpostor. And the sailor, who was close by, heard. Now do you seethe danger we are in? Sinclair is spotted: you, I'm afraid, arespotted also, so that only I am left. And if by any chance theybegin to suspect me—which is not likely, but at the sametime is a possibility we must reckon with—the coincidencewould be too marked to escape their notice. One newcomer indisguise might be anybody: three—one of whom is a bigman—tapes us unerringly. We shall have lost the pricelessasset of secrecy.

"Wherefore I beg of you lie low. Hide, if necessary, inwhatever room you may have taken, and wait for information fromme. I am repeating myself, I know, but frankly, my dear fellow,it never even dawned on me that you would appear quite as youare. I venture to think it would almost have been better if youhad come as yourself. However, the mischief is done now—andall that we can try to do is to rectify it.

"You may rely implicitly on me; but please do not make my taskany harder than it is already."

I read through what I had written. Strong, perhaps—butnot one whit too strong. He must be made to understand theenormity of his offence. And if he didn't: if he persisted ingoing about the place as he was, I should have to consider veryseriously whether or not I would throw the thing up. Where wouldthey have been without me up to date? I had more than half solvedthe first clue: I had completely solved the second: and, throughold Jenkinson, I had given them the answer to the third. Whichentitled me to express my opinion pretty tersely. And if Drummonddidn't like it, he could damned well lump it.

I addressed an envelope to John Bright, and called for astamp. And it was while I was waiting for it to be brought that atrick of memory brought to my mind an incident in some detectivestory I had read years ago. A man had given himself away byleaving behind him a piece of blotting-paper which he had justused. And the blotting-paper, when held up to a looking-glass,revealed exactly what he had written.

Just one of those little things, I reflected, where braincounts. One of those small details where the blundering type offellow is apt to get caught. So I took the blotting-paper, toreit into small pieces, and dropped them in the paper-basket. "Bitextravagant, aren't you, mate?" With a feeling of annoyance, Iturned round in my chair. Standing by the door of the bar was thesailor, and with him was the man with the damaged hand. And theywere both staring at me.

For a moment I was tempted to ask him angrily what the devilit had to do with him, but I instantly suppressed the impulse.After all, it was a very harmless remark—one, moreover,which I was quick enough to see gave me an excellent opportunityof consolidating my position.

"A habit we clerks get into in a bank," I said. "Cleanblotting-paper always after finishing a job."

"Is that so?" he remarked. "What a good idea." I rose andcrossed to the front door—I had no wish to post the letterin the hotel. And it was as I was actually stepping on to thepavement that a sudden awful thought struck me.Supposing—what was to prevent them, as soon as I was gone,from getting the torn-up pieces out of the basket and fittingthem together.

At all costs I must prevent that, and the question was how.The sailor was still by the door, though the other man haddisappeared. There was only one thing to be done: get back to thetable, write another letter, and in some way or other retrievethose incriminating pieces.

I wrote another letter, and still he stood there. But at lasthe went, and I made a dive for the basket. The bits were alltogether, but mixed up to a certain extent with old cigaretteends and two used pipe-cleaners. However, there was no time toworry over trifles: it was imperative that I should get thatblotting-paper. I grabbed the lot, including the pipe-cleaners,and some soft, wet object, and crammed everything into my pocket.Then, breathing freely, I once more stood up, only to see thatconfounded sailor pop out again like a jack-in-the-box from thebar.

"Lumme, mate!" he cried, "what have you got on your coat? Itlooks like something out of a dustbin."

I glanced down, just as the soft, wet object fell with a flopon the carpet.

"Why," he said with interest, "that's the rotten plum I threwaway an hour ago. You don't half have funny habits at your bank,old man, do you?"

The situation was undeniably difficult, and the only thing todo was to carry it off lightly.

"I threw away an important paper by mistake," I laughed.

"Well, you must have had St Vitus's dance in your fingers whenyou picked it up again," he said. "You've got an old bootlace andtwo toothpicks on your coat, sticking in the plum juice."

He retired into the bar again leaving me fuming inwardly. Theman was absolutely ubiquitous: it seemed impossible to get rid ofhim. Moreover, it was one of those stupid little things that havethe power of irritating one profoundly. To be seen by anybodygrabbing rotten plums out of a wastepaper basket is annoying: inthis case it might have been worse but for the cool way I hadridden him off.

However, there was only one thing to be done—dismiss thematter as unimportant. I had retrieved the blotting-paper whichwas the main point: the next item on the programme was to post myletter to Drummond. And then the real business would begin.

I strolled along the street, thinking out the best means oftackling the problem. The whole thing boiled down to a questionof subtlety and brain: of meeting cunning with cunning. Once Ihad obtained the next clue, or located our opponents' main evenif only temporary headquarters—strength would doubtless berequired. And then Drummond could shed his ridiculous beard andemerge from seclusion. But until then—well, my letter wasconcise on that point.

My eyes suddenly narrowed: surely there was Drummondhimself—beard and all—going into the Post Office. Iquickened my steps. I felt that my letter was so vitallyimportant that it would be worth while running some small risk toobtain immediate delivery. Every additional moment that he was atlarge in that absurd and obvious get-up increased our danger.

He was leaning over the counter as I entered, and I went andstood next to him.

"Are there any letters here for Bright?" he asked the girl"John Bright."

She turned round to look, and I nudged his arm gently, showinghim at the same time the letter I held in my hand. Then I droppedit on the floor.

"One just come," said the girl handing over Toby Sinclair'snote.

Drummond took it, and then, as she attended to me, he stoopeddown and picked up mine. I bought some stamps, and stayedchatting with the girl for a few moments to give him time to getaway. Then with a feeling of relief that my warning had reachedhim safely I followed at a reasonable distance. That vital matterwas settled anyway.

Once more I returned to the problem. Two main lines of actionpresented themselves, so it seemed to me. The first lay inshadowing the sailor, or the man with the damaged finger, orpossibly both: the second entailed a further visit or visits tothe Friar's Heel, and both courses involved certain obviousdifficulties.

It was true that up till now I had successfully avoidedsuspicion, but if I proceeded to attach myself permanently toeither of the two men, how long should I continue avoiding it? IfI tried to stalk them at a distance I was at once confronted withthe fact that Salisbury Plain is not a very populous spot, andthat I was almost certain to be discovered. On the other hand, ifI went to the Friar's Heel, what chance should I have ofobtaining any clue? Why should anything be said to an inoffensivebank clerk?

The best course I decided would probably be a mixture of thetwo. I could cultivate the sailor's acquaintance, and if I keptmy ears open I might learn something of value either from him orthe man with the damaged hand. But I would confine my dealingswith them to the bar, or at any rate the hotel, unless someopportunity presented itself to accompany them anywhere outside.In addition I would pay a further visit to the Friar's Heel, andsee if I could pick up anything there.

And that was the conclusion I had reached as I turned into thelounge. Prudent, and at the same time calculated to give themaximum of result. The sailor was in his usual corner of the bar,and he waved a cheerful hand at me as I entered.

"Been picking up any more plums?" he inquired. "Anyway, whatabout that gargle you wouldn't have before?"

"My shout this time," I said genially as I sat down. "Justbeen having a stroll through the town. What is it?"

He was leaning towards me, and signing me to put my headclose. "I believe," he said in a hoarse whisper, "that that man'sbeard is false."

"What man?" I asked bewildered.

And then, to my rage and fury I saw that Drummond had justentered the bar. For a moment or two I could scarcely speak, soangry did I feel. After my urgent letter, after my imperativewarning, for the triple distilled fool to parade himself again inthe hotel of all places was too maddening.

"I don't think so," I managed to get out after a while. "Whyshould a man wear a false beard?"

"Why should a man pretend to know about butterflies when hedoesn't?" he remarked. "Why should a man pick rotten plums andtoothpicks out of a wastepaper basket?"

"I trust," I said stiffly, "that you don't think there isanything mysterious about me."

"Lumme! no, mate," he laughed. "There ain't nothing mysteriousabout you." He was staring covertly at Drummond all the time. "Itis false," he affirmed. "It waggles."

"Confound him and his beard," I cried. "Let's have thatdrink."

And even as I beckoned to the waiter, what little self-controlthat I still had after Drummond's colossal idiocy very nearlyleft me. Who should be crossing the lounge and heading straightfor the bar but Algy Longworth?

He came drifting in and I stared at him speechlessly. Hadeverybody gone mad I wondered. That he should come here at allmust be due to Drummond. And that Drummond should have sent himknowing that the man with the damaged hand was in the hotel couldonly be explained by the fact that our much vaunted leader'sbrain had failed.

True they took no notice of one another, and after a time,Longworth came over and sat down at the next table to ours. He,of course, did not know me, and I therefore judged it safe toaddress a casual remark to him. It might perhaps enable him toclear out.

"Motoring through?" I said casually.

He nodded.

"Jolly place, isn't it?" he remarked. "I always love dear oldSalisbury Plain, ever since I spent six months on it at thebeginning of the war. But I don't know this end very well: I wasup Ludgershall way. Is it far from here to Stonehenge?"

"Stonehenge," repeated the sailor. "About three miles, Isuppose. This gentleman and I were there this afternoon."

"I thought of going tonight," said Algy, and I felt I couldhave cheerfully murdered him.

"Did you?" remarked the sailor, staring at him thoughtfully."Well, it's an interesting place, ain't it, mate?"

He turned to me.

"What did they call that stone where we were talking? TheFriar's Heel, wasn't it?" And as he said it he deliberatelyraised his voice. I had a momentary glimpse of the man with thedamaged hand standing in the door staring at Algy. Then hedisappeared, and I saw him leave the hotel quickly. The damagewas done: the message had been given.

XIII. — IN WHICH I GO TOFRIAR'S HEEL BY NIGHT

I don't mind confessing that I very nearlychucked in my hand. The whole thing was too disheartening. It wasworse than disheartening—it was suicidal. I realized, ofcourse, that my letter had not reached Drummond in time for himto warn Longworth that the sailor was one of the other side, buteven so Algy should have known better than to discuss his planswith two complete strangers. And now the thing was what todo.

Drummond had left the bar shortly after, and up till dinnertime I had no chance of a private word with Longworth. I made himone or two covert signs when the sailor was not looking, but hemissed them all. In fact he seemed to me to be wilfully dense. Hemust know that I was about somewhere, even if he didn't actuallyrecognize me.

At dinner it was just the same. I came in to find him sittingat the long table between an elderly lady and a man who lookedlike a prosperous farmer. And not once did he even glance in mydirection though I tried to catch his eye on severaloccasions.

The sailor had beckoned to me as I came in to sit at histable, but I had pretended not to see. I wanted peace and quietto think out this new development. If Algy went to the Friar'sHeel that night he was for it. That much was obvious. Unless, ofcourse, Drummond proposed to be there, too, and bring the matterdown to brute force. But even if he did, surely he must realizethat it was very unlikely it would help us to find his wife'shiding place.

Or did Drummond intend to lie hidden in the hope of getting aclue, and to use Longworth as a decoy without whom the clue wouldnot be given? That, of course, was possible. But what the damnedfool seemed to fail utterly to realize even now was the folly ofdoing such a thing in his present disguise. Already the sailorsuspected him: once let him be discovered at the Friar's Heel,even if his great strength did enable him to get away, suspicionwould become certainty. Then they would either move Mrs Drummond,or finish her off right away, and we should be in a far worseposition than we were now.

If only he would leave the thing to me. It seemed such anobvious solution to the whole matter. Instead of which, here theywere blundering round, suspected by everybody and finding outnothing.

At length I finished my dinner, and went into the lounge. Ihad seen Longworth go out previously, but there was no sign ofhim as I sat down. And as I tried to drink some of the concoctionthat passes in the average English hotel for coffee, the sailorwent by towards the door.

"Goodnight, mate," he called out.

"Where are you off to?" I asked carelessly.

"Going to see some friends out Netheravon way," he answeredwith a wink. "At least—a friend."

He went out under the pleasing delusion that he had deceivedme, and I sat on. Where was Algy?

A quarter of an hour passed: a half, and at length I couldstand it no longer. I would chance it and go to his room. I gotup and strolled over casually to the office. There was the entryin the book right enough—A. Longworth, Room 15. I wentupstairs; the room was facing me. And after a quick glance roundto see that no one was about I opened the door and went in.

The room was empty, and I stood there wondering what to donext. It seemed obvious that he must have left the hotel, and ifso he was probably on his way to Stonehenge by now. And the onlything to do as far as I could see was to follow him. After all,who knew what he might be up against, and even if Drummond wasthere a third person would do no harm.

I decided that I would walk. The night was fine though dark,and an hour, I calculated, would just about see me there. Then Iwould lie concealed unless my help was wanted, and find out whatI could.

It was just about eleven when I reached the slight hill thatpasses the monument. I was walking on the grass beside the roadto deaden the sound of my footsteps, and when I got level withthe great stones I sat down for a while to reconnoitre. I couldsee them dimly outlined in the darkness some hundred yards away,and I craned my eyes to see if I could make out any sign ofmovement. There was nothing: all was silent and motionless, untilafter a while I began to imagine things.

I recalled that vigil of the other night by the strandedmotorcar, and realized that unless I did something soon my nerveswould begin to go. And one thing was obvious: if I did want tofind out anything I would have to go nearer.

I put a leg through the wire fence, and even as I did so Iheard a sound that froze me into immobility and brought me out ina cold sweat. It was a shrill scream of fear, and the voice wasthe voice of a man.

It came from the direction of Stonehenge, and I crouched therelistening with every sense alert. The scream was not repeated,though it seemed to me that I heard a hoarse worrying noise for atime. Then utter silence.

Suddenly I became aware of something else. I was stillstanding half straddled over the fence, when I felt by thefaintest movement of my legs that someone else was touching thewires. And not very far away either.

I peered into the darkness: was that the dark outline of aman—or was it only a little mound? It was moving, I couldswear it was moving. But it was moving away from the road andtowards Stonehenge.

Then came the next unexpected development. This time there wasno mistake about it: someone was scrambling through the fencewithout taking any precautions whatever. The wires literallytwanged, and once again I crouched down waiting. Well for me thatI did so: well for me that I was not still in the place where Ihad sat down first.

For a moment later a man, bent almost double, came swiftlypast right over the spot from which I had only just moved. Thefence was between us but even so, he was so close that I couldhave touched him, and how he missed seeing me I do not know. ButI saw him, and long after he had vanished into the darkness I satthere motionless, trying to puzzle out this new development. Evenwithout the momentary glimpse I had got of his face, anothersense would have proclaimed the truth. The man was a coal-blacknegro.

I looked round again: the mound was no longer there, and aftera little hesitation I too started to crawl cautiously towardsStonehenge. Whether I liked it or not, the reason of thatdreadful scream had got to be discovered.

Foot by foot I wormed my way forward, peering ahead at everystep to try and see the other man who I knew must be somewhere infront of me. Suddenly from about twenty yards away came the faintglow of a screened electric torch. I stopped instantly: withoutrealizing it I had almost reached one of the great stones. Andfor a space I stared at the terrible spectacle the lightrevealed.

Lying on his back, his legs sprawling drunkenly, was a man,and it only needed one glance to see that he was dead. There wereghastly marks round his throat, and his head lolled sideways. Thepoor brute had been throttled by a man of immense strength, andit looked to me as if his neck had been broken.

It was not Algy Longworth: the dead man was a completestranger. But who was the man who held the torch? His face was inshadow: I could not see the outline of his body. Was it thesailor? Or was it the man with the damaged hand? I cranedforward, and as I did so the torch was extinguished. I had ablurred impression of movement, and then silence. The man,whoever he was, had gone. I was alone with the dead body. Andeven as I realized it and began to wonder what I should do next,I heard the faint thrumming of a motor car from the road. Thencame the slight squeak of a brake and the sound of a door beingopened. I looked round. Whoever it was was running withoutlights.

