THE RED LODGE (continued 5)

His flight seemed to act on the deserted Hudson like the breaking of a spell. A foul oath burst from his lips, and, grabbing one of the overturned chairs by its nearest leg, he hurled it with all his force straight in the face of Colin.

The latter, who saw it coming, jerked up his arm just in time. It struck against his elbow and crashed down on to the floor, tripping up Joe as he attempted to dodge past in pursuit of the fugitive.

Staggered himself by the blow, Colin recovered almost instantly. One stride brought him within reach of his assailant, and, ducking under a clumsy swing, he smashed home a terrific right flush on the point of the jaw. It was a punch that would have floored ninety-nine men out of a hundred, and Mr. Jake Hudson was one of the unfortunate majority. He went down as though struck by a coal hammer, the back of his head landing with a loud thud against the edge of the table.

Brief though the delay had been, it had enabled "Spike" Cooper to achieve his object. He was through the door and had slammed and locked it behind him before the Inspector and Joe were able to gain their feet. It was Colin, indeed, who was the first to reach it, and he was already wrenching vainly at the handle when the two others rushed up to his assistance.

"Wait a minute," rasped the Inspector, who was evidently not in the best of tempers. "Let me blow in the lock, then we shall have a better chance."

Levelling his pistol, he emptied a couple of shots into the keyhole, the powerful bullets smashing and splintering the woodwork in every direction. As the second report died away they heard a scurry of footsteps outside, followed almost immediately by the unmistakable bang of another door.

Pocketing his pistol, the Inspector gripped hold of the knob with both hands, and, as he jerked it violently toward him, the shattered bolt snapped and yielded. One more pull, and they stumbled over the threshold into a dimly lighted hall, where, framed in a doorway opposite, stood, or rather swayed, the slender figure of a girl.

A low cry escaped Colin's lips, and, breaking from his companions, he sprang forward and caught her in his arms.

"Nancy! Nancy darling! Thank God, we've found you!"

As he uttered the words the sound of two pistol shots rang out from the back of the house, and with a stifled oath the Inspector hurried toward them.

"Which is the way through into the yard?" he demanded.

Nancy pointed across toward a door on the right.

"There!" she gasped. "But it's locked. I heard them lock it and bolt it. You can only get round by the garden."

"Come with me, Bates," snapped the Inspector. "You stop here, doctor, and take care of the girl."

He ran toward the sitting room, followed by Joe, while Nancy, who had momentarily straightened herself as she answered his question, sank weakly back again against Colin's shoulder.

Lifting her in his arms, he carried her to a small couch which was standing against the wall.

"Tell me, Nancy," he whispered, "tell me. Are you hurt?"

With a gallant effort she smiled up reassuringly into his face.

"No," she said. "I am only tired out and a little faint. I—I've been through a good deal since this morning, Colin."

He sat down beside her, taking her hands in his.

"They brought you a forged letter from Penwarren, didn't they? The girl who lives next door to you told us something about it."

She nodded. "I suppose it was foolish of me to be taken in, but it looked to me just like his handwriting. It said that he had suddenly discovered the truth about my father and mother, and that he had come up to town especially to see me. I went off in the car almost without thinking."

"Where did they take you to?"

"Some house close to Kensington High Street. There was another man there besides Major Fenton—a horrible middle-aged, smiling man—and when they got me inside they held me down and drugged me with a hypodermic syringe. I think it must have been opium they gave me. Anyhow, the next thing I remember is waking up with a frightful headache, and finding myself locked up alone in that room."

With great difficulty Colin managed to steady his voice. "How long ago was that?" he asked.

"It seems ages, but I think it must have been about the middle of the day."

"And when did Fenton come back?"

"Just as it was growing dark. He had been down to the river to get the yacht ready, and had left one of the men here to look after me. He told me exactly what he meant to do—that he was going to take me away on the boat and keep me there until—until——" Her voice faltered.

"I know," said Colin quickly. "I've had the whole story from Medwin!"

"The whole story! Oh, Colin, what does it mean? Why should he——"

"You shall hear everything in a minute," he interrupted. "Just tell me first what happened when we broke into the house."

"It was all over so quickly," said Nancy. "He was in there talking to me and threatening me when he suddenly heard a tremendous crash, and one of the others—the man they call Spike—rushed into the room and shouted out something about the police. Before I could——" She stopped abruptly. "Listen!" she exclaimed. "They're coming back."