Very cautiously I backed away from the murdered man. Anunlighted car stopping where this one had seemed too suspiciousfor my liking. And having gone what I thought was a safe distanceI lay down and waited: waited until the next thing happened, athing which almost made me throw caution to the winds.

"To the right," came the voice of a man, speaking low. "Youhave your torch?" came the answer, and the man gruntedassent.

And the second speaker was a woman. I could see them dimlyoutlined against the darkness not five yards away. But it wasn'tthat that filled me with a wild excitement: it was the smell of ascent like jasmine—and yet not quite jasmine. It was thewoman herself—Irma—our arch-enemy. They moved away,and I wormed after them. "Here he is," said the man's voice."I'll switch on the torch for a second."

Once more came the faint glow, and then a sharp exclamationfrom her. "This isn't one of them. I've never seen this manbefore in my life."

The torch was extinguished. "Darling—Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," she said fiercely. "I know the wholebrood by sight. That is no more Longworth than you are."

"Then what on earth was he doing here?" muttered the man.

"How should I know?" she answered. "That fool Pedro has killedthe wrong man."

"Unless this man is a new member of their gang," said hercompanion.

She almost spat at him.

"I'm not concerned with new members. I want the old lot."

"My beloved," came his voice, vibrant with love and passion,"can't you chuck it? This is all such a ghastly risk. Drummond isdead already: you've got his wife. Isn't that enough?"

"It is not," she said coldly.

"Well, what are we going to do about this body?" he askedwearily. "Every moment we're here increases our danger."

"Are those sheds over there empty?"

"But the risk, cherie. It is bound to be discovered."

"Not until we have finished," she said in a peculiar voice."Send Pedro back from the car to carry it there."

They were moving away, back towards the road. And to my mindthere returned those strange words of hers—"After, I willcome to you." And her voice as she said the word "Finished," hadbeen the same. What was in this strange woman's brain? What dark,hideous plan had she conceived? Because the conviction wasgrowing on me that she was not only a woman obsessed with anidea—she was mad.

And who was this man, her companion, who evidently loved her?Where did he come in? Did he hope for reward after her plans werefulfilled—did he hope for her? What wouldn't I have givenfor the due to the events of the night. Who was the dead man? Whowas the man who had first examined him and then disappeared intothe darkness?

And then the noise of the car starting recalled me to thepresent. Pedro must be the black man I had seen dodging past medown the road, and I had no wish to meet Pedro whatever.Crouching low, I dodged away from the place where the body lay. Ihad seen enough. I would go back to the hotel and think thingsover tomorrow.

I reached the railings, and cautiously crawled through them.Then I started on my three-mile walk. From behind me came theharsh cry of a night bird, and once I paused and listened. Itseemed to me that I heard a strange, worrying noise, followed bya sharp shout that was instantly suppressed. With an involuntaryshudder I walked on till the dim outline of the giant stones werehidden by the hill. Nothing would have induced me to return tothe place again. But I couldn't help wondering what furtherhorror had happened there. Had the negro suddenly encountered theother wanderer by night? And who was it who had shouted?

One ray of light, and one ray only shone in the general fog.They had intended to kill Algy Longworth that night: theytherefore intended to kill Darrell and Jerningham. The lastlingering doubt that this woman intended to play the game hadbeen dispelled. And it was therefore imperative that they shouldbe warned. They must at all costs be kept away from the place.Once they were caught, the end would come at once: nothing couldsave Drummond's wife. This woman Irma would imagine that we wereall accounted for, and no further reason would exist for delay.So Algy would have to be sent away as soon as possible, and toldto stop away until at any rate I had discovered the headquartersof our enemy.

It ought not to be difficult, I reflected. Surely someone inthe neighbourhood must have seen the negro. He would be aconspicuous figure in a locality like this. And once he wasidentified the house was identified. And once that was done,there was one thing on which I was absolutely determined. Thepolice must be informed. If Drummond wouldn't do it, then Iwould. It was essential: the house must be completely surroundedby a cordon of men. The time for fooling with matters was past:things were altogether too serious. We were up against a madwoman and a man who was infatuated with her. And they would haveto be put under restraint, or else exterminated.

Then another thought struck me. What if I informed the policeat once or first thing next morning of what I had seen? Told themthat in one of those old disused military sheds they would findthe dead body of a man, and that the murderer was a negro. Thatwould take them direct to the place and settle things. As aforeigner, I took it, he would have to be registered: his addresswould, therefore, be known. The only trouble was that my owndoings might require a little explanation. Why was I masqueradingabout in a disguise? Why had I entered my name in the hotel booksas Seymour when it was really Dixon? Well—I should have totell them everything, that was all, though I frankly did notrelish the idea of trying to make a stolid local police officerbelieve me. The whole thing sounded too much like a nightmareinduced by a surfeit of lobster.

I paused to light a cigarette, and as I did so I saw a redlight on the road ahead of me. It was the tail-light of a car,and it was stationary. It seemed to be about a hundred yardsaway, and for a moment or two I stared at it thoughtfully. True,there was nothing inherently suspicious about a stationary motorcar, but tonight I was in a mood to suspect anything.

I crept cautiously a little nearer. Something had evidentlygone wrong, I could see the outline of the chauffeur as he peeredinto the bonnet. Another man was standing beside him holding anelectric torch in his hands, and the chauffeur was tinkering witha spanner.

Suddenly the man holding the light turned it for a moment onto the chauffeur's face, and I stopped abruptly. For thechauffeur was the man who had sprung at me out of the ditch threenights before, and whose hands I could still feel on my throat.No doubt about it now: the car in front of me belonged to theenemy. And surely, unless it was a very amazing coincidence, itmust be the same car that had stopped by Stonehenge earlier.

I crawled into the hedge and tried to decide on a line ofaction. There in front of me lay the means of running the gang toearth if only I could seize it. But how? Once the defect was putright the car would be off, and manifestly I couldn't follow iton foot. I cursed myself for not having come on a bicycle: then Imight have had some chance. Now it was hopeless. And yet I knewthat if I could but track that car to its destination our problemwas solved.

I crept a little nearer, and suddenly an idea dawned on me.The luggage grid was down at the back. Suppose I managed to geton that! It would have to be done with the utmost care: the exactpsychological moment would have to be seized. Just as he let inhis gear would be the time. And if I was spotted, I would pretendthat I was trying to jump a ride. Disguised as I was, thechauffeur would not recognize me: the woman, anyway, did not knowme, and the only danger was the other man of whose identity I wasstill in ignorance. Still, it was worth the risk: theinformation, if I could get it, would be so invaluable.

The chauffeur was closing the bonnet. The man who had beenholding the light opened the door and got in. The moment hadcome. Stooping low, I ran the few yards to the back of the car,just as I heard the noise of the self-starter. Then the enginewas raced for a few seconds, and I gripped the grid with bothhands, and swung myself on to it. We were off.

A wild feeling of triumph swept over me: so far, I had notbeen spotted. But it didn't last long, and if the road had notbeen good, it would have lasted an even shorter time. For sheerdiscomfort commend me to a ride on the luggage grid of a fastcar. Several times I was nearly shot off as we went over bumps.In addition, the car was over lubricated, and emitted a densecloud of blue smoke from just underneath me. But for all that, Ifelt it was worth it: I'd done the trick. I'd succeeded where, atany rate up to date, the others had failed. All that wasnecessary now was to hang on until we reached our destination,drop off as the car slowed down, and escape into the darkness.And in spite of my extreme agony, I almost laughed as I picturedDrummond's face the next morning when he heard the news.

I felt the brakes being applied and heaved a sigh of relief.And then the car swung right-handed, and turned through a gate. Icould tell by the scrunch of gravel under the tyres that we werein a drive, and suddenly a light inside the car was switched on.That was a complication I had not thought of, for now the groundbehind the car was illuminated through the back window. And ifeither of the occupants happened to look out they were bound tosee me when I dropped off. I hesitated, squeezing myself as closeas possible to the car. Should I chance it? And while I wastrying to make up my mind, the car stopped at the front door.

Now I thought detection was certain, but still my luck held.The man and the woman passed into the house: the door closedbehind them. And the next instant the car moved on. Once againdid I get ready to jump off, when the noise of the gravel ceasedand I realized we were in the garage. Moreover, it was a biggarage, and the chauffeur had driven the car in as far as itwould go so that I had at least ten yards to cover beforereaching the door. I heard him get down and start fiddling withsome tools on a bench. Should I make a dart for it now? Then thelights were switched off, and he yawned prodigiously. He hadevidently finished for the night, and I only just had time tododge to one side of the car as he came by on the other.

He heaved on the sliding doors, and they met with a clang. Akey turned: his footsteps died away. And I couldn't helpit—I laughed. The situation really had its humorous side.Without doubt I had successfully tracked the tiger to itslair—so successfully that I was inside while the tiger wasout. And as my position came home to me I stopped laughing. Thehumour of the situation lay with the tiger.

I started to make a tour of inspection. The main doors werelocked: there was nothing to be hoped for in that quarter. And abrief survey of the windows showed that none of them were made toopen. Cautiously I felt my way along to the further end. A woodenbench littered with spanners and things filled three-quarters ofit: in the other quarter, and my hopes rose as I saw it, was asecond door. I tried the handle. It was locked. That finished it.I was caught like a rat in a trap. With the arrival of thechauffeur next morning I must be discovered. Nothing couldprevent it.

What a drivelling idiot I had been! I had accomplishedabsolutely nothing. I didn't even know where I was, which wouldhave been some recompense. Then, even if they kept me a prisoner,I might have found an opportunity of communicating with Drummond.As it was, all that I had succeeded in doing was to get locked upin a unknown place.

What about breaking one of the windows? It gave me apossibility of escape whereas if I waited there was none. But Isoon realized the difficulty of the idea. The panes weresmall—far too small for me to squeeze through. It wouldmean smashing wood and everything, and there, not ten yards away,was the house. Still, it was a possibility. I was bound to beheard but in the general confusion I might escape. And even as Iwas turning the matter over in my mind I stiffened into suddenrigidity. A light was shining below the bottom of the seconddoor, and I could hear footsteps approaching.

The key turned, and I dodged behind the car. A man came in,and I could hear him cursing under his breath. He had an electrictorch in his hand, and he appeared to be searching for some toolon the bench. His back was towards me, and for a moment I had thewild idea of hurling myself on him and taking him unawares. Ithink if I had had any weapon in my hand I would have done so andchanced it.

He found what he wanted, and left the garage. My opportunity,if it ever really had been an opportunity, had gone. But had it?For he had left the door wide open.

Light streamed in, and I crept a little nearer. He was walkingalong a short passage, and a further door at the other end wasopen. It led into a room, and it was from the room that the lightcame. The passage was evidently to enable one to reach the garagefrom the house under cover, but it was not of such prosaicdetails that I was thinking. It was the brief glimpse I hadobtained of the interior of the room that made me rub my eyes andwonder if I was dreaming.

The entire furniture appeared to consist of big stones. I hadseen no chair, no table, only square and oblong stones. At least,I thought they were stones: they certainly looked likestones—stones about three or four feet long and a footthick. And if they were stones, what in the name of fortune werethey there for? Had I come to a private lunatic asylum? Was thewhole place bughouse?

He had half closed the second door behind him so that I couldno longer see anything from the garage. But I could still hear,and the noise was the noise a stonemason makes when chipping witha cold chisel.

I crept even nearer. Confound the risk, I thought; I wascaught, anyway. And by this time my curiosity was so intense thatit banished fear. At last I got near enough to see into the room,or, rather, into a part of it. And what I saw confirmed myopinion. They were bughouse: the whole darned lot of them.

The room was a big one, and the first impression that it gavewas that it had been specially prepared for some mysticalreligious ceremony. The walls were completely concealed withblack curtains, and a thick black carpet covered the floor. Onthis carpet, in the portion of the room that I could see, biggreyish-white stones were lying about apparently haphazard. Somewere on their sides: others stood endways. Some lay isolated:others were arranged as a child might arrange bricks. Oneparticular group that I could see consisted of four stones on endand spaced at intervals of about a foot, with a fifth laid flatacross their tops. In short, the whole effect was that of astonemason's yard arranged by its owner when under the influenceof alcohol.

Through the black curtains the lights stuck out—big,white, frosted lights that seemed to hang unsupported in the air.And after a while, as I looked at the one opposite me, it beganto have the most extraordinary effect on my brain. First it woulddiminish in size, receding into the distance until it was onlythe size of a pin's head; then it would come rushing towards me,blazing bigger and bigger till it seemed to fill the whole room.I found myself swaying, and with a monstrous effort I lookedaway. Almost had I walked towards that light, self-hypnotized.

I forced myself to think of other things, and after a whilethe influence waned. What on earth was this extraordinary room?What was the man doing on the other side of the door? I could notsee him, but steadily, monotonously, the chip, chip, chip wenton. And then it suddenly stopped.

I glanced up only to shrink back against the wall of thepassage. Where she had come from I did not know, but there,standing in the middle of the room, was the woman. It was thefirst time I had seen her without a hat, and for a while I couldonly gaze at her speechlessly.

She was dressed in some sort of loose white robe, and as shestood there outlined against the black background, a hand restinglightly on one of the big stones, she seemed like the priestessof some ancient cult. Her beauty was almost unearthly: her wholeappearance utterly virginal. In her eyes there glowed a strangelight—a light such as might have shone in the eyes of amartyr. And I felt that her soul was all the depth and height ofspace away.

It was incredible to think ill of such a woman—tobelieve her capable of evil. Almost did I believe that she wassomeone else—someone I had not seen before. To think thatit was she who had planned the death trap at the Mere; to thinkit was her I had heard talking coarsely and brutally atStonehenge not two hours ago seemed unbelievable. And then itcame once more, that faint scent like jasmine—and yet notquite jasmine.

"Have you finished?"

She spoke quietly, and now her voice was a delight to hear.And then she stiffened and drew herself up. Into her face therecame a look of disgusted contempt. But the poor fool kneeling ather feet, with his arms round her knees, was oblivious of it. Hewas stammering wild words of love, was the man who looked likeLakington; and so engrossed was I in the scene that the fact ofmy unknown man being the man who looked like Lakington seemedalmost trivial. What did it matter who he was, poor devil: he wasjust an actor in the game that is age-old.

"When, my beloved, are you coming to me?"

Again and again he said it, his voice shaking, his handstrembling. And she just stood there, utterly aloof: to her he wasnon-existent. Her eyes were fixed in front of her, and once herlips moved as if she was speaking to someone no earthly visioncould see. Even as I had seen her speak at the Mere. "Have youfinished?"

With a sigh of utter weariness the man rose to his feet."Yes," he said. "I have."

She smiled, and held out her hand. "Good. For now there mustbe no delay, my friend. Pedro's mistake has forced our hand. Bythe way, is he back?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Probably bythis time."

"Anyway, I have written a letter which must be delivered toone of the three tomorrow morning. We know that Longworth ishere, so he will therefore be the one. Listen, I will read it toyou:

"'My friends, the game has begun to pall. My revenge issufficient. If you will follow the bearer of this you will cometo your destination. And the widow shall be handed over to you.If you don't: if you are afraid to come, you will still be quitesafe. No further steps will be taken against you. You will not beworth it. But Phyllis Drummond will die. So take your choice. Herlife lies in your hands.

"'But let me repeat the warning given to your late lamentedleader. My information is good, so no police. Otherwise PhyllisDrummond will die before you get here.'"

"But, carissima," cried the man, "will they come on that? Itseems such an obvious trap."