There was a sound of voices and steps on the verandah outside, and, letting go Nancy's hands, Colin jumped to his feet.

He walked across to the sitting-room door, where the sight which met his eyes caused him to hurry forward with a sudden exclamation of dismay. The Inspector and Joe were coming in through the window, carrying between them the limp, unconscious body of Sergeant Bentley.

Marsden glanced round, his usually stolid face flushed and contorted.

"They've shot him, doctor—shot him down like a dog and got away in the car. They must have had it standing ready in the garage."

As he spoke, he and Joe lowered their burden gently on to the thick rug which lay just across the window, and the next instant Colin had dropped on his knees, and was bending forward over the prostrate figure.

To an untrained eye the spectacle was a ghastly one, for the man's face was covered with blood, which had trickled down from a broad gash in his forehead. His pulse was still beating, however, and after feeling it for a few moments, and then closely examining the injury, Colin looked up with a little gesture of relief.

"It's not as bad as it appears," he announced. "The bullet must have struck him sideways and glanced off the outside of his temple. He's only stunned."

"Only stunned!" repeated the Inspector. "Well, in that case he can stop here with Bates and Miss Seymour, while you and I go after the others. If they once get on board that boat we may have the devil's work in catching them."

Colin started up immediately, but before he could speak he was interrupted by Nancy, who had followed him into the room.

"I can tell you where the yacht's lying," she said. "I heard them talking about it. It's in some small creek just this side of Thames Haven."

The Inspector wheeled round sharply on Colin. "Do you know the way?" he demanded. "Do you think you can overtake them?"

"I expect I can," replied Colin, "unless Nancy would rather I stayed with her."

She shook her head decisively. "I shall be all right with Joe," she said. "I want to see those two men punished for trying to kill you."

"You'd want it still more if you knew what we do, miss," said the Inspector drily.

He rummaged in the sergeant's pocket, and, pulling out a pair of light steel handcuffs, snapped them round the wrists of the still unconscious Hudson.

Colin turned to Nancy. "You might bathe this poor fellow's wound, and bandage him up with a clean handkerchief. If he comes round before we get back, make him lie perfectly still on the sofa."

She nodded quietly, and with an approving grunt the Inspector offered her his hand.

"Thank you, miss," he said. "You're a fine young lady, and I couldn't be more pleased to see you safe, not if you were my own daughter." Then, as if half embarrassed by this outburst, he added brusquely. "Come along, doctor! They've got a good start already, and we're only wasting time talking here."

He strode toward the window, and, just pausing to press a kiss on Nancy's fingers, Colin followed him out into the garden.

They made their way rapidly across the lawn and down to the front gate. The moon, which was almost at its full, had already risen, its silver beauty lighting up the roadway as plainly as though it were daytime.

The Inspector glanced up into the sky with some gratitude.

"We shall be able to see where we're going, at all events," he observed. "How far do you think the river is from here?"

"It must be about ten miles to Thames Haven," was Colin's answer. "There's no other place they could have left the yacht—not this side of Canvey Island."

"Ten miles!" echoed the other. "Well, if Fenton knows anything about driving it's going to be a pretty close business."

Breaking into a run, they hurried along the road to where they had left the car, and with a sharp jerk of the handle Colin set the engine in motion. Followed by the Inspector, he scrambled into his seat, and a few seconds later he had backed hastily along the oak paling, and swung round into the side turning which ran southward across the marshes.

It was not a route that any one who was fond of his life would have selected deliberately for the purposes of fast driving. Narrow and winding, with a thick coating of mud plastered over its surface, it presented such obvious dangers that even the most foolhardy of motorists would have been forced to recognize the advisability of caution.

Caution, however, was the particular virtue which Colin felt least able to afford. Unless he could make up his lost ground on the more difficult stages of the journey he could certainly abandon all hope of success, for on an open and moonlit road Fenton's progress would probably be as fast as his own.

With a full appreciation of the chances that he was taking he therefore let out the car to a pace which in any other circumstances he would never have attempted. Bumping over patches of loose stone, and splashing through pools of water, he held resolutely on, regardless of risk, while all the time immediately ahead of him two broad and recently imprinted tire marks stretched away encouragingly through the mud.

Whatever the Inspector's private emotions may have been, it must be admitted that he faced the ordeal with masterly restraint. Once or twice, as they skidded violently round a blind corner, he caught hold of the side door with a spasmodic grip, but except for this instinctive movement he maintained an expressionless calm which certainly did credit to the self-discipline of the Yard.

For the first three miles Colin needed all his skill and luck to avoid disaster; then, as they drew farther out into the lonely marshland which borders the north bank of the Thames, the conditions gradually improved. The east wind, which blows perpetually over that desolate region, had already begun to dry up the surface of the road, while with nothing but an occasional cowshed or a few leafless trees to obstruct the view, the chances of running headlong into some unforeseen death trap were reduced to much more comforting proportions.

Suddenly, with an abrupt movement, the Inspector pointed ahead, to where a broad shaft of yellow light streamed out against the sky.

"What's that?" he demanded, putting his lips close to Colin's ear.

"Mucking Lighthouse," was the answer. "There are some powder works away to the right, and the creek they're making for is just between the two."

At a furious pace the car leaped forward along the deserted road, the telltale track of the fugitives still standing out plainly in the glare of the head lamps. Colin was much too occupied with the wheel to indulge in any further attempt at conversation, while sheltering his eyes from the wind with one hand, and grasping the back of the seat with the other, the Inspector stared out in front of him in grim silence.

Rounding a slight curve between two low banks, they emerged into a long stretch of almost perfectly straight roadway, and at the same moment a simultaneous shout burst from both their lips. There in the moonlight, not more than half a mile away, they could see the dark outline and gleaming tail lamp of another car, travelling swiftly in the same direction as themselves.

"There they are!" roared the Inspector. "Keep her going, doctor! Keep her going, and we've got 'em!"

With an inward prayer that his tires would stand the strain, Colin drove down the accelerator to its extreme limit. The well-tuned engine responded to his call, and with the wind rushing in their faces, and the whole chassis quivering and rocking beneath them, they surged on recklessly in pursuit of their escaping quarry.

Any doubt as to the respective pace of the two cars was settled in the next minute. Slowly but surely the distance between them lessened, until in the bright moonlight it was possible to make out the bare head and broad shoulders of "Spike" Cooper as he crouched in the seat alongside the driver, staring back over the swaying tonneau.

"Look out for that devil!" shouted the Inspector. "He'll start shooting directly we're close enough."

Clutching his own pistol in his hand, he leaned forward over the dashboard, his eyes glued on the motionless figure ahead.

Nearer and nearer they drew, the mud and gravel flying from beneath their wheels, the roar and throb of the engine seeming to beat time to the mad rhythm of the chase.

Suddenly, with a warning cry, Marsden raised his weapon. There was a simultaneous spurt of flame from both cars, and with a vicious thud something buried itself in the padded seat just beside Colin's shoulder.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

A second bullet ripped its way along the front mud guard, and then, with a kind of stupefying and unimaginable abruptness, the end came.

Colin was just conscious of a shower of sparks from beneath the steel-studded tires as the car in front of him swerved violently across the road.

By some instinctive movement his hand shot out toward the brake lever, and almost at the same second came a deafening and appalling crash that seemed to strike him in the face like a blow from a fist.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"That's done it," remarked the Inspector bitterly.

He was standing in the car which Colin had just pulled up, staring down over a heap of stones at the black mass of broken wreckage which reared itself fantastically amongst the grass.

"I should think it was about the finish," said Colin quietly. "What on earth made them skid in that extraordinary way?"

"I suppose I hit Fenton by mistake," said the Inspector. "Just like my cursed luck. He must have driven straight into it and gone clean over the top. It's a hundred to one they're both dead."

"We'll soon find out, anyhow," was Colin's answer, and, opening the door as he spoke, he jumped down into the roadway.

A few strides brought him alongside the fallen car, where, in the pitiless moonlight, every detail of the tragedy stood out with horrible distinctness. Almost the first sight that met his eyes was the bodies of Fenton and Cooper, the former pinned down under the débris amid a cloud of escaping steam, and the other sprawled full length on the bare ground.

It was very obvious that nothing could be done for Fenton. The top of his skull had been smashed in like an eggshell, and, after just pausing to glance at the injury, Colin hurried over toward the prostrate figure of his companion.

The Canadian was lying on his face, his arms and legs flung out at a grotesque angle. To any one with medical knowledge there was something fatally suggestive about the mere attitude of the limbs, and it was no little surprise to Colin that, as he stooped down to make a closer examination, a low groan reached his ears.

With great care he turned over the helpless man and raised him in his arms.