"Quite clearly, Paul," she said, "you have much to learnconcerning the mentality of Englishmen of their type. They willcome, even if a cordon of machine-gunners stood in their way. Andwe shall be ready for them."

"And then? After it is over?" He stared at her hungrily as iftrying to read her very soul.

"After it is over," she repeated coolly. "Why, then, my dearPaul, we shall see."

"But you promised," he muttered. "You promised by all you heldsacred. Beloved "—his voice grew urgent andpleading—"for nearly a year I have worked unceasingly togive you your revenge. Worked without reward: at times withoutthanks. Only hope has kept me going, carissima—the hopethat when all was over you would come to me. And now you say, 'Weshall see.' Never have I kissed your lips during all these longmonths. Irma—say to me, promise me again—that I havenot worked in vain."

"No, mon ami," she said. "You have not worked in vain."

With a cry of joy he snatched one of her hands and smotheredit with kisses. And over his bent head I saw her face. She wasshaking with hideous, silent laughter. I craned forwardfascinated: that such a change could take place in any humanbeing's expression seemed impossible. No longer a priestess ofunearthly beauty, but evil incarnate that made one shudder tolook at.

Suddenly the man straightened up, and instantly her facebecame a mask. Even did she go so far as to smile encouraginglyat the poor fish.

"No, Paul," she repeated. "You have not worked in vain.Tomorrow night..."

The sentence was never finished, too late I realized that inmy absorption I had stepped into the light. For a moment or twoshe stared at me in silence. Then—"Who is that man?"

Like a flash her companion swung round. "Why," he said softly,"it's the bank clerk. Have you come to see my collection?" He wasmoving towards me as he spoke, and in his right hand theregleamed a wicked-looking automatic. "Come in, bank clerk," hesaid, still in the same deadly soft voice. "I am honoured indeed,even if the hour is a little unconventional."

XIV. — IN WHICH I MEET MRSDRUMMOND

The situation was undeniably awkward. The factthat I had realized all along that detection was inevitable madeit none the less unpleasant when it came. And I liked neither thelook of the automatic nor that on the man's face. I stepped intothe room.

"I fear it must seem a little strange," I began, making avaliant endeavour to keep my voice steady.

"It does," he agreed suavely. "May we be favoured with anexplanation?"

I plunged desperately. "To tell you the truth," I said, "Ilost my way. I went out for a long walk tonight, and after takingone or two turnings I realized I hadn't the faintest idea where Iwas. Passing along the road I saw this house, and I came up tosee if someone could put me right. I couldn't get any answer, butI saw your garage door was open. So I went in, meaning to askwhen the car returned. And I suppose I must have fallen asleep,for when I woke up the car was back and the door locked."

"I see," said the man. "It seems a pity that such a bigdiscrepancy exists between the first few words of yourexplanation and the rest."

"I don't understand what you mean," I remarked, uncomfortablyconscious that a pulse was hammering in my throat.

"You prefaced your interesting little story," he explained,"by the five words, 'To tell you the truth.' Why not do so?"

With a faint feeling of relief, I saw that the automatic wasno longer in his hand. "I am not accustomed—" I beganhaughtily.

"Be silent," said the woman imperiously. "Do I understand youknow this man, Paul?"

"I met him at Stonehenge yesterday afternoon, my dear," heremarked. "A bank clerk with lengthy holidays. South Africa lastyear, Australia next. I must apply for a position in thatbank."

His eyes were boring into me, and I could have kicked myselfwith mortification. I, who had thought that my playing of thepart had been perfect—that I alone was unsuspected. I triedanother bluff.

"You are very clever, sir," I said coldly. "But not quiteclever enough. My father keeps one of the few remaining privatebanks in which I am a clerk. But, as you will understand, not anordinary clerk. And to broaden my mind he has allowed me totravel extensively."

"Most interesting," he answered. "And most considerate of yourfather. Anyway, that's better than the one before. You'reimproving."

"Stop all this nonsense," said the woman harshly. "Why wasn'tI told about this man?"

"My dear," he said pleadingly, "what was the use?"

"On your own showing," she snapped, "you suspected him. Whywasn't I told?" Her voice was vibrating with anger. She swunground on me. "Who are you, you little rat?"

"My name is Seymour," I stammered.

Suddenly her mood changed, and she lit a cigarette.

"Put him in one of the seats," she ordered quietly.

"This way, Mr Seymour," said the man.

"And what if I refuse," I blustered.

For a moment he stared at me—thin lipped and motionless."Just this," he said gently, "I will blow out your brains whereyou stand."

"A messy proceeding." I strove to speak jauntily. "But may Iask—"

He whipped out his revolver and covered me. "Move," hesnarled. "And move damned quick. Come here."

He crossed to one of the stones. So did I. The more I saw ofthat man, the less I liked him.

I found that the stone at which he was pointing had beenfashioned into a sort of rough seat. "Sit down, and put your armswhere I tell you. There—and there."

I obeyed: there didn't seem anything else to do. And thenthere came a sudden click, and I felt two thin steel bars closeover my wrists. I tugged and he laughed quietly. "I wouldn'twaste your time," he remarked. "You're as much a part of thefurniture now as the stone you are sitting on."

"Look here, sir," I said, "this is going beyond a joke. Iadmit that I had no right whatever to be in your garage, but thatdoesn't afford you any justification for treating me likethis."

He took no notice. He was speaking in low tones to the woman.And suddenly she nodded and came towards me. For a time she stoodin front of me staring into my eyes, and then she spoke. "Do youknow Hugh Drummond?"

Now subconsciously, I suppose, I had been expecting thatquestion, and on that one little effort of mine I do flattermyself.

"Hugh Drummond." I looked at her blankly. "I've never heard ofthe man in my life."

Still she stared at me, but my face gave nothing away. And atlast she turned and spoke to the man.

"Well," I heard him say, "we might try."

She crossed to a door hidden in the curtains and disappeared,leaving me alone with the man.

"What has happened," he said suddenly, "to that egregiousfraud who was pretending to collect butterflies?"

"I haven't any idea," I answered. "He left the hotel beforedinner."

"Say nothing about him," he said curtly. "It will pay you notto."

"I wasn't proposing to," I remarked. "I fail to see theslightest reason for discussing a casual hotel acquaintance, orwhat bearing he has on my present position."

"If you hadn't been a damned fool you wouldn't be in yourpresent position. Now the truth, my friend. Who are you, and howdid you come here?"

"I have nothing to add to what I have already said," Ianswered.

He stared at me moodily, and I grew more and more puzzled. Tryas I would I couldn't get a line on his mental attitude. If, as Inow knew, he had spotted Toby Sinclair as a fraud, and me also,one would have expected him to show signs of gratification, evenof triumph at having caught one of us so easily. Instead of whichhe seemed positively annoyed at my presence. True I hadinterrupted him in the middle of his love-making, but I felt thatdidn't account for it.

"You must be one of them," he said half to himself. "And thatbutterfly fool as well. Damn it! you swarm like rabbits."

I said nothing. Light was beginning to dawn on the situation.Our thin lipped friend wanted the lady, and wanted her quickly.But before he got her he had, in the vernacular, to do a job ofwork. And that job had consisted up till now of disposing of thesix of us. He believed that three were accounted for: the otherswere to be settled in the near future. And now he was confrontedas he thought with further additions to the party, and thereforefurther delay in obtaining his purpose.

"How the devil did you get here?" he repeated angrily.

"I have nothing to add to what I have already said," Irepeated with a smile.

"Damn you," he snarled. "You'll smile the other side of yourface before long. It may amuse you to know that you'll neverleave this room alive."

"That," I remarked with a confidence I was very far fromfeeling, "remains to be seen."

He took out his cigarette case savagely and started pacing upand down. And I for the first time since I had come into the roombegan to examine it more thoroughly. And the more I examined itthe more amazing did it become. The whole of it was in keepingwith the part I had seen from the passage. Stones and yet morestones, placed apparently indiscriminately. And yet, were they?Was there not some definite design? And as I stared round tryingto find the solution I noticed a thing which gave me a queerlittle thrill. There were other roughly shaped seats beside theone I was sitting in—five others, making six in all. Andeach one was fitted with the same steel bars that encircled myown wrists. Six chairs, and six of us. What fantastic scheme hadbeen evolved in that woman's deranged brain? Time, I reflectedgrimly, and time alone would tell.

The sound of a door opening made me turn my head. Irma hadreturned. But now another woman was with her—a woman whowas blindfolded. And with a sudden quickening of my pulse Irealized that this must be Phyllis Drummond herself.

She had evidently been awakened from sleep. Her bare feet werethrust into slippers, and she had slipped a peignoir over herpyjamas. Her face under the handkerchief that covered her eyeswas pale but absolutely determined. Guided by her captor's handon her arm she walked firmly and without hesitation until she washalted in front of my chair.

"What new foolery is this?" she asked scornfully, and Imetaphorically took off my hat to her. Captivity had not brokenher spirit.

"No foolery at all, my dear, but a very pleasant surprise foryou."

Mrs Drummond's hands clenched convulsively. "You don't meanthat Hugh has found me?" A faint smile passed over Irma's face,the news of Drummond's supposed death had evidently beensuppressed. "Not quite that," answered the other, "but one of hisfriends has."

"Then," said Mrs Drummond breathlessly, "he has succeeded. Andso I am free to go. Who is it? Is it you, Peter?"

With a quick movement Irma whipped off the handkerchief andfor a while Drummond's wife stared at me blankly. Then she turnedwearily to her captor. "Why torment me?" she said. "What's thegood? You know Hugh's friends. I've never seen this man before inmy life."

And Irma who had been watching her intently relaxed and turnedto the man. "That's genuine," she said briefly.

"Is this by any chance," I remarked ponderously, "a privatelunatic asylum?"

"You may well ask, sir," said Mrs Drummond. "I don't know whoyou are, or how you came here, but there is at any rate one madperson present. And that is this woman."

Irma laughed, and lit a cigarette. "Dear little Phyllis," shemurmured. "Always so direct and positive, aren't you? And nowthat you've been introduced to this room a little sooner than Ihad intended, tell me what you think of it?"

Mrs Drummond looked about her, a look of complete bewildermentspreading gradually over her face.

"What on earth does it all mean," she said at length. "Whatare all these stones for?"

"A model, my dear," answered the other gently, "that it hastaken Paul much labour and trouble to construct. A model that isaccurate in every detail."

"A model of what?"

"Of Stonehenge. One or two of the stones have been left out,but all the important ones are here. There for instance you seethe Friar's Heel, and that one is the altar stone. You know thelegend, of course. Some authorities do not believe in it, butit's a very pretty fairy story anyway. It runs that when thefirst rays of the rising sun on Midsummer Day shining over theFriar's Heel strike this third stone, the name of which I havenot yet told you, the ceremony begins."

Her voice was soft and almost caressing, nevertheless my lipswere dry. For I knew what the third stone was.

"It must have been an interesting ceremony, Phyllis. Can't yousee those wild-eyed priests clad in fantastic garments? Can't yousee that great rolling plain and the waiting multitude ofsavages—waiting in the hush that comes before the dawn forthe first gleam of the sun above the horizon?"

I was staring at her fascinated: her eyes were glitteringfeverishly—her cigarette was forgotten.

"A minute more—and a sigh runs round the spectators. Afew seconds, and the excitement grows. You can feel it—hearit like wind rustling in the trees.

"Inside the sacred circle stand the priests—some by thealtar stone, some by this third stone here. All eyes are turnedtowards the east to greet the arrival of their god. This is theday on which he vouchsafes them his visible presence longest:this is the day on which it is meet and proper that he should bepropitiated and thanked. An offering must be made: a sacrificegiven.

"And on this third stone, waiting, too, for that first ray tostrike her, lies the sacrifice. For those around her, for thehushed multitude outside, the moment that is just coming meanslife—the continuation of the benefits their god hasbestowed on them since last Midsummer Day. For her itmeans—death: the stone on which she lies is the SlaughterStone."

She fell silent, and I glanced at Mrs Drummond. She wasstaring at the speaker with a dawning horror in her eyes, andsuddenly she bit the back other hand to keep back a cry. Sheknew—and I knew. But after a moment she pulled herselftogether with a great effort.

"Most interesting," she remarked steadily. "And did you haveall these stones put up so that you could play charades onthem?"

Slowly the madness faded from the other's face, and sheflicked the ash from her cigarette on to the carpet. "That's it,"she smiled. "A little game of let's-pretend. We shall be playingit tomorrow, my dear—or rather tonight. What part would youlike to take?"

The silence grew unbearable, and yet once again did I take offmy hat to that poor girl. She was powerless: she wastrapped—but she was white clean through.

"I am not very good at acting," she said indifferently.

"Yours will be a passive—even if a very important role,"returned the other. "No histrionic ability will be required."

"And may I ask," I remarked politely, "if I am to beprivileged with a part. I must say I don't think much of thecomfort of your stalls."

For the moment at any rate my role was clear: I must remainthe outsider who had blundered into a madhouse. Slowly the womanturned and stared at me.

"I think you will look nice as a dead-head," she murmured.

"Am I to understand that the rest of the audience will havepaid for their seats?"

"They will at any rate have worked hard," she returned. "But Ican assure you there will be no jealousy on that account. Theunexpected guest is always welcome."

"Charming," I said cheerfully. "At the same time, if it is allthe same to you, I would rather like to know the hour the showstarts so that until then I can enjoy my very short holiday inthe manner I had intended to. Frankly this seat is giving mecramp."

I winked ostentatiously at Mrs Drummond: obviously this femalemust be humoured. But there was no response from her: somewhatnaturally she accepted my role at its face value.

"This gentleman knows nothing about your wicked game," sheburst out. "It's unfair, it's unjust to keep him here."

"To know nothing about the play is always an advantage,"returned the other. "However, I grow weary. We will retire, mydear Phyllis—so that we shall both be fresh for theperformance."

She led the way to the door, and I was left alone with theman.

"Look here, sir," I said angrily, "this has gone far enough. Iadmit that what I told you sounds a bit fishy: nevertheless ithappens to be the truth. And I insist upon being allowed to go.Or if you wish to give me in charge then send for the police. Butthis is preposterous. You now know that I am not one of them,whoever 'they' may be."

"And you," he retorted calmly, "now know altogether too much.So for the purposes of this entertainment—positively forone night only—I fear you will have to be treated as if youwere one of them."

He strolled through the door leading to the garage, and Iheard the chink of metal against metal as he put the tools backon the bench. My last hope had gone, my last bluff had failed.When Mrs Drummond had failed to recognize me, and Irma herselfhad said "that's genuine," there had seemed for a while apossibility of escape. Now there was none. Now everything mustdepend on Drummond. He would follow the other three, of course,but without any idea of the strength he was walking into.

I counted them up in my mind. There was the man called Paul,the chauffeur, the man with the damaged hand; thesailor—and last but not least the negro. So many I knew ofpersonally; how many more there were remained to be seen. Andwhat chance had Drummond against a bunch like that? If only Icould have got away I could have warned him. I began to tugdesperately at the steel bars until a woman's laugh made me lookup suddenly. Irma had returned.

"You can save yourself the trouble, bank clerk," she saidmockingly, and at the sound other voice Paul returned.

"I suppose we had better gag him, my dear," he remarked, andshe nodded carelessly.

"Yes," she said. "Gag him—and then go."

"This is an outrage," I spluttered, and the next instant hehad deftly slipped a gag into my mouth, and then wrapped ahandkerchief round me.

"If I hear a sound," he said quietly, "I shall come down andfinish you off on the spot. Carissima, you must be tired." Hecrossed to the woman. "Won't you come to bed?"

"Go," she said curtly. "I shall come in a few minutes."