"Well, we've got one of 'em alive, anyhow," observed the Inspector, who had followed him across the grass.

As though conscious of the remark, Cooper opened his eyes, and for a moment lay there with his head on Colin's shoulder, gazing up vaguely into the two faces above him. Then something that was almost a grin flickered across his face.

"I guess we've met before, mister," he jerked out faintly. "Say, how the hell did your friends get you out of that cellar?"

"Never mind now," interrupted the detective curtly. "You've got something else to think about at present. I am Inspector Marsden of Scotland Yard, and I arrest you for the murder of Professor Carter."

There was a glint of mockery in Cooper's face as his eyes travelled slowly in the direction of the speaker.

"Good for you, Sherlock Holmes," he gasped. "I reckon the British police ain't quite such duds after all." He paused, as though the effort of speaking had been almost too much for him. "It's tough luck you won't get the credit of hanging me," he added, in an even feebler voice. "Still, if you will be so damn careless with that gun o' yours——" He stopped, and with a little choking cough spat out a mouthful of blood.

The Inspector turned anxiously to Colin.

"What's the matter with him?" he demanded.

"His spine's practically broken," said Colin. "He can't live more than a few minutes."

Marsden bent over the dying man, on whose white face the moonlight streamed down with a peculiarly ghastly effect.

"Listen to me, Cooper," he said. "We know all about you. We've got your record from Montreal. Fenton's dead, and I don't imagine that our friend Medwin is a particular pal of yours. Come, man, you may just as well tell us the truth."

Cooper, who seemed to be breathing with extreme difficulty, moistened his lips.

"It's no good, mister," he faltered. "You can't put a rope round Medwin's neck—not this journey. He hadn't no more to do with croaking the old guy than you or the doctor."

Marsden nodded. "I know that," he said. "You broke into the house the second time by yourself in order to try and rob the safe. Neither Fenton nor Medwin knew anything about it—until afterward."

Cooper looked up at him again, the same half-jeering smile on his drawn face.

"You ought to be with Pinkerton," he gasped. "You're just wasted here."

As he dragged out the last word another paroxysm of coughing overtook him. It lasted for several seconds, and then, with a queer, fluttering movement of the eyelids, his head suddenly lolled over sideways on to his shoulder, the under jaw dropping open at the same time.

Colin lowered his burden to the ground, and after wiping his hands on the grass, rose to his feet.

For a moment the Inspector stood still, gazing down at the body.

"Well, that's done the hangman out of a job," he observed regretfully. "What's more, I believe the devil was right. We shall only be able to charge Medwin with conspiracy, though if any man ever deserved—— Hullo! here's somebody coming!"

He broke off abruptly at the sight of a dark figure, which was approaching along the roadway from the direction in which they had been travelling.

"One of the men from the powder works, I expect," said Colin. "We're quite close by, and they probably heard the crash."

Marsden stepped forward to meet the new arrival, who had turned on to the grass and was hurrying rapidly toward them. As he drew nearer they saw that he was a respectable-looking middle-aged man, dressed in a rough suit of tweeds.

He came on at a kind of stumbling run, and pulled up with an exclamation of horror as the full extent of the disaster suddenly met his eyes.

"Good God!" he exclaimed. "I was afraid there had been a bad accident. Is anybody killed?"

"Yes," said Marsden bluntly. "Both these men are dead." He paused. "Who are you, sir, and where do you come from?" he asked.

"My name's Trevor. I'm the head electrician at the powder mills just down the road."

"Well, I'm a police officer," said Marsden, "and this gentleman is Doctor Gray."

"A police officer?" repeated the other. "Is there anything——"

"One of our friends here," continued Marsden, jerking his head in the direction of Cooper's body, "is the murderer of Professor Carter. I have no doubt you read about the case in the papers. The other was wanted on an almost equally serious charge."

Their new acquaintance stood staring at them in open-mouthed amazement.

"But—but what on earth were they doing down here?" he stammered.

"They were trying to reach Thames Haven, where they hoped to get on board a boat. We were following them in another car, and just as they got to this point they swerved right across the road into that heap of stones. You can see the result for yourself."

The electrician nodded his head. "Yes," he replied, "I can. You must excuse my being a bit flabbergasted, but it's pretty quiet round about here as a rule, and this kind of thing's a trifle out of my line." He removed the soft hat that he was wearing and wiped his forehead with his coat sleeve. "What do you propose to do?" he asked. "We've a telephone at the works if you'd like me to get into communication with any one."