He went unwillingly, and for a while the woman stoodmotionless staring in front of her. The strange look had returnedto her eyes: she had forgotten my existence. Noiselessly shemoved about on the thick black carpet, the incarnation of graceand beauty. First to one stone, and then to another she glided,as a hostess might move round her drawing-room, giving it thefinishing touches before the arrival of her guests.

And then at last she paused before the altar stone. She kneltdown and ran her fingers along underneath it searching forsomething. At length she found it and pulled it out. It was thephotograph of a man.

Fascinated I watched her as she kissed it passionately: thenshe placed it on the altar in front of her, and bowed her head asif in prayer. I heard the murmur of the other voice, but theactual words I could not distinguish. And after a while I beganto feel drowsy. The gleaming white light opposite seemed to begrowing bigger and bigger my head lolled back. And on the instantI was wide awake again.

Part of the roof was glassed in, like the roof of a racquetcourt, and some of the panes were open for ventilation. Andstaring through one of the openings was a man. His eyes werefixed on the kneeling woman: his face was inscrutable. Then heglanced at me, and for a brief second our eyes met. In am instanthe had disappeared, and I was left trying to fit this newdevelopment into the jigsaw. For the man who had been staringthrough the skylight was the sailor.

Still her voice droned on musically, but I paid no attention.It confirmed, of course, my knowledge that the sailor was one ofthem, but why should he be on the roof? Spying, presumably:spying on the woman. And when he realized that I had seen him hehad disappeared at once for fear I might say something.

"My lover! My god!"

Her words, clear at last, came through the silent room, andonce again I looked at her. With her hands clasped together shewas rocking to and fro on her knees in front of thephotograph.

"Tonight, I come to you, my beloved."

And the lights shone on, gleaming like great stars against theblack curtains. And the carpet seemed to glisten like some darkmountain pool deep hidden in the rocks. And the great whitestones that rose from it took unto themselves life, and joined ina mighty chorus—"My beloved."

I closed my eyes: I was dreaming. It was some dreadfulnightmare.

"My beloved, I come to you."

The sailor was shouting it: the man who had sprung at me outof the ditch was shouting it: Paul, his face a seething mass ofblack passion, was shouting it. I was shouting it,too—shouting it better than anyone—shouting it sowell and so loudly that the woman herself, Irma, looked into myeyes and praised me. I could feel her fingers on my eyelids, froma great distance she nodded as if satisfied. Then came darkness.I slept.

It was daylight when I woke, cramped and stiff in every limb.There was a foul taste in my mouth, and I wondered if I had beendrugged. I had noticed nothing peculiar on the handkerchief, butonly on that supposition could I account for my condition. Myhead ached, my eyes felt bleary, and I'd have given most of myworldly possessions for a cup of tea.

By a stupendous feat of contortion I twisted my head so that Icould see my wrist watch, only to find that the damned thing hadstopped. Not, I reflected, that it mattered very much what thetime was: an odd hour or two this way or that was of littleaccount situated as I was. And after a while I began to cursemyself bitterly for having been such an utter fool. If only Ihadn't shown myself in the passage: if only...

But what was the use? I hadn't slipped off the car: I hadshown myself in the passage. And here I was caught without, asfar as I could see, a chance of getting away. What made it morebitter still was the knowledge I possessed, the invaluableknowledge, if only I could have passed it on. Why, if HughDrummond only knew, he, with his marvellous shooting ability,could dominate the whole scene from the roof. But he didn't know,and all he would do would be to walk straight into the trap afterthe other three.

After a while my thoughts turned in anotherdirection—even less pleasant than the first. What was instore for us? Was it all some grim, fantastic jest, or was it arevenge so terrible that the mere thought of it made me almostsick? Could it be conceivably possible that this foul womanintended to kill Mrs Drummond in front of us all? And afterwardsdeal with us?

It seemed inconceivable, and yet the trap at the Mere was justas dastardly. It was no good judging her by ordinary standards:therein lay the crux. She was mad, and to a mad woman everythingis conceivable. Anyhow the present was bad enough withoutworrying over the future.

Faintly through the wall I heard the self-starter being used,and then the car leave the garage. That must be the note going toDarrell and Co. Would they walk into it blindly, or would theytake some rudimentary precautions? Would they believe that thiswoman did really intend to set Mrs Drummond free if theycame?

From every angle I turned the thing over in my mind only toarrive at the same brick wall each time. Whatever they did do ordidn't do, I was out of the picture. I was powerless to help themin any way so there wasn't much use worrying.

"Have we slept well?" came a sardonic voice from the door.

Paul, with a sneering smile on his thin lips, was standingthere looking at me. Then he came over and removed thehandkerchief and the gag. For a time I could only move my jawsstiffly up and down, and make hoarse grunting noises—athing which seemed to cause him unbounded amusem*nt.

"Damn you," I croaked at last, "did you dope me lastnight?"

"A very efficacious and but little known narcotic, MrSeymour," he remarked suavely, "was on the handkerchief I putround your mouth. Was your sleep dreamless and refreshing?"

"For God's sake," I muttered, "give me something to drink. Mytongue feels like a fungoidal growth."

"A defect, I admit," he said, "in that particular drug. Itleaves an unpleasant taste. And so I have much pleasure intelling you that it is on the matter of breakfast that I havecome."

"Breakfast," I shuddered. "If I saw an egg I'd be sick."

There came a little click from behind my chair, and the steelbars slipped off my wrists.

"Stand up," he said. "At the moment the warning isunnecessary, I know. But bear in mind that freedom from your lateposition does not imply any further concession. So—nomonkey tricks."

He was right: at the moment—and for a considerablenumber of moments—the warning was unnecessary. Both my armshad gone to sleep: and as soon as I got up I was attacked by themost agonizing cramp in my left leg. But at last I managed toregain some semblance of normality.

"Where's that drink?" I muttered.

"All in due course," he returned. "Owing to the fact thatcertain small preparations have to be made here for our littleentertainment tonight we have to find other accommodation for youtoday. It would be a great pity if the element of surprise waslacking. And so you will come with me, Mr Seymour: and you willbear in mind that I have a revolver in my hand, Mr Seymour, andthat my finger is on the trigger, Mr Seymour. And that should yougive me the slightest trouble, you wretched interfering littlebusybody, that finger will connect with the trigger and theresult will connect with you. So, hump yourself."

I could feel the muzzle of his gun in the small of my back ashe pushed me towards the door. But I didn't care: anything wasbetter than the atrocious discomfort of that stone seat. Moreovera drink appeared to be looming on the horizon.

The door led into the hall. No one was about, and still in thesame positions we reached the foot of the stairs.

"Up," he said curtly.

At a turn in the staircase stood a grandfather clock, and Isaw it was half past nine. So I reckoned I must have slept forfive or six hours.

"Through that door," he ordered.

A man I had never seen before rose as we came in. But I didn'tcare about him: my eyes were riveted on a teapot.

"Charles will be your companion for today," he remarked. "Andyou had better look at Charles." I did: then I returned to theteapot. As an object to contemplate Charles did not appeal tome.

"Charles has orders," continued the other, "to deal faithfullywith you in the event of the slightest trouble. That is so, isn'tit, Charles?"

"I'll deal with 'im faithfully, guv'nor," he chuckled. "'Ewon't try nothing on twice, I gives yer my word. Why, I'd eat alittle mess like that."

He emitted a whistling noise through a gap in his teeth.

"Paint the wall wiv 'is faice, I will," he continuedmorosely.

"A character is Charles," said Paul to me. "Equally handy withhis fists or a knife. So be careful, Mr Seymour—verycareful."

I gulped down my cup of tea and began to feel better. "I amsure I shall find him a most entertaining companion," I murmured."Now don't let me detain you any more, little man. Run away andhave your children's hour with the bricks downstairs. Or are yougoing to play puffers in the passage?"

And, astounding to relate, it got home. For a moment I thoughthe was going to hit me. His face was white with rage, his fistswere clenched—evidently a gentleman without the savinggrace of humour. But he controlled himself and went out slammingthe door behind him, and I began to feel better still.

Anyway my limbs were free, and I'd had something to drink.Moreover there were cigarettes in my pocket. "Charles," I said,"will you smoke?"

Charles said—"Yus," and I began to take close stock ofCharles. And one thing was quite obvious at first glance. He wasperfectly capable of painting the wall with my face if it came toa trial of strength. So that if I was going to turn the change ofquarters to my advantage it would have to be a question of brainand cunning and not force. And the first and most obvious methodseemed bribery.

I led up to it tactfully, but diplomacy was wasted on Charles.At the mention of the word money his face became quiteintelligent.

"'Ow much 'ave you?" he demanded.

"About thirty pounds," I answered. "It's yours here and now ifyou'll let me go, and then there's nothing to prevent youclearing out yourself."

"Let's see the colour of it," he said, and with a wild hopesurging up in me I pulled out my pocket book. If I got away atonce I'd be in time.

"There you are," I cried. "Twenty-eight pounds."

"Looks good to me," he remarked. "Though I ain't partial tofivers myself. Some suspicious blokes takes the numbers. Youain't suspicious are you, matey?"

He slipped the bundle into his pocket, and I stood up.

"Is it safe now," I said eagerly.

"Is wot safe now?"

"For me to go, damn it."

"Go where?"

"Out of the house, as you promised."

"Naughty, naughty," he said reproachfully. "Do you mean to saythat that there money was hintended as a bribe?"

I stared at him speechlessly.

"And I thort as 'ow it was just a little return for thepleasure of be'olding my faice."

"You confounded scoundrel," I spluttered. "Give me back mynotes."

Charles became convulsed with an internal upheaval thatapparently indicated laughter.

"Yer know, matey," he said when he could at last speak, "Ididn't know that they let things like you out of a 'ome."

Once more the convulsion seized him, and a dull overmasteringrage began to rise within me. The limit of my endurance had beenreached. I felt I didn't care what happened. Damn Drummond andall his works: damn the moment I'd ever let myself in for thisfool show. Above all, damn this great hulking blackguard who hadpinched my money, and now sat there nearly rolling off his chairwith laughter.

And suddenly I saw red. I sprang at him and hit him with allmy force in the face. Then while he was still too surprised tomove I got in a real purler with the teapot over his right eye.And after that I frankly admit I don't remember much more. Irecall that he did not remain too surprised to move for long. Irecall seeing something that gleamed in his hand, and feeling asearing, burning pain in my forearm. I also recall that an objectwhich felt like a steam hammer hit my jaw. Then—ablank.

XV. — IN WHICH SOME OF THEOTHERS JOIN ME

When I came to myself I was back in the roombelow, fastened to the same seat as before. The filthy taste wasin my mouth again, so I guessed they had used the narcotic on meonce more. But this time that wasn't my only trouble. My jaw feltas if it had been broken: and my arm, which some one had bound uproughly, ached intolerably.

For a while I sat there motionless. I was feeling dazed anddrowsy. I'd almost come to the end of my tether. A sort of dullapathy had told of me. I felt I didn't care what happened as longas it happened quickly.

The room was absolutely silent, and after a time I forced mybrain to work. I was alone: I was ungagged. Supposing I shoutedfor help. There was a bare chance that I might be heard by somestray passer-by. Anyway it was worth trying.

"Help!" I roared at the pitch of my lungs. "Help!"

I listened: still no sound. Very good: I'd try again. I openedmy mouth: I shut it. Or perhaps it would be more correct to sayit shut itself.

A huge black hand had suddenly materialized fromnowhere—a hand with the fingers curved like a bird's talon.I stared at it fascinated, as it moved gently towards my throat.There was no hurry, but the utmost deliberation in the wholeaction. And this time I nearly screamed in sheer terror.

The fingers closed round my throat, and began playing with it.Still quite gently. No force was used; but every touch of thosefingers gave its own message of warning.

As suddenly as it had appeared, it went, and I sat theresweating and silent. So I was not alone: somewhere behind me, outof sight, was that cursed nigg*r Pedro. The hand that had closedon my throat was the actual hand that had murdered that poordevil the night before. And as if he had read my thoughts therecame from above my head a hideous throaty chuckle. Then silenceonce again.

Gradually I grew calmer, though the thought of that greatblack brute lurking behind me was horrible. If only I could seethe devil it would be better. But he remained out of sight, andafter a time I began to think he must have gone. Into the garageperhaps—the passage leading to it was behind me. Whether hehad or whether he hadn't, however, I dismissed the idea ofcalling for help.

To distract my mind, I studied the room with closer attention.I could see more than half, and I wondered what the smallpreparations were that Paul had spoken of. As far as I could seenothing was changed: the same stones, the same carpet. And thenit struck me that on one of the stone seats was what looked likea block of wood. It was about the size of a box of a hundredcigarettes, and a cord stuck out from one end on to thecarpet.

I looked at the other seats. A similar block was on each oneof them, and by pushing myself backwards in my own, I could feelthe sharp edge against my spine.

By twisting my head I could just see the cord attached to it.It was a long one, and I followed it idly with my eyes across thecarpet until it disappeared behind the next stone. Part of thepreparations evidently, but with what purpose was beyond me. Justas everything else was beyond me. Time alone would show.

But that fact didn't stop one thinking. Round and round in myhead ran the ceaseless question—what was going to happenthat night? From every angle I studied it till my brain grewmuzzy with the effort. What was going to be done to us? Did thatwoman really mean all she had implied, or had it been a jest madeto frighten Mrs Drummond?

After a while I dozed off, only to wake up sweating from anappalling dream in which two of the great stones were being usedto crush my head by the nigg*r. Looking back now I suppose I wasa little light-headed, but at the time I wasn't conscious of it.I had lost a good deal of blood from the wound in my arm though Ididn't know it then. And as the day wore on, and the roomgradually grew darker and darker, I sank into a sort of stupor.Vaguely I heard odd sounds, the car in the garage, a man's voicein the hall, but they seemed to come from a long way off. And theonly real things in my mental outlook were those cursed whitestones.

They moved after a while, passing me in a ceaselessprocession. They heaved and dipped and formed fours till I cursedthem foolishly. And something else moved, too—a great blackform that flitted between them peering and examining. Twice did Isee it, and the second time I forced myself back to reality.

It was the negro, and he seemed intensely interested ineverything—almost childishly so. He touched stone afterstone with his fingers. Then he picked up one of the littleblocks that I had noticed, and examined it closely, gruntingunder his breath.

Suddenly he straightened up and stood listening. Then with aquick movement he replaced the block, and vanished behind me justas the door into the hall opened and Paul came in. He crossed tomy stone and stood looking down at me, while I feigned sleep. Andafter a time he too began to stroll round amongst the otherstones.

He examined each of the blocks, and the cords that ran fromthem. And as I watched him out of the corner of my eye I noticeda thing I had missed before. On the altar stone was a littleblack box, and all the cords appeared to lead to it. He seemedparticularly interested in that box, but in the bad light Icouldn't see what he was doing. At length, however, he put itdown, and lighting a cigarette once more came and stood in frontof me. I looked up at him dully.

"You really are the most congenital ass I've ever met, MrSeymour," he said pleasantly. "Did you honestly think Charleswould let you go?"

"I've given up trying to think in this mad house," I retorted."When is this ridiculous farce going to end?"

He made no reply for a while, but just stood staring at methoughtfully. "I really am rather interested in you," he said atlength. "It would be most devilish funny if you really have gotnothing to do with them."

"I've already told you that I don't know what you are talkingabout," I cried. "You're making a fearful mistake. I don't knowwho you mean by them."

He began to chuckle. "'Pon my soul," he said, "I'm almostbeginning to think that you don't. Which makes the jestexcessively rich."

"A positive scream," I agreed sarcastically. "Would it be toomuch to hope that I might be permitted to share it?"

"I fear," he answered, "that you might not quite appreciateit."

He continued to chuckle immoderately.

"You will in time, I promise you," he went on. "And then youwill see how terribly funny it all is. I must say," he continuedseriously, almost more to himself than to me, "I did thinkyesterday that you and the butterfly gentleman were mixed up init."

"I wish to Heaven," I said wearily, "that you would realizethat I haven't the remotest idea what you're talking about. And Ifurther wish you to be under no delusions as to what I'm going todo when I do manage to get out of this place."

He started laughing again. "What are you going to do?" heasked. "Don't, I beg of you, terrify me too much!"

I stuck to it good and hard. Useless it might be, but at anyrate it was better than nothing. "I shall go straight to thepolice," I said, "and lodge a summons against you for assault andbattery. And as for that cursed ruffian upstairs..."

"Poor Charles," he remarked. "You dotted him one with theteapot all right. Well, thank you for your kindly warning. You'llhave some other privileged spectators coming to join yousoon—three of them." He strolled to the door, and lookedback as he reached it. "I can keep no secrets from you, bankclerk," he said. "You have an indefinable attraction for me. Doyou see those little blocks in the seats?"

"Yes," I said.

"There is one in yours, just behind you."

"I've felt it already," I remarked.

"Well, be very careful how you feel it," he said gently. "Donothing rough with it. Treat it as a mother treats a sicklychild—gently and tenderly. Because it happens to be gun-cotton. Admittedly a safe explosive—but one neverknows."

For a moment I was absolutely speechless.

"Gun-cotton," I stammered at length. "Good God! man—areyou joking?"

"Far from it," he said. "But I can assure you that there's nochance of it going off—yet." He smiled genially. "The factof the matter is, bank clerk, that you have butted your head intosome rather dirty work. I don't mind admitting that there aremoments when I think it is almost too dirty. But "—heshrugged his shoulders—"when the ladies get ideas in theircharming heads, who are we to gainsay them?"

"If by the ladies you allude to that partially demented femalewho was talking such infernal rot last night," I said grimly,"I'll tell you one idea that she has got wedged in hers. She'sgot about as much use for you as a co*ckney has for a haggis."

"I don't understand you," he said softly, but I noticed that,of a sudden, he was standing very still.

"Then I'll make myself clearer," I remarked. "You cut no icewith her, Paul: she loathes the sight of your face. I watched herlast night when you were pulling out the knee clutching business,and her expression was that of one who contemplates a bad eggfrom close range."

"You are pleased to be insolent, Mr Seymour." He was stillstanding motionless by the door.

"I am pleased to be nothing, you flat-headed skate," Ianswered. It struck me that a little of Drummond's vocabularymight assist. "But if you imagine that after you've done whateverfool tricks you are going to do you're then going to land thebeauteous lady you're making the deuce of an error. Nothingdoing, Paul: you can take my word for it."

"But for the fact," he remarked after a time, "that the deathyou are going to die is such a particular choice one, I wouldstrangle you here and now for those words."

"Doesn't alter the fact that she loathes the sight of yourface, laddie," I mocked. "And I certainly don't blame her."

He sprang across the room towards me, and I don't think I haveever seen such a look of demoniacal rage on any man's facebefore. In fact, but for the interruption, I believe he wouldhave carried out his threat. As it was he managed to controlhimself with a monstrous effort as the door opened and the womanherself came in.

"Quick, Paul," she cried. "They are coming—the three ofthem. Where's Pedro? Charles is here but we want the nigg*r. Andgag that fool of a clerk."

He stuffed a gag into my mouth, and glared at me. "One sound,and I'll knife you," he muttered. "Pedro!" He looked over myshoulder. "Where is the damned fool?" he said irritably. "I'vehardly seen him the whole day? Pedro!"

There was a guttural grunt, and then the huge nigg*r shambledpast me. His head was down, and in the dim light he looked aterrifying sight.

"Get behind the curtains, Pedro. And don't kill. We want themalive in the chairs. Charles—get the other side of thedoor."

Sick with anxiety I waited. Could nothing be done to warnthem? They were walking straight into the trap, and suddenly thefull realization of our position seemed to strike me. All verywell to gain a little cheap satisfaction by taunting the man overhis love affair, but it didn't alter the fact that once thesethree men were caught the odds against us were wellnigh hopeless.Drummond couldn't fight half a dozen men, especially when two ofthem had the strength of the negro and the one calledCharles.

The woman had left the room: the three men were hiding behindthe curtains, so to all appearances except for myself it wasempty. And then I heard Darrell's voice in the hall.

"So we meet again, madame," he said gravely. "As you probablyknow we have come without informing any one, trusting that youwill keep your side of the bargain."

"Quite like old times seeing you," she answered. "And MrJerningham and Mr Longworth, too."

"Shall we cut the conversation, madame?" he remarked. "At yourinstigation three men—one of whom was Hughhimself—have been foully murdered. So you will pardon me ifI say that the sooner you hand Mrs Drummond over to us the betterI shall be pleased. In your letter you said that your revenge wassufficient. Let us then be done with it."

"We seem much milder than of yore," she mocked.

"You have Mrs Drummond in your power," he said simply. "Wehave no alternative. Well, madame, we are waiting."

"Yes, mes amis, you are right," she answered after a pause."We will be done with it. You shall have Phyllis. And believe meI am almost sorry now that I ever started it. Moods change. A fewweeks ago there was nothing I desired more than the deaths of allof you. Today I regret the Mere. Come this way."

"One moment, madame. Does she know that her husband isdead?"

"No—she does not. Mr Darrell, it is easy to say, I know,but I wish he were not."

"A pity you didn't think of that a little earlier, madame," hesaid grimly. "Where are we to go? Why cannot Mrs Drummond behanded over to us in this hall?"

"You will soon see why," she answered, appearing in the door."Besides I particularly want to show you all this room."

I gave an agonized guttural choke but it was no good. As shehad doubtless anticipated they paused inside the door, completelytaken off their guard by the strangeness of theirsurroundings.

"What on earth," began Jerningham, and even as he spoke thethree hidden men sprang on them.

In a few seconds it was all over. Paul had a revolver inJerningham's neck. Charles gave the same attention to Darrell.And poor little Algy Longworth was the negro's share. He wasmerely picked up like a kicking baby and deposited in a seat.Then the steel bars were turned and he sat there glowering.

"You damned dirty nigg*r," he shouted angrily.

"Silence, you little rat," said Irma. "Get the other twofixed. Shoot, Paul, if they give any trouble."

But the muzzle of a revolver in the nape of a man's neck is agood preventer of trouble, and soon the four of us were sittingthere like trussed birds.

"So it was a trick, was it?" said Darrell quietly.

The woman began to shake with laughter.

"You fools," she cried, "you brainless fools. Did you reallyimagine that I was going to hand Phyllis over to you and let youwalk out of the house. You must be mad."

She turned on Charles and the nigg*r.

"Go! Get out! But be around in case I want you. Paul—youcan ungag the bank clerk."

Her glance roved from one to the other of us.

"Four," she said musingly. "And there should have been six.You see, Darrell, that there are six seats prepared for yourreception."

Her eyes were beginning to glitter feverishly, and as shestood in the centre of the room her body swayed gracefully fromside to side as if she was dancing. To me it was not unexpected,but the other three were staring at her in amazement. As yet theyhad not seen one of her outbursts.

"Still we must make do with four, I suppose," she went on."Unless, Paul, we sent out for two more. No—better not. Letus keep our final meeting as intimate as possible. And we alreadyhave one stranger."

"Where is Phyllis Drummond?" said Jerningham.

She turned and looked at him dreamily.

"Phyllis is waiting." she answered. "For days she has beenwaiting for you to come, and now very soon she will joinyou."

"And what then," snapped Darrell.

"Why then, mon ami, you shall all go on a journey together. Along journey. Ah! if only Hugh was here: if only my circle wascomplete. Then indeed the reunion would be a wonderful one."

And now the crazy glitter in her eyes grew more pronouncedtill I marvelled that the man called Paul could ever have hopedfor any return for his love. The woman was frankly crazy, andstealing a glance at him I saw that he was staring at her with adawning horror in his face.

"Carissima," he muttered. "I beseech of you, do not exciteyourself."

"But as it is we shall have to make do with four." Her voicehad risen. "Four instead of six. And the principal guest nothere. Why—the whole lot of you could go if only Drummondwas here. But I did my best, Carl—I did my best."

She had turned to the altar stone, and was speaking to it.

"I did my best, beloved—I did my best. And his end wasnot unworthy. Gassed—and drowned like a rat in a trap."

She threw herself across the stone, her arms outstretched, andfor a space there was silence in the darkening room. Thenabruptly she rose and swept to the door.

"At nine o'clock, Paul, we will begin."

"Look here," I said when she had gone, "Paul—or whateveryour name is—what is the good of going on with this?"

He stared at me dully.

"The woman is clean plumb crazy. She is as mad as a hatter. Sowhat are you going to get out of it? You can't marry a mad woman:you can't even make love to her."

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"For God's sake, man," I went on urgently, "pull yourselftogether. Set us free, and let us go."

"She'll be all right—after," he said at length. "Quiteall right—after." He turned towards the door, and indesperation I played my last card.

"You poor ass," I cried, "there isn't going to be an after forher. When she has finished us, she's going to commit suicide. Andwhatever you choose to do with a lunatic, you're stung good andstrong with a corpse."

It was no good. He opened the door and went out. In fact Idoubt if he even heard what I said, and with a feeling of sickdespair I looked at the others.

"So they haven't spotted you, Dixon," said Darrell in a lowvoice.

"Not yet," I answered. "I don't think it ever dawned on themthat I was one of the three they think were drowned at the Mere.But, for a while they suspected me of being another member of thebunch—a new one. Then Mrs Drummond rode them off."

"You've seen her?" said Jerningham eagerly.

"Last night," I said. "She was brought down here blindfoldedand suddenly confronted with me. And there was no mistake abouther failure to identify me being genuine. Not that it mattersmuch," I went on gloomily. "We're hopelessly for it unlessDrummond can do something. Why in Heaven's name did you fellowswalk into it so easily?"

"Because he told us to," answered Darrell calmly.

"Told you to," I echoed in amazement.

"A short note," he said. "Just—Follow themessenger—all three of you. Be surprised at nothing. Andtell Dixon that he must not reveal my identity until he hears theAnthem whistled once."

"He knows I'm here?" I cried. "But I don't understand."

"Frankly—no more do I," said Algy. "What's this damnedstone quarry?"

"It's a model," I said, "of Stonehenge. Look here, youfellows, I'll tell you all I know. I can pretend that we arestrangers if anyone comes in. But there is no reason why weshouldn't talk in view of the position we are in—its mostdamnably serious."

"Fire ahead," said Jerningham quietly.

I told them everything; what I knew, and what I onlysuspected. I told them of the dead man at Stonehenge, and thescene of the night before. And they listened with consternationgrowing on their faces.

"It was our last hope," I said, "trying to make that manrealize she was mad. But he's wild about her—absolutelywild."

"You really think she's going to commit suicide," said Darrelldoubtfully.

"I do," I answered. "Though the point is of academic interestonly as far as we are concerned. She is going to do all of us infirst."

"Man—but it's a fearful risk." said Jerningham.

"Don't you see," I cried, "that she doesn't care a damn aboutthe risk. What does the risk matter to her if she's going to joinCarl, as she thinks, after? And that poor fish, Paul, is soinfatuated with her that he is prepared to run any risk to gether."

We argued it from every angle whilst the room grew darker anddarker. To them the only thing that mattered was that Drummondhad told them to come: that Drummond had something up his sleeve.But try as I would, I couldn't share their optimism. What couldhe do alone—or at best with Toby Sinclair to help him? Theodds were altogether too heavy. Had we all been free it wouldhave been different. Then we could have put up a good show. As itwas the thing seemed hopeless to me. And yet he had deliberatelytold these three to walk into the trap. It wasincomprehensible.

It appeared that they had not seen him, but had only receivedthe note. And the previous night Algy Longworth had also got anote which explained his movements to me. It had containedinstructions to the effect that he was to announce publicly hisintention of going to Stonehenge after dinner, that as he valuedhis life he was not to go but was to take a walk in the oppositedirection.

"If I had gone," he said, "I suppose I should have shared thefate of the poor devil you saw dead. I wonder who he was."

"Ask me another," I remarked. "He was a complete stranger tome. But he was undoubtedly murdered by that foul brute of anigg*r."

Conversation became desultory. All our nerves were gettingfrayed. The light had almost gone; we were just vague shapes toone another as we sat there fastened to those fantastic stones,waiting for nine o'clock.

"I can't believe it," burst out Jerningham once. "Damnit—it's like a nightmare."

No one answered; only the throaty chuckle that I had heardbefore came from somewhere behind me. "It's the nigg*r," gruntedDarrell. "Get out, you filthy brute."

He chuckled again, and then like some monstrous misshapenanimal he began to shamble round the room. I could just see himin the darkness peering first at one thing and then at another.He went to the two unoccupied seats and began fiddling with themechanism that moved the two curved steel bars. He worked itseveral times, chuckling to himself like a child, and suddenlycame Jerningham's voice strained and tense.

"Come and do that to my chair, nigg*r. I'll give you somecigarettes and money if you do."

But the black man took no notice. He had transferred hisattentions now to the black box that lay upon the altar stone.That occupied him for a long while, and all the time the throatychuckling continued. Every now and then came the chink of tin onstone: then, as silently as he had come, he vanished again.

It was the suspense of waiting that was so appalling, and Ibegan to long for nine o'clock. A mood of dull resignation hadcome over me. I felt I simply didn't care. Anything—so longas they got on with it. And as if in answer to my thoughts thedoor leading into the hall slowly opened, and a clock outsidebegan to chime.

"Nine," muttered somebody.

The final act was about to begin.

XVI. — IN WHICH WE HAVE AREHEARSAL

I think my main feeling was one of intensecuriosity. There was no light in the hall, but a faint lesseningof the general darkness marked the door. For a time nothinghappened, then something white appeared in the opening, and theroom was flooded with light.

The woman Irma was standing there clad in the same whitegarment she had worn the preceding night. Behind her hoveredPaul—his face more saturnine than ever, but it was on herthat all our attention was concentrated. In her hands she heldsome largish object which was covered with a silken cloth, andafter a while she advanced to the altar stone and placed it therereverently. Then she removed the wrap, and I saw that it was afull size plaster cast of a man's head.

"Dashed if it isn't our late lamented Carl," mutteredDarrell.

The woman took no notice, she was staring intently at thecast. Once or twice her lips moved, but I heard no words, and fora time her hands were clasped in front of her as if in prayer.Then quite suddenly she turned her back on the altar and began tospeak, whilst we watched her fascinated.

"A few months ago," she said, "I stood beside the wreckage ofWilmot's giant airship, and over the charred body of my man Iswore an oath. That oath will be finally fulfilled tonight."

Her voice was quiet and conversational.

"But for an accident last night—a mistake on the part ofone of my servants—I should not have sent you three thenote I did. But Pedro, whom you have doubtless seen, killed a manat Stonehenge, and that necessitated a hastening in my plans. Whydid you not go to Stonehenge, Longworth?"

"Got hiccoughs after dinner, darling," said Algy cheerfully."Tell me, my poppet, is that a new line in nightdresses?"

And just as Paul became livid with rage when I had jeered athim that morning, so now did the woman turn white to the lipswith passion.

"You dog," she screamed. "How dare you? Strike him,Paul—strike him across the face."

Then she controlled herself.

"Stay," she said in a calmer voice. "He is not worth it. Iwill continue—for there is much to say. But for thataccident, I might—in fact I think I would—have givenyou one further clue. And yet I do not know: the game in verytruth had begun to pall since Drummond died. You were only thepuppies that followed your master. He was the one Iwanted—not you. However, it was not to be, and because thefinish comes tonight I thought that Phyllis should have you withher as she cannot have her husband. As yet she does not know thatyou are here: she does not even know her husband is dead. Thatshe shall learn later—just before the end."