Marsden pulled out his pocketbook and extracted a card.

"This is my name," he said. "Do you mind going straight back and ringing up the Southend Police Station? Say that you're speaking for me, and ask them to send out a motor ambulance and a car as soon as possible. They'll know the powder works, and when they arrive perhaps you'll be good enough to bring them on here."

"Why, certainly," was the answer. "In the meanwhile, if there's anything you want that I can let you have——"

"Well, I don't know if you could run to a whisky and soda," suggested Marsden hopefully. "I could do with a drink after what we've been through the last quarter of an hour."

"I'll send one of the men along with it," responded the other, and without waiting to be thanked he nodded a hasty farewell, and set off at once in the direction of the roadway.

Marsden turned to Colin. "You can get back to 'The Firs' and pick up Miss Seymour if you like. There's no point in your remaining here, unless you want to stop until the whisky comes."

"Oh, hang the whisky!" said Colin. "It's you I'm thinking of. I can't leave you stranded in a ditch with a couple of corpses."

"You needn't worry about that," returned Marsden cheerfully. "I've been in worse company, and, in any case, the Southend police will be turning up in round about half an hour. No, you go along, doctor, and take Miss Seymour home in the car."

"What about the sergeant and Joe?" inquired Colin.

"They can wait for us. We shall be passing the house on our way back, and if Bentley's still unconscious there'll be room for him in the ambulance."

"Well, it seems rather a shame to desert you," said Colin. "All the same, if you really don't mind I think I will push off. Nancy must be pretty well tired out, and the sooner I can get her back to Shadwell the better."

"She'll be all right," said Marsden encouragingly. "If you think she needs a little tonic give her my congratulations and tell her that she's worth a couple of hundred thousand pounds." He held out his hand. "You shall hear from me later in the evening. I'll either 'phone you up or come down to Shadwell myself."

"Come if you possibly can," said Colin. "Nancy will be longing to thank you for everything you've done, and if you want any further inducement Mark's got some topping good champagne."

* * * * * * * * *

The light was still streaming out through the shattered window as, leaving his car at the gate of "The Firs," Colin once more made his way up the drive and strode eagerly across the lawn.

On reaching the verandah he found that the broken hasp had been fastened roughly together inside by a piece of wire, and while he was endeavouring to disentangle the latter the figure of Joe appeared suddenly in the doorway.

At the sight of Colin he hastened forward with a shout of welcome.

"'Alf a moment, guv'nor. 'Ere, let me get at it. You'll cut your 'and on that glass if you ain't careful."

With a quick turn of his fingers he wrenched off the wire and flung open the window, and at the same moment Nancy herself came hurrying into the room.

"Oh, Colin, at last!" she cried. "I was so afraid that something had happened to you."

Regardless of Joe, Colin took her into his arms and kissed her two or three times with reassuring fervour.

"Nothing has happened to me, Nancy," he said. "I'm afraid I can't say the same with regard to Fenton and Cooper."

She looked up at him with a startled expression in her eyes.

"Colin!" she exclaimed. "You don't mean——"

His arms tightened round her. "I had to let you know," he said gently, "though I hate to spring any more horrors on you. I'm not sure it isn't all for the best. Cooper would certainly have been hanged, and as for Fenton——"

"Wot's 'appened, gov'nor?" broke in Joe anxiously. "You ain't goin' to tell me they're both dead?"

"They were when I left them," said Colin. "As dead as any one I've ever seen in my life. They ran into a heap of loose stones just this side of Thames Haven and smashed themselves to pieces."

"Well, if that ain't the limit!" observed Joe disgustedly. "'Ere' ave I bin waitin' to bash 'ell outer that bloke Cooper——"

"Stop, Joe!" commanded Nancy almost angrily. "I won't have you talking like that. It's wicked."

The abashed boxer fell back, and with a quick breath she turned again to Colin.

"Where's the Inspector?" she asked. "Why hasn't he come with you?"

"He's all right," said Colin. "We got someone to send a message through to the Southend police, and he's waiting for them to turn up with a motor ambulance. He suggested that in the meanwhile I should come on here and take you home in the car. He's going to call for Joe and the sergeant on his way back." He paused and glanced inquiringly round the room. "By the way," he added, "where is the sergeant, and what's happened to my pal Jake Hudson?"

"Hudson's locked up in the cellar," replied Nancy. "We carried the other poor man into the hall and put him on the sofa. I bandaged up his head as well as I could, but he's still unconscious."

"I'll go in and have a look at him," said Colin. "Then I should think we might as well push off. I've all sorts of exciting news for you, Nancy."

"If you mean about Mr. Carter being my grandfather," she interrupted calmly, "I know that already."

Colin stared at her in amazement. "You know it already?" he repeated.

She nodded her head. "Yes," she said, "Joe told me. Of course, there's a lot I don't understand yet, but——"

"I didn't mean to do it, guv'nor," protested Joe; "strike me dead if I did. She jest started askin' questions, and afore I knew wot 'ad 'appened, damn me if I 'adn't given away the 'ole show."

Colin looked from one to the other of them, and then began to laugh.

"I thought I could depend on you, Joe," he said reproachfully.

The boxer glanced at Nancy with a kind of admiring resentment. "I always reckoned I could keep my mouth shut," he muttered, "but she's one o' them young laidies a bloke ain't got no chance with."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not," said Nancy. "Anyhow, Colin, do come along and see what you think of my patient. We shall have plenty of time to talk about me when we're going home in the car."

She led the way out into the hall, and, crossing to where the unconscious and heavily breathing Bentley lay propped upon the sofa amongst a pile of cushions, Colin bent down to inspect the bandages which encircled his head.

"Nothing the matter with this," he said approvingly. "You must have been having lessons from Mark in your spare time." He made a brief examination of the man's pulse and general condition, while the others stood by watching him in silence. "I don't think there'll be much to worry about when he comes round," he added, "but of course he'll have to keep to his bed for a day or two." He turned to Joe. "Put some of these cushions round him so that he isn't shaken about in the ambulance, and tell Marsden to take him to the hospital directly you reach London."

"I believe there must be some kind of curse on me," said Nancy rather ruefully. "I seem to bring trouble on everyone I have anything to do with."

"You ain't no call to feel like that, miss," objected Joe. "A cracked 'ead ain't much in the way of trouble—not for a policeman, any'ow."

"You can be pretty sure that that's the way in which Bentley will look at it," said Colin. "As for the Inspector"—his gray eyes lit up with a boyish twinkle—"well, if he hadn't told me that he was a married man with three children I should have been jolly careful not to ask him round to Shadwell this evening."

With a little laugh Nancy held out her hands toward him.

"Take me home, Colin," she said. "I feel like Charles Lamb when they gave him a pension. I want to go home for ever."

* * * * * * * * *

Mark filled up his empty glass, and, settling himself in his armchair, beamed paternally at Colin and Nancy, who were sitting opposite to him on the sofa.

"It only shows how careful one ought to be," he said. "Just think of the chance I missed when I took Nancy on as a secretary! If I'd had any idea that she was going to blossom out suddenly as a sort of female Rothschild I should immediately have adopted her as my daughter."

"Perhaps it's as well you didn't," said Colin, laughing. "She'd have found it a bit of a strain to carry out the fifth commandment."

Nancy, who was looking distractingly pretty as she lay back against the cushions, smiled contentedly at them both.

"I think it's much better as it is," she said. "If I hadn't known what it felt like to be bullied and ordered about I shouldn't be half so happy when I'm married to Colin."

Mark set down his glass with an air of pretended dismay.

"But, my dear child," he exclaimed, "you can't possibly marry Colin now. You must put that idea right out of your head. Why, with your looks and two hundred thousand pounds you might make an alliance with a duke."

There was a moment's pause.

"By Jove, yes!" observed Colin blankly. "I never thought of that."

He turned to Nancy, but before he could add anything further she raised her finger in a peremptory warning.

"It's no use, Colin dear," she said. "Joe saw you hugging and kissing me at 'The Firs,' and I'm not the sort of girl to allow my young affections to be trifled with. If you attempt to back out of it now I shall sue you for breach of promise."

The distant tinkle of a bell sounded through the house, and, raising himself in his chair, Mark glanced indignantly at the clock.

"Oh, hang it all!" he exclaimed. "I'm not going to see any more patients to-night. It's nearly ten, and, besides that, I'm beautifully and comfortably intoxicated."

"It may be Marsden," suggested Colin. "He promised to come down if he could manage to spare the time."

They heard the front door open and close, and after a brief interval the somewhat breathless figure of Martha Jane burst unceremoniously into the room.