She paused, and I saw that Darrell was moistening his lipswith his tongue, and that Jerningham's face was white. There wassomething far more terrifying in this calm matter of fact voicethan if she had ranted and raved.

"This fourth man," she continued, "this bank clerk presented aconundrum. Believe me, sir," she turned to me, "I have no enmityagainst you. It is a sheer misfortune that you should be here,but since you are, you've got to stay."

"Please don't apologize," I said sarcastically. "Yourtreatment of your guest has left nothing to be desired."

But she seemed to have forgotten my existence: her realaudience consisted of the other three.

"The Friar's Heel," she remarked. "You solved that quickerthan I thought you would. And here you are. This gentleman hasdoubtless already told you that these stones form a model ofStonehenge. And you wonder why I should have taken so muchtrouble. I will tell you.

"Revenge is sweet, but to taste of its joys to the utmost, toextract from it the last drop of satisfaction, it must be ascarefully planned as any other entertainment. That is why Iregret so bitterly that it was Drummond himself who died at theMere. I like to think of him struggling in thatroom—struggling to breathe—and knowing all the timethat it was I who had done it. But I would far sooner have hadhim here; because he has escaped the supreme thing I planned forhim."

With one hand outstretched she stood facing the otherthree.

"He killed my man. You know it. You cannot deny it."

"If by that you mean he killed Carl Peterson, I do not denyit," said Darrell calmly. "And no man ever deserved death morerichly."

"Deserved death!" Her voice rose. "Who are you, you dogs, topronounce judgment on such a man?" With an effort she controlledherself. "However, we will not bandy words. He killed myman—even as I shall shortly kill his woman."

She fell silent for a while staring at the plaster cast, and Isaw Darrell's anxious eyes roving round the room. They met minefor a moment, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. It wasout now: there was no bluff about it. Death was in sight, and themanner of it seemed of but little account.Death—unless...

Feverishly I stared around. Death, unless Drummond intervened.I looked up at the roof, remembering the sailor of the nightbefore. But this time it was empty. And all the time the mancalled Paul stood watching the woman with sombre eyes.

"It has not been very easy, Darrell." She was speaking again."My servants have blundered. Mistakes have been made. But fromthe moment she fell into my hands the final issue has never beenin doubt. I might have had to forego this. I might even have hadto forego getting the lot of you. But her life has been forfeitsince that moment. I have played with her at times, letting herthink that she would be free if you found her, and she, stupidlittle fool, has believed me. Free!" She laughed. "There havebeen times when only the greatest restraint has prevented mekilling her with my own hands. And now I am glad, for I wouldlike you to see her die."

"Carissima," said the man called Paul, "is it wise to delay?All has gone so well up to now, and I fear something mayhappen."

"What can happen," she said calmly, "who can interrupt us? Thetime has passed when there was danger of surprise. Your police,Darrell, are stickers. And although I did not think you wouldenlist their aid, there was the little matter of the blood in theditch. I felicitated dear Phyllis on that. Paul tells me that shepractically killed him with one blow of that heavyspanner—naughty girl."

"For God's sake get on with it, woman," said Jerninghamharshly.

"The essence of satisfactory revenge, my friend," sheremarked, "is not to hurry. The night is yet young."

I closed my eyes. The powerful gleaming lights against theblack made me drowsy. It was a dream all this—it must be.In a few moments I should awake, and see my own familiarroom.

"What think you of the setting of my revenge?" From a greatdistance her voice came to me, and I forced myself back toreality again. "Stonehenge—in miniature.Theatrical—perhaps. But the story fascinates me. Andbecause in this year of grace the real place cannot be used itwas necessary to make a model." With brooding eyes she stared infront of her. "We will rehearse it once, Paul. I am in the mood.Turn out the lights."

"Carissima," he protested, "is it wise?"

"Turn out the lights," she said curtly, and with a mutteredoath he obeyed.

"I am in a strange mood tonight," Her voice—low andthrobbing—came to us out of the darkness. "It is true thatI have rehearsed it before, that I know exactly every effect. ButI would postpone it awhile. Besides it may be that you, who willwatch the real performance, can suggest something at therehearsal. Think well, you watchers: use your imagination, foronly thus will you appreciate my plan.

"Night. Darkness such as this. Around us on the grass amultitude who wait."

I sat up stiffly: was it imagination or had something passedclose to my chair?

"They wait in silence, whispering perhaps amongst themselvesof what is about to happen. They have seen it before—manytimes, but the mystery of what they are about to see and thewonder of it never palls.

"Darkness—and then in the east the faint light thatcomes before the dawn. Look!"

It was clever—damnably clever. How the lights had beenarranged to give the effect I cannot say, but at the end of theroom behind the Friar's Heel there came a faint luminosity. Itwas more a general lessening of the darkness than anything else,and one could just see the outlines of the stones against it.

"A murmur like a wave beating on the shore—then silenceonce again. A gentle breeze, faint scented with the smell ofcountry kisses their faces, and is gone, whilst all the time thedawn comes nearer: the tense expectancy increases."

I couldn't help it. I was fascinated in spite of myself. Myreason told me that all these elaborate preparations were nothingmore nor less than the preliminaries to cold-blooded murder. Andyet, theatrical though they might be, and were, they were alsoartistically impressive. I remember that I found myself thinkingwhat a marvellous stage effect it would be.

Gradually the light behind the Friar's Heel increased, andthen the woman began to sing. Her voice was small but true, andshe sang in a tongue I did not know. It was a wild barbaric thingthat sounded like one of those bizarre Magyar folk songs. And theeffect was incredible. I found myself sweating with sheerexcitement, all danger forgotten; and the others said after theyhad felt the same. The light grew brighter: her song wilder andmore triumphant. And then suddenly she ceased.

"It comes," she cried. "The god comes. And as the first raysfall on the slaughter stone, and the woman who lies there, thesacrifice is made."

Out of the lessening darkness came a rim of golden light. Itappeared behind the Friar's Heel, and gradually grew larger andlarger, even as the sun appears above the horizon, a yellow ballof electric light being raised slowly on a winding gear. So saidreason. But imagination saw the scene of countless centuriesago.

"The shadows shorten," she whispered. "Soon they will reachthe slaughter stone and pass it by. This time there is novictim—but next.... My God! What's that?"

Her voice rose to a sudden shrill cry, and for a while we allstared stupidly. For now the slaughter stone was bathed in light,and on its smooth surface was a gruesome object. One end was redwith dried up blood, and the other had a nail.

The man called Paul moved slowly towards it.

"It's a man's finger," he muttered, and his voice wasshaking.

"A man's finger," repeated the woman. "But how did it getthere? How did it get there?" she screamed. "How did it getthere, you fool?"

And Paul could give no answer.

"A man's finger," she said once more, and glancing at her Isaw that every drop of blood had drained from her face. "Where isGrant?"

"Grant," said Paul stupidly. "Why do you want Grant?"

"Drummond shot his finger off," she answered. "In the roombelow the Mere. Get him. Get him, you wretched fool, atonce."

"But will you be all right," he began, and again from behindme came a throaty chuckle. "Great Scott! the butterfly man."

I turned round. Sure enough there was Toby Sinclair, powerlessin the hands of the negro. The mystery of the finger wasexplained.

"Damn you!" he cried, "this is an outrage."

"Put him in a seat, Pedro," said the woman, and Toby wasforced into the chair next to mine.

"If it isn't Mr Seymour," he fumed angrily. "Are these peoplemad? Is this place a lunatic asylum?"

He subsided into angry mutterings, and I said nothing. For nowI was too excited to speak. It was evident that the game wasbeginning in grim earnest.

"Get Grant," said the woman, and Paul left the room.

She stood motionless leaning against the altar stone whilstthat damnable nigg*r shambled round the room and then disappearedagain. Toby Sinclair still continued to curse audibly, and theother three stared in front of them with eyes bright withanticipation. What was going to happen next? Once Sinclair stolea glance at me and winked, and I must confess that wink heartenedme considerably. Because even now I saw very little light in thedarkness.

The door opened, and Paul came in followed by the man with thedamaged hand.

"Grant," said the woman quietly, "is that your finger?"

He gave a violent start: then he picked it up with a tremblinghand. "It is," he muttered foolishly. "At least, I—I thinkit is. It must be."

"Do you recognize any of these men?" she went on.

"I recognize those three," he stammered, and Darrell noddedpleasantly.

"A little morning exercise by the waters of the Mere," heremarked.

"And what of the others?" she said.

He looked at Toby and me, and shook his head.

"I've seen them," he said. "At Amesbury. And I thought"—he looked sideways at Paul—"I thought. The boss,"he went on sullenly, "said that I was to say nothing aboutthem."

For a moment she stared at Paul with a look of suchconcentrated cold fury that I almost felt sorry for the man.After all, swine though he was, he did love her, and had onlyembarked on this affair for her sake. But what she was going tosay to him we shall never know, for at that moment there came adiversion.

The man with the damaged hand had suddenly come very close tome and was peering into my face. Then with a quick movement heseized my moustache and tore it off.

"God in Heavens!" he muttered, "it's one of them. One of thethree that were drowned."

A dead silence settled on the room, which was at last brokenby Toby. "What about Opsiphanes syme?" he burbled genially.

Another dead silence, broken this time by the woman. "SoDrummond is not dead," she said softly. "How veryinteresting."

"I seem to recall," drawled Jerningham pleasantly, "in thosedear days of long ago, that our lamented friend whose repulsivevisage adorns the altar had frequent necessity to remark the samething."

And then Paul spoke with sudden fear in his voice. "It's atrap. An obvious trap. He's probably got the police withhim."

"There wasn't a soul outside when I came in," said Grant."There hasn't been a thing past the gate since eighto'clock."

"Go out," said the woman, "and mount guard again.Paul—fetch Phyllis."

For a moment or two he seemed on the point of arguing withher: then he thought better of it and both of them left theroom.

"So you are Sinclair," she said, coming over to Toby.

"Quite right, sweet girl of mine," he answered. "And how havewe been keeping since our last merry meeting?"

"All of you except Drummond." She was talking half to herself."Helpless: at my mercy."

A triumphant smile was on her lips, and as it seemed to mewith justice. It exactly expressed the situation, and now thatthe momentary excitement of the finger episode had worn off Ibegan to feel gloomier than ever. It was all very well for theothers to be flippant, but unless they were completely blind toobvious realities it could only be due to bravado. We wereabsolutely in this woman's power, there was no other way oflooking at it. That their mood might be due to a blindunquestioning faith in Drummond's ability was also possible, butunless he came with four or five exceptionally powerful men tohelp him, this was going to be a case of the pitcher going to thewell once too often. For what none of them seemed to realize wasthe fact that this woman was careless of her own life. There laythe incredible danger. Discovery meant nothing to her providedher revenge had come first.

I came out of my reverie to find Darrell's eyes fixed on me."Learnt that tune yet, Dixon?" he said.

Toby Sinclair was humming the Froth Blower's Anthem, and Inodded. I was free now to give Drummond away, but what earthlygood it was going to be heaven alone knew.

"A new recruit, dear Irma," went on Darrell. "You will bepleased to know that it was he who solved most of yourclues."

She turned her strange brooding eyes on me. "How did you getout of the Mere," she asked curiously.

"A little substitution," I remarked. "The gentleman you leftbelow arrived too soon, and then I sat on the water handle bymistake."

"I am glad," she said. "The audience will now becomplete."

"Think so," said Jerningham mockingly. "One seat, and a ratherimportant one, still remains to be occupied."

"It is possible that it may remain unoccupied," she saidenigmatically. "Good evening, Phyllis. Your husband's friendshave all arrived, as you see."

Mrs Drummond stared round with a wan little smile. "Hullo!chaps," she said. "Where's Hugh?"

"The Lord knows, Phyllis," answered Darrell. "We don't."

"He will come," said Mrs Drummond calmly. "Don't worry."

"You think so," answered Irma. "Good. And anyway why shouldyou worry. Whether he comes, or whether he doesn't, the result asfar as you are concerned will be the same. In fact I am not surethat my revenge would not be all the sweeter if he didn'tcome—until too late." Once more she was leaning against thealtar stone, with one hand resting on the bust of Carl Peterson."Imagine his feelings for the rest of his life if he arrived tofind you all dead, knowing that at last he had failed you."

"May I remind you once again of the number of times we haveheard remarks of a similar nature from your latelamented—er—husband—" said Jerningham with ayawn.

"And may I remind you," she answered, "of my original littleverse to Drummond concerning the Female of the Species. I shallwait a little, and then we will proceed. Should he come in theinterval I shall be delighted for him to participate in ourlittle ceremony. Should he fail to appear he will not. He willmerely find the results. And should he be so injudicious as notto come alone he will encounter two locked doors, doors whichwill take even him some time to knock down. He will hear youscreaming for help inside here—and then—"

Her voice rose: her breast heaved: she was tasting of hertriumph in advance.

"Bonzo's meat cubes are highly recommended for preserving aplacid disposition," said Algy brightly. "You'll split a staylace, my angel woman, unless you're careful."

"Why do we delay, dear one?" said Paul anxiously. "Let us bedone with it now, and leave him to find what he will find."

But she shook her head. "No: we will give him half an hour.And if he is not here by then..."

I thought furiously: every moment gained might be anadvantage. "How is he to know anything about it," I said. "If heis where I last saw him, he is in Amesbury. And it will take morethan half an hour get a messenger to him and for him to reachhere."

She looked at me thoughtfully. "Is he also disguised like youand Sinclair?"

"He is," I said shortly. "He has a large black beard...."

"You fool," howled Sinclair. "You damned treacherous fool. MyGod! We're done."

I stared at him stupidly, and a sudden deadly sick feelingcame over me. "But," I stammered, "I thought..."

I looked across helplessly at Darrell. What had I said? Surelythe message was clear, to say who he was after I heard the anthemonce.

"I could kill you where you sit, you cur," went on Sinclairidly, "if only I had my hands free."

"You seem to have said the wrong thing, Mr Dixon," said Irmapleasantly. "So dear Hugh is disguised in a large black beard, ishe? I don't think I should like Hugh in a black beard. Well,well! I wonder what little amusem*nt he has in store for us. Wewill certainly wait, Paul, until he arrives. I couldn't bear tomiss him in a black beard."

"He had a scheme," said Sinclair furiously to the other three."An absolute winner. But everything depended on his disguise. Youfool, Dixon: you fool."

"Shut up, Toby," said Mrs Drummond peremptorily. "I'm sure MrDixon didn't mean to do any harm, and anyway—" she turnedto me—"thank you a hundred times for all you've beenthrough on my behalf."

I looked at her gratefully, though I was too much upset tospeak. I simply couldn't understand the thing. Evidently Drummondhad altered his plans since he'd sent the message throughDarrell. But if so—and he didn't want me to comply with hisfirst instructions—why hadn't he sent countermanding ordersthrough Sinclair? And after a while I began to feel angry: theman was a damned fool. From beginning to end he had bungled everysingle thing. It was I who had borne the burden and heat of thewhole show. And what possible hope had he got of deceivinganybody with that absurd false beard?

"And have you any idea if our friend is coming soon?" pursuedIrma sweetly. "Or shall we send a note to Amesbury, addressed toMr Blackbeard?"

"You needn't worry," said Sinclair sullenly. "He's coming allright."

He glowered vindictively at me, and I glowered back at him. Iwas absolutely fed up—so fed up that I almost forgot whatwas in store for us. Of all the bungling, incompetent set offools that I had ever known this much vaunted gang won in acanter. And their so-called leader was the worst of the lot.

My mind went back to Bill Tracey's remarks about him and theextraordinary things he had done. I'd tell Bill the truth when Inext saw him. I'd put him wise. And then my stomach gave a sickheave: I should never see Bill again. The sweat poured down me.My anger had gone—reality had returned. In a short whilethis astounding farce would be over, and I should be dead.

The room swam before me. I could only see the faces of theothers through a mist. Dead! We should all be dead. By amonstrous effort I bit back a wild desire to shout and rave. Thatwould be the unforgivable sin in front of this crowd. They mightlack brains, but they didn't lack courage. I pulled myselftogether and stared at them. Boredom was the only emotion theydisplayed—boredom and contempt. This foul woman could killthem all right: she could never make them whimper. "I'm damnedsorry," I said suddenly. "But for God's sake don't think it wastreachery."

For a moment no one spoke. Then—"Sorry I said that,"said Toby gruffly. "Withdraw it and all that sort of rot."

Silence fell again: the only movement was Paul's restlessfidgeting. The woman still leaned gracefully against the altarstone. Mrs Drummond sat motionless, staring at the door.

"He will probably be coming soon, Paul," said Irma suddenly."And it would be better not to give him any warning. Gagthem."

"What about the girl?" he said.

"Gag her as well, and put her in the vacant chair for atime."

"Don't touch me you foul swine," said Mrs Drummond coldly. "Iwill go there."

"And then when dear Hugh comes," said Irma, "he shall takeyour place, Phyllis. Whilst you will be placed elsewhere."

She clenched her hands, and for a moment the feverish glitterreturned to her eyes. Then she grew calm again.

"Now turn out all the lights except the one at the end."

And so for perhaps ten minutes we sat there waiting. Once Iheard Pedro's throaty chuckle that seemed to come from thepassage leading to the garage: and once I thought I heard thesound of a car on the road outside. Otherwise the silence wasabsolute.

Through the open skylight I could see the stars, and I beganwondering what had become of the sailor. Somewhere about thehouse I supposed: one of the infamous gang. And then I started towonder how Drummond would come.

Should I suddenly see his bearded face peering through atus— covering the woman with a revolver? But the stars stillshone undimmed by any shadow, and after a while my brain refusedto act. My arm was throbbing abominably. My thoughts began towander.

I was back in my club, and the woman Irma was the WineSteward. It was absurd that I couldn't get a drink before eleveno'clock in the morning in my own club. A fatuous wartimeregulation that should be repealed. I'd write to my MP about it.Everybody ought to write to their MP about it. Here was thatdoddering ass old Axminster coming in. Thought he owned the placebecause he was a peer.... What was he saying? Ilistened—and suddenly my thoughts ceased to wander.

It wasn't Axminster: it was the man with the damaged hand. "Abig bloke with a black beard is dodging through the bushestowards the house," he said. "What are we to do?"

The woman stretched out her arms ecstatically. "Let him come,"she cried triumphantly. "Pedro." Came another throaty chucklefrom behind me. "Come into the room after him, Pedro. Don't lethim see you. Then I leave him to you. But don't kill him."

XVII. — IN WHICH THECURTAIN RINGS DOWN

As long as I live I shall never forget thetension of the next few minutes. The light was so dim that thefaces of the others were only blurs. Paul had joined the woman,and they were standing side by side against the altar stone. Thedoor in the hall was ajar, and the hall itself was in darkness sothat it was impossible to see anything distinctly.

"He had a scheme: an absolute winner."

Sinclair's words came back to me, and I wondered what it was.Had I really done the whole lot of us in by my indiscretion? Butat last the period of waiting was over. Drummond's voice could beheard in the hall.

"Very little light in this house."

The woman by the altar stiffened. "His voice," she saidexultingly. "Drummond at last."

And then, or was it my imagination, there seemed to come afunny sort of hissing noise from the hall. Had the negro got himalready? But no, he was speaking again. "I am a police inspector,and I wish to see the lady of the house on a very importantmatter."

In the dim light I could just see Darrell's expression ofblank amazement, and I sympathized with him. Was this thebrilliant scheme? If so, was a more utterly fatuous one everthought of. Why, his voice gave him away.

"A very serious matter. I may say that I have two plainclothes men outside. What is that door at the end there? Don'tattempt to detain me. Oh! I see—you're leading the way, areyou."

The door opened, and there stood Drummond. I could just seehis black beard, but it wasn't at him that I looked for long. Hetook a couple of steps into the room, and like a shadow the negroslipped in—dodging behind the curtain. I heard hoarsegurgling noises coming from the others as they strove to warnhim, but Paul had done his work too well.

With a swift movement he stepped back and shut the door, sothat Pedro was not more than a yard from him.

"Good evening. Inspector. Your voice is very familiar."

"A little ruse, my poppet," said Drummond pleasantly, "forgetting into the august presence. May I say that I have arevolver in my hand, in case you can't see it in this light? Andwill you and your gentleman friend put your hands up. I've dealtwith one of your myrmidons outside in the hall, and my temper isa bit ragged."

With a faint smile the woman raised her hands, and Paulfollowed suit.

"How are you, mon ami," she said. "We only required you tocomplete the family circle. In fact I was desolated when Ithought you'd succumbed at the Mere."

I worked madly at the handkerchief with my jaws. Why didn't hecome further into the room? At any second the negro might springon him.

"And what is this ridiculous entertainment?" he asked.

"Specially staged for you, Hugh," she answered.

"I'm sorry you've wasted your time," he said shortly. "A truceto this fooling. I've had enough of it. You and the swine withyou are for it now."

"Are we?" she mocked.

"Yes—you are. Come here, you swab. I don't know yourname, and I don't want to, but hump yourself."

"And if I refuse," said Paul easily.

"I'll plug you where you stand," answered Drummond. "I don'tknow how my wife and friends are secured, but set them free. Andno monkey tricks."

And then, with a superhuman effort, I got the handkerchiefhalf off my mouth.

"Look out behind," I croaked, and even as I spoke the gleamingwhite teeth of the negro showed over his shoulder. That was all Icould see at that distance, but I could hear.

There came a startled grunt from Drummond, that foul throatychuckle from the black man, and the fight commenced. And what afight it was in the semi-darkness. I forgot our own peril, forgotwhat depended on the issue in the thrill of the issue itself.Dimly I could see them swaying to and fro, each man puttingforward every atom of strength he possessed, whilst Irma swayedbackwards and forwards in her excitement, and the man Paul wenttowards the struggling pair in case he was wanted.

"Leave them, Paul," she cried tensely. "Let Drummond have hislast fight."

And then Darrell got his gag free. "Go it, Hugh; go it, oldman," he shouted.

I heard someone croaking hoarse sounds of encouragement andsuddenly realized it was myself. And then gradually the soundsceased, and my mouth got strangely dry. For Drummond waslosing.

From a great distance I heard Darrell muttering "My God!" overand over again to himself, and from somewhere else came pitifullittle muffled cries as Mrs Drummond realized the ghastly truth.Her husband was losing.

It was impossible to see the details, but of the main broadfact there was no doubt. At long last, Drummond had met hismatch. The nigg*r's chuckles were ceaseless and triumphant,though Drummond fought mute. But slowly and inexorably he wasbeing worn down. And then step by step the black man forced himtowards the chair where his wife was sitting.

"Take Phyllis out, Paul," cried Irma suddenly. "Take herout."

Foot by foot, faster and faster the pair swayed towards theempty seat. Drummond was weakening obviously, and suddenly with agroan he gave in and crumpled. And then in a couple of seconds itwas over. He was flung into the chair, and with a click the steelbars closed over his wrists. He was a prisoner, the family circlewas complete.

With a heart broken little cry his wife, who had torn off hergag, flung her arms around him and kissed him.

"Darling boy," she cried in an agony. Then abruptly shestraightened up and stood facing her enemy. And if her voice whenshe spoke was not quite steady, who could be surprised?

"You foul devil," she said. "Get it over quickly."

And Pedro's evil chuckle was the only answer. I glanced atIrma, and for the time she was beyond speech. Never have I seensuch utter and complete triumph expressed on any human being'sface. She was in an ecstasy. Standing in front of the bust ofPeterson, she was crooning to it in a sort of frenzy. The madnesswas on her again.

"My love, my King: he has been beaten. Do you realize it, myadored one? Drummond has been beaten. You are here, my Carl: yourspirit is here. Do you see him—the man who killedyou—powerless in my hands?"

Gradually she grew calmer, and at length Paul spoke.

"There is no reason for more delay now, Carissima," he saidurgently. "Let us finish."

She stared at him broodingly. "Finish—yes. All will befinished soon, Paul. But for a few minutes I will enjoy mytriumph. Then we will stage our play."

She looked at each of us in turn—a look of mingledtriumph and contempt. "Ungag them, Paul, and Pedro—youattend to the white woman should she give trouble."

She waited till Paul had obeyed her, gloating over us, and thefull realization of our position came sweeping over me. Greatthough the odds against him had been, some vestige of hope hadremained while Drummond was still free. Now our last chance hadgone: we were finished—outwitted by this woman. And thoughnothing could have been more utterly futile and fatuous thanDrummond's behaviour, I felt terribly sorry for him.

Still breathing heavily after his fight, he sat there with hischin sunk on his chest looking the picture of despondency. And Irealized what he must be going through. Beaten, and knowing thatthe result of that beating meant death to us all and to his wife.And yet—angry irritation surged up in me again—how onearth could he have expected anything else? If ever a man hadasked for trouble he had. Now he'd got it, and so had we.

All the fight seemed to have gone out of him: he was broken.And when I looked at the others they seemed brokentoo—stunned with the incredible thing that had happened.That Drummond, the invincible, should have met his match atlast—should be sitting there as a helplessprisoner—had shattered them. It was as if the Bank ofEngland had suddenly become insolvent. And it was like PeterDarrell to try and comfort him.

"Cheer up, old son," he said lightly. "If that nigg*r hadn'tcaught you unawares from behind, you'd have done him." AndDrummond's only reply was a groan of despair, whilst his wifestroked his hair with her hand, and Pedro, like a great blackshadow, hovered behind her.

"Possibly," answered Irma. "That 'if' should be a greatcomfort to you all during the next half hour."

"All is ready," said Paul. "Let us start."

"Yes, we will start. But, as this is our last meeting, arethere any little points you would like cleared up or explained?You, my dear Drummond, seem strangely silent. It's notsurprising, I admit; complete defeat is always unpleasant. But,honestly, I can't congratulate you on your handling of the show.You haven't been very clever, have you? In fact, you've beenthoroughly disappointing. I had hoped at any rate, for somesemblance of the old form, certainly at the end, but instead ofthat you have given no sport at all. And now—it isover."

She fell silent, that strange brooding look on her face, untilat length Paul went up to her. "For Heaven's sake, Carissima," hesaid urgently, "do not let us delay any longer. I tell you I feara trap."

"Why do you fear a trap?" she demanded.

"They have come into our power too easily," he said doggedly."They have walked in with their eyes open, it seems to me."

"All that matters is that they have walked in," she answered."And now, whatever happens, they will never walk out again. Doyou hear that, Drummond, I said—whatever happens."

He made no answer until the negro, with a snarl of rage,thrust his evil face close to him.

"I hear," he said sullenly.

"It matters not," she cried triumphantly, "if a cordon ofpolice surround the house; it matters not if they batter at thedoors—they will be too late. Too late!" She breathed thewords deliriously; the madness was coming on her again.

"But," stammered Paul, "how shall we get away?"

She waved him from her imperiously. "Be silent; you bore me,"Once more she turned to the plaster cast. "Do you realize, myCarl, what has happened? They are all here—all of them.Drummond and his wife are here; the others are here waiting toexpiate their crime. Their lives for yours, my King; I havearranged that. Is it your will that I delay no longer?" Shestared at the bust as if seeking an answer, and somebody—Ithink it was Algy—gave a short, high-pitched laugh. Nerveswere beginning to crack; only Mrs Drummond still stood cool anddisdainful, stroking her husband's hair.

Suddenly the wild futility of the whole thing came home to me,so that I writhed and tugged and cursed. Seven of us were goingto be killed at the whim of a mad woman! Murdered in cold blood!God! it was impossible— inconceivable.... Why didn'tsomebody do something? What fools they were—what utterfools!

I raved at them incoherently, and told them what I thought oftheir brains, their mentality, and the complete absence ofjustification for their existence at all.

"I told you she meant to kill us," I shouted, "and you fivedamned idiots come walking into the most obvious trap that hasever been laid."

"Shut that man's mouth," said Irma quietly, and for the secondtime Pedro's huge black hand crept round my throat, squeezing,throttling, so that, half choked, I fell silent. After all, whatwas the use? Mad she might be and undoubtedly was, but as she hadsaid to Drummond, we were finished, whatever happened. And it wasmore dignified to face it in silence.

"We will begin," she said suddenly. "Paul, get Phyllis."

With a little cry, Mrs Drummond flung her arms round herhusband's neck. "Goodbye, my darling," she cried, kissing himagain and again. But he was beyond speech, and at length thenegro seized her and dragged her away.

"Let me go, you foul brute," she said furiously, and Paul, whowas standing by the stone of sacrifice, beckoned to her to come.Proudly, without faltering, she walked towards him.

"Lie down," he said curtly.

"Get it accurate, Paul," cried Irma anxiously. "Be certainthat it is accurate."

"I will be certain," he answered.

And then for the first time I realized that there were ropesmade fast to rings in the stone. She was going to be lashed down.She didn't struggle even when Pedro, chuckling in his excitement,helped to make her fast. And on her face was an expression ofsuch unutterable contempt that it seemed to infuriate the otherwoman. "You may sneer, my dear Phyllis," she stormed. "But lookabove you, you little fool; look above you."

With one accord we all looked up, and at the same moment asmall light was turned on in the ceiling. And when he had seenwhat it illuminated Ted Jerningham began to shout and bellow likea madman. "Stop it, you devil," he roared. "Let one of us gothere instead other. My God! Hugh. Do you see?"

But Drummond was still silent, and after a while Jerninghamrelapsed into silence too. And as for me, I was conscious only ofa deadly feeling of nausea. Hanging from a rafter was a huge,pointed knife. It was of an uncommon Oriental design, and itlooked the most deadly weapon.

"Yes, Hugh—do you see?" cried Irma mockingly. "Do yousee what it is that hangs directly above your wife's heart? Ithas been tested, not once, but many times, and when I release thespring it will fall, Hugh. And it will fall straight." And stillDrummond sat silent and cowed. "But I shall not release it yet:that I promise you. There is a little ceremony to be gone throughbefore our finale. The rest of them have seen it, Drummond, butto you as my principal guest it will come as a surprise. Andafter it is over, and the knife that you see up there is buriedin Phyllis's heart, your turn will come."

She was rocking to and fro in her mad excitement.

"Paul has arranged it," she cried exultingly. "Clever Paul.Behind each one of you is enough explosive to shatter you topieces. But Paul has so arranged it that even as Phyllis waitsand waits for death to come—so will you all wait. You willsee it creeping closer and closer, and be powerless to doanything to save yourselves. I shall light the fuse, and you willsee the flame burning slowly towards this little box. And when itreaches that box—suddenly, with the speed of light, theflame will dart to the gun-cotton behind your backs. For the fusethat connects the gun-cotton to the box is of a different brandto the one I shall light. Paul knows all these things: Paul isclever."

And now the madness was on her in earnest. She walked to andfro in front of the altar stone, her arms outstretched,worshipping the plaster cast of Peterson. "Is my revenge worthy,my King?" she cried again and again. "Does it meet with yourapproval? First she shall be killed before their eyes, and thenthey will wait for their own death. They will see it comingcloser every second, until, at last..."