"There's a police inspector downstairs," she announced. "'E says 'e's come to see Doctor Gray."

Mark hoisted himself to his feet. "Show him up," he said hospitably, "and then fetch along another glass. If any one else calls, tell them that I've been sent for to Buckingham Palace to operate on the King."

Leaving the door open behind her, Martha Jane vanished down the staircase. There was a murmur of voices, followed by a creak of footsteps, and a moment later she reappeared, with the bullet head and broad shoulders of the detective mounting in her wake.

Jumping up from the sofa, Colin met him as he entered the room.

"So glad you've been able to come, Marsden," he exclaimed. "We only wanted you to complete the party." He waved an introductory hand in the direction of Mark. "This is my friend, Doctor Ashton. I don't think there's any need to introduce you to Miss Seymour!"

Marsden smiled, and, stepping forward, shook hands with his host.

"Pleased to meet you, doctor," he said. "I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but, as you've probably heard, we've been having rather a busy and exciting afternoon." He turned to Nancy. "I hope you're not feeling much the worse for it, miss?"

"Not a bit," said Nancy, "thanks to you and Colin. I only wish I could tell you how grateful I am for all you've done for me."

Marsden shook his head. "It's very good of you to say so, miss, but I'm not throwing any bouquets at myself this journey. On the contrary, I don't think I've ever made so many blunders in a case in the whole of my professional career."

"Why, what are you worrying about?" demanded Colin. "Except for the regrettable fact that we can't hang Cooper——"

"You haven't heard my news yet," interrupted Marsden. "I'm almost ashamed to confess it, but the fact remains that we've allowed Medwin to slip through our fingers."

Colin stared at him incredulously. "Medwin escaped!" he exclaimed.

"If you like to put it that way. He has escaped being sent for trial, anyhow. At the present moment he's lying in the mortuary at the Kensington Police Station."

With a faint cry of horror Nancy caught hold of Colin's hand.

"It was all my fault," continued Marsden. "I ought to have made certain of him before we left London. It never occurred to me he'd play us a dirty trick like this."

"What do you mean?" broke in Colin. "When I left him he was tied up on the sofa. How on earth——"

"Well, the servants came back and untied him," said Marsden curtly. "He invented some cock-and-bull story about having been attacked by a couple of burglars, and then sent them down to the kitchen and locked himself in his study. As soon as I got back to London I telephoned through to Kensington and gave instructions for his arrest, but by that time it was too late. They found him sitting dead in his chair, with a letter which he had just written lying on the table beside him. He had swallowed enough poison to kill half a dozen people."

There was a brief silence.

"I see now," said Colin slowly. "He told me he knew when he was beaten, and that's evidently what he meant." He paused. "And the letter?" he asked.

Marsden put his hand in his pocket and produced a large square envelope.

"The letter was my chief reason for coming down here. As a matter of fact, it was addressed to you, but under the circumstances I've taken the liberty of opening it."

He presented the envelope to Colin, who, after glancing unbelievingly at his own name, pulled out and unfolded its contents.

"3 ALBERT TERRACE, "KENSINGTON.

"My dear Gray,—You will probably be surprised at receiving a letter from me, but you must put it down to the whim of a dying man.

"The truth is, I feel that I owe an apology both to you and to Miss Seymour.

"I will make no attempt to defend my conduct. I frankly admit that it justifies practically every one of the uncomplimentary epithets which you hurled at me in the course of your dramatic visit.

"The only accusation against which I must enter a protest is that either Fenton or I was in any way concerned with the murder of my old friend and client, the late Professor Carter. On this point you are entirely mistaken. It was the work of that senseless ruffian Cooper, whom we had employed to assist us in breaking into the Red Lodge when we found it necessary to examine the Professor's papers. I sincerely hope that this information will be of some assistance in bringing him to the gallows.

"On the charges of embezzlement and conspiracy, however, the fact remains that I have rendered myself liable to a considerable term of penal servitude. It is an unpleasant position, but one which I am perfectly prepared to face. Playing for high stakes has always had a peculiar attraction for me, and in the event of failure I have never been one of those poor-spirited sportsmen who object to settling their accounts.

"I doubt if you will believe me, but I should like to say in conclusion that as far as you are concerned I have no feeling of resentment. On the contrary, if you had not been so infernally in my way it would have been a distinct pleasure to me to cultivate your society. Being of a somewhat complex temperament, I derive considerable enjoyment from the companionship of a crude and vigorous young savage like yourself.

"I do not know whether you arrived in time to rescue Miss Seymour from the embraces of our mutual friend, but I have no doubt that you will succeed in consoling her for any unpleasant experiences to which she may have been subjected. From the little I saw of her she struck me as being a singularly attractive and high-spirited young lady.

"Please convey to her my apologies for the unchivalrous treatment she has received, and also express my regret that there should be a shortage of some twenty thousand pounds in the money to which she is entitled. As the sum which still remains, however, amounts to about a hundred and seventy thousand pounds, it will be amply sufficient to provide you both with those minor comforts and luxuries which form such an agreeable addition even to the happiest of married lives.

"Believe me, my dear Gray, "Your sincere admirer, "JAMES STANHOPE MEDWIN."

Colin read through this remarkable communication in silence, and, having come to the end, handed it to Nancy.

"It's just the sort of letter I should have expected him to write," he observed. "The only thing I'm surprised at is that he didn't send us a wedding present."

"Well, it's queer your putting it like that," replied the detective. "As a matter of fact, it's the very same remark which I made to the Commissioner. There's a certain type of criminal who doesn't care what happens to him as long as he can die showing off and codding himself that he's a sportsman and a gentleman."

"I suppose that's true," said Nancy, looking up from the letter. "I do wish he hadn't killed himself, though. I hate to feel that three people have lost their lives and all on account of——"

"It's only because you're not accustomed to it," interrupted Mark comfortingly. "When one's been a doctor for twenty years a trifling massacre like this leaves one quite unperturbed."

As he spoke Martha Jane appeared with the clean glass, and, taking it off the tray, he turned to Marsden.

"How about a drop of champagne, Inspector?" he suggested. "There's nothing like it after a busy day, and, besides, you've got to drink to the health of the happy pair."

"I won't say no to a good offer like that," returned the detective.

He accepted the beaker which Mark held out to him, and, raising it in his hand, nodded first to Nancy and then to Colin.

"I've already congratulated the doctor," he said. "As for you, miss, if you'll excuse my saying so, I think you've made as big a success in choosing a husband as you did in choosing a grandfather."

He drained his glass to the dregs, and set it down on the table with an appreciative smack.

"I'm sorry to tear myself away from such a pleasant party," he added, "but I've got to get back to the Yard and complete my report of the case. We're fixing the inquest for the day after to-morrow."

"Shall I have to give evidence?" inquired Nancy in some dismay.

"I'm afraid there's no getting out of that, miss. You and Doctor Gray will be the two principal witnesses, but I shall be seeing the Coroner first, and you can take it from me that you won't be asked more questions than are absolutely necessary." He turned to Colin. "I should like to see you the first thing in the morning, doctor. This case is bound to attract a good deal of attention, and there are one or two points in connection with it which it will be better if we keep to ourselves."

"That's all right," said Colin calmly. "You tell me what you want us to say, and Nancy and I will stick to it like Britons."

Marsden laughed, and, picking up his cap from the table, shook hands all round.

"Let me see you as far as the door, Inspector," suggested Mark. "I think I'm just sober enough to be able to manage the staircase."

He led the way out on the landing, followed by the detective, and for the first time since their return to the house Colin and Nancy found themselves alone.

He put his arm round her, and, bending down, kissed her hair.

"You mustn't let all this distress you too much, darling," he said gently. "It's been a horrible and ghastly business, but I do believe it's ended in the best way possible. If these men hadn't been killed——"

"I know, Colin," she said. "I think it's only a sort of selfish feeling I've got. I am so happy myself I want everyone else to be happy too."

"So they are!" declared Colin. "At least, everyone who matters. There's you and I and Mark and Mary and Joe——" He paused. "By the way, I wonder what's happened to Joe."

"I know what's going to happen to him," said Nancy. "Directly I get my money I'm going to buy him the biggest and most beautiful public house in Shadwell. If it wasn't for Joe——" Her voice faltered, and with a sudden impulsive movement she caught hold of Colin's hand and pressed it to her cheek.

For a moment he stood looking down at her, his gray eyes alight with love and tenderness.

"There's only one thing that isn't quite perfect," he said slowly. "I'm afraid that, whatever success I meet with in my research work, I'm bound to be more or less disappointed."

"Oh, Colin, what do you mean?"

"Why," he whispered softly, "I've already made the greatest discovery in the world. I've found you."

THE END