"Great Heavens! man," shouted Darrell to Paul, "you can't lether go on. The woman is mad."

But he took no notice. His eyes were fixed on the woman whohad now become silent. She seemed to be listening to a voice wecould not hear, and something told me that we were very near theend. "Put out the lights, Paul," she said gravely.

I took one last look round the room; at Mrs Drummond, lyingbound, with the black man gloating over her; at Irma, standingtriumphant by the altar stone; and finally at Drummond. Even nowI could hardly believe that it was the finish, and that he hadnothing up his sleeve. But there he still sat with his head sunkon his breast, the personification of desolate defeat. And thenthe lights went out.

Once again we were plunged in darkness that could be felt, butthis time it was not a rehearsal. In a few minutes that knifewould fall from the ceiling, and the poor girl would be dead. Andwe should see it actually happen. The sweat poured off me instreams as the full horror of it came home. I scarcely thought ofwhat was going to be the fate of the rest of us afterwards. To belying there bound, knowing that at any moment the knife mightfall, was enough to send her crazy. More merciful if it did.

"A model of Stonehenge, Drummond. You have realized that?"

At last he seemed to have recovered the use of his tongue."Yes, I have realized that." His voice was perfectly steady, andI wondered if even now he realized what was coming.

"And the stone on which Phyllis lies is the stone ofsacrifice. Do you think she is a worthy offering?"

"Do you really mean to do this monstrous thing, IrmaPeterson?" he asked.

"Should I have gone to all this trouble," she mocked, "if Ididn't?"

"And yet, when on one occasion you asked me, I spared Carl'slife. Do you remember?"

"Only to kill him later," she cried fiercely. "Go on,Drummond: beg for her life. I'd like to hear you whining."

"You won't do that," he answered. "If I ask you to spare herit is for a different reason altogether. It is to show that youhave left in you some shred of humanity."

"As far as you are concerned I have none," she said. "As Isay, should I have done all this for nothing? Listen,Drummond.

"It was in Egypt, as I told you in my first letter, that theidea came to me. By the irony of fate, it was suggested to me bya man who knows you well, Drummond. You and dear Phyllis had beenstaying at the same house with him, and he was so interested tofind out that I also knew you. He told me about this splendidgame of hidden treasure, and it appeared that you had won. Iasked him the rules, and he said they were exceedingly simple.Everything depended on having good clues. I trust that mine havebeen up to standard."

She paused, and no one spoke.

"From the game, as you played it then, to the game as you haveplayed it now, was but a short step. Preparation was necessary,it is true; but the main idea was the same. I would give you ahidden-treasure hunt, where the prize was not a box ofcigarettes, but something a little more valuable. And I wouldleave you to think "—her voice rose suddenly—"youpoor fool, that if you succeeded you would get the prize."

She laughed, and it had an ugly sound.

"However, of that later. Having made my preparations, the nextthing was to obtain the prize. That proved easier than Iexpected. Twice, but for one of those little accidents which noone could foresee, Phyllis would have got into a special taxi inLondon—a taxi prepared by me. But I could afford to wait.For weeks you were watched, Drummond—and then you went toPangbourne where you began to realize that I was after you. Andthen came the opportunity. A hastily scrawled note in yourhandwriting—Paul is an adept at that, and I had severalspecimens of your writing—and the thing was done.

"'Bring the Bentley at once to Tidmarsh, old girl. A mostamazing thing has happened.—H.' Do you remember the note,Phyllis? I don't blame you for falling into the trap: it saidneither too much nor too little, that note. And so I got theprize at a trifling cost. It was naughty of you to hit him sohard, my dear, as I've told you before. Paul said it was apositively wicked blow."

Once again that mocking laugh rang through the room, but Ihardly heard it. With every sense alert, I was listening toanother sound—the sound of heavy breathing near me.Something was happening close by—but what? Then came agroan, and silence. "What was that? Who groaned?" Her words camesharp and insistent.

"Who, indeed?" answered Drummond's voice. "Why don't youcontinue, Irma Peterson? We are waiting for the theatricaldisplay."

"Pedro! Pedro! Is Drummond still in his chair?" Came that samethroaty chuckle, followed by Drummond's voice again: "Take yourhands off me, you foul swab."

"It is well," she said, and there was relief in her voice. "Ishould not like a mistake to occur now. And, with you,Drummond—one never knows."

"True," said he, "one never knows. Even now, Irma—thereis time for you to change your mind. I warn you that it will bebetter for you if you do."

"Thank you a thousand times," she sneered. "Instead, however,of following your advice, we will begin. The sacrifice is ready;we have delayed enough." Once more I became conscious of movementnear me, and my pulses began to tingle. "Just for the fraction ofa second, Drummond, will you again see Phyllis alive: then theknife will fall."

The faint light was beginning behind the Friar's Heel, in acouple of minutes it would be all over. Unless... unless... Myheart was pounding; my tongue was dry. Was it the end, or werestrange things taking place?

"The dawn," she cried. "You see the dawn, Drummond. Soon thesun will rise, the rays will creep nearer and nearer to Phyllis.And then... See... the rim is already there. It is coming,Drummond, coming. Have you any last message, you poor damnedfool, for her? If so speak now for my hand is on the lever of theknife."

"Just one," said Drummond lightly, and to my amazement hisvoice did not come from the chair in which he was imprisoned."Every beard is not false, but every nigg*r smells. That beardain't false, dearie, and dis nigg*r don't smell. So I'm thinkingthere's something wrong somewhere."

There was a moment's dead silence, then she gave a littlechoking gasp. Came a streak of light as the knife shot down, acrash, and on the stone of sacrifice lay the bust of CarlPeterson, shattered in a hundred pieces. For a while I couldn'tgrasp it. I stared stupidly at the woman who was cowering backagainst the altar stone; at the crumpled figure of Paul lying onthe ground close by me. And then I looked at the nigg*r, and hewas grinning broadly.

"So it ain't poor dear Drummond in dat chair," he chuckled."That is my very good friend John Perkins, and when you thoughtJohn was talking, it was really dis nigg*r what spoke, so you seeyou weren't quite as clever as you thought, my poppet."

Suddenly she began to scream hysterically, and Drummond racedround the chairs setting us free.

"Guard Phyllis," he shouted, as the door opened and Charlesfollowed by the chauffeur came rushing in. It lasted about fiveseconds—the scrap—but that five seconds was enough.For when it was over and we looked round for Irma she had gone.Whether there was some secret door which we didn't discover, orwhether she fled through the passage into the garage we shallnever know. But from that day to this there has been no traceseen of her. And I don't even know the ultimate fate of thevarious men of the house party. Having caught the lot, includingCharles, we put them in our chairs. And then Drummond lit thefuse and we left them bellowing for mercy.

"Let 'em sweat for ten minutes," he remarked. "I'vedisconnected at the junction box, but they don't know that Ihave. Now then, boys, once again—and alltogether—Froth Blowers for ever."

We stood in the road and we yelled at the tops of our voices.And it was only when we'd finished that I suddenly remembered thesailor.

"That's all right, old boy," laughed Drummond. "Beenretrieving any more bad plums out of waste paper basketslately?"

And so the game ended, and I know that that night I was tootired even to think about the strangeness of it, much less ask.It wasn't till lunch next day that Drummond cleared up the looseends. I can see him now, lolling at the end of the table with alazy grin on his face, and a tankard of beer beside him.

"You'll probably curse my neck off, chaps," he said, "forkeeping you in the dark, but honestly, it seemed the only way. Itwas touch and go, mark you—especially for Phyllis, and thatwas where the difficulty came in!"

"For the Lord's sake start at the beginning," saidDarrell.

"In the first place, I wasn't too sure that they really didthink we'd been killed at the Mere. And so it became absolutelyvital that I should not be caught. But how to arrange it, and atthe same time lull her suspicions, and make her think she'd gotme, was the problem. Obviously by providing myself with a double,which is where dear old John came in. He acts for the movies, andhe'd grown that awful fungus for a part he has to play shortly.When it is removed, however, he really does look rather like me;moreover he's the same build. So off we set—me as a sailor,him as me—without the smell of an idea as to what we weregoing to slosh into down here.

"Then came an amazing piece of luck. We motoreddown—John and I—and we passed the house of lastnight. There was of course nothing suspicious aboutit—nothing to mark it as the spot we wanted. Except onething, and therein lay the luck. As we went past the driveanother car coming towards us slowed up, evidently with theintention of turning in. And sitting beside the driver in thefront seat was the gent called Paul. That settled it."

"Why?" I asked.

"You couldn't be expected to know," he answered, "but I shouldhave thought old Toby's grey matter would have heaved to it,especially as he spotted the astounding likeness to the latelamented Lakington. Don't you remember the message Phyllisscrawled with her finger, in the blood at the back of her seat?LIKE LAK. It couldn't mean anything else, unless it was the mostastounding coincidence. So we were a bit on the way, but not far.We'd found a house connected with them, but whether Phyllis wasinside or not I hadn't an idea. However, being a bit of an adeptat exploring houses at night, I intended to do so until you twobung-faced swabs went and made fools of yourselves at Stonehengethat afternoon."

"Never," he grinned cheerfully, "in the course of a long andearnest career have I heard two people give themselves away soutterly and so often as Toby and Dixon did that afternoon. It wasstaggering, it was monumental. And the man they deliberatelyselected to be the recipient of their maidenly confidence wasPaul himself. Beer—more beer—much more beer."

"Damn it, Hugh," cried Sinclair.

"My dear lad," Drummond silenced him with a wave of his hand,"you were the finest example of congenital idiocy it has everbeen my misfortune to witness. The stones of Stonehenge arelittle pebbles compared to the bricks you dropped, but I forgiveyou. I even forgive jolly old Dixon's scavenging propensities inwaste paper baskets. Such is my nature—beautiful, earnestand pure. But you assuredly caused me a lot of trouble: I had tochange my plans completely.

"Paul obviously suspected you. No man out of a lunatic asylumcould possibly avoid doing so. And as I had no possible means ofknowing that all he wanted to do was to get on with the job, Ihad to assume that he would pass on his suspicions to Irma, andproceed to rope the pair of you in. Time had become an urgentfactor. So I wired Algy, and when he arrived, I told him byletter what to do. He was to announce loudly that he proposed togo to the Friar's Heel by night, but as he valued his life, hewasn't to do anything of the sort."

He leaned back in his chair, and looked at me with twinklingeyes. "You may be a damned idiot, Joe," he said, "but I lookstowards you and I raise my glass. Had it remotely dawned on methat you were going there yourself, I'd have given you the samewarning. But it didn't."

"You knew I was there?" I stammered.

"Laddie," he remarked, "hast ever listened to a vast herd ofelephants crashing their way through primeval forest? Hast everheard the scaly rhinoceros and young gambolling playfully on ashingly shore whilst they assuage their thirst? Thus and more so,was your progress that night. Like a tank with open exhaust youcame into action. Like a battalion of panting men you lay about,in the most obvious places you could find, and breathed hard. Youwere, and I say it advisedly, the most conspicuous object in thewhole of Wiltshire."

He frowned suddenly.

"You know what we found there, the others don't. Some poordevil who looked like a clerk—stone dead. What he was doingthere we shall never know, but it was perfectly obvious that hehad been mistaken for Algy. The nigg*r had blundered, and it wasa blunder which might prove awkward. You heard them talking,Joe—Paul and Irma: but it didn't require that confirmationto see how the land lay. All along I had realized that Phyllisand I were the principal quarry. If she got you so much thebetter, but we came first. And what I was so terribly frightenedof, as soon as I saw that body, was that Irma would get nervous,and believing I was already dead, would go back, finish offPhyllis straight away, and then clear out. I still had nodefinite scheme; I didn't even have a definite scheme after I'dfunctioned with the nigg*r. In fact I didn't really intend tofight him at all.

"I suppose he must have smelt me or something, at any rate hecame for me. And by the Lord Harry, it was touch and go. However"—he shrugged his shoulders—"I pasted him good andhearty in the mazzard, and that was that. In fact he is in anawkward predicament that nigg*r. I dragged him into one of thosedisused sheds, and handcuffed him to a steel girder. Then I puthis victim beside him. And he will find explanations a littledifficult.

"The trouble was that all this had delayed me. I hadn't got acar, only a bicycle—and that house had to be explored atonce. My hat! laddie," he said to me, "I didn't expect to findyou as part of the furniture. How on earth did you getthere?"

"On the luggage grid of their car," I said.

"The devil you did," he grinned. "The devil you did!Joe—you are a worthy recruit, though when I saw you throughthe skylight I consigned you to the deepest pit of hell. But,thank Heavens! you didn't give away the fact that you'd seenme."

"I thought you were one of them," I said.

"I know you did, old boy," he laughed, "What we'd have donewithout your thoughts during this show I don't know. They haveall been so inconceivably wide of the mark that they've beeninvaluable."

"Don't pay any attention to him, Mr Dixon," said his wife.

"My darling," he protested, "I mean it. Joe has beeninvaluable. The air of complete certainty with which heproclaimed the exact opposite to the truth has saved thesituation. I've been able to bank on it. And once I realized whatthat foul female intended to do I wanted every bit of assistanceI could get.

"The first alternative was to try and get you out of the housesingle-handed, but I dismissed that as impossible. I didn't knowyour room, the house was stiff with men, and—most importantof all—that woman would have shot on sight.

"The second alternative was to get all the bunch into thehouse without arousing her suspicions. And when I heard herreading the letter she was sending Algy I realized we weregetting on. John and Toby could be brought in at a suitable time,and there only remained the problem of what I was going to do. Iconfess I didn't think of it. John suggested the nigg*r. It was arisk, but it proved easier than I thought."

"Damn it, Hugh," cried Darrell, "why didn't you say who youwere in the afternoon? You were alone with us, and if you'd setus free then we could have tackled the whole bunch."

"Because, Peter," said Drummond gravely, "it would have takenus some minutes to tackle them. It would have taken Irma half asecond to kill Phyllis."

"At any rate," said Jerningham, "you might have let us know.Jove! old boy, I never want to go through twenty minutes likethat again."

"I know, chaps—and I'm sorry. I'd have spared you thatif I'd thought it safe. But then you would all of you have beenacting, and I wanted the real thing. I knew that Dixon thoughtJohn was me, and would tell you so, too. And I wanted you all tocarry on as if you thought so. The rest you know. It was easy forme to talk every time instead of John, with the room in semi-darkness as it was. And I think you'll admit we staged a damnedgood fight."

"When did you spot it, Phyllis?" said Darrell.

"When I kissed John," she laughed.

"And very nice too," grinned that worthy. "Unrehearsed effectsare always best."

Drummond rose and stretched himself.

"All over, chaps, all over. Back to the dreary round.Algernon," he hailed a passing waiter, "bring, my stoutheartedfellow, eight of those pale pink concoctions that the sweet thingin the bar fondly imagines are Martinis. I would fain propose atoast. But first—a small formality. Mr Joseph Dixon willplace his hand in his pocket and extract there from coins to thevalue of five shillings. I will then present him here and nowwith the insignia of the Ancient Order, feeling that he has wellmerited that high honour. Our anthem he knows; he has alreadysung it twice in his cracked falsetto. The privileges attendantto our Order you will find enumerated in this small book, MrDixon, and they should be studied in the solitude of your chamberwhen alone with your thoughts. Especially our great insurancetreble which guards your dog from rabies, your cook from babies,and yourself from scabies. Great words, my masters, great words,I perceive that Algernon, panting and exhausted after his ten-yard walk, is with us again, carrying the raspberry juice withall his well-known flair. Lady and Gentlemen—to our newFroth Blower. And may I inquire which of you bat-faced sons ofBelial has pinched the five bob?"

THE END

Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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