"You hear, Downs!" he said to the chauffeur.

Downs was one of those strange beings who have been evolved by the age of petrol, an automaton compounded, seemingly, of steel springs and leather. He had long ago lost the art of speech, having cultivated delicacy of hearing and quickness of sight at the expense of all other human faculties. The old-time coachman possessed a certain fluent jargon, which enabled him to chide or encourage his horses and exchange suitable comments with the drivers of brewers' drays and market carts, but the modern chauffeur is all an ear for the rhythm of machinery, all an eye for the nice calculation of the hazards of the road fifty yards ahead.

At any rate, Downs mumbled something which resembled "Yes, sir," Forbes sprang in and slammed the door, Furneaux raced round the front of the car and perched himself beside Downs, and the heavy automobile was almost into its normal stride before it had traveled twice its own length.

Theydon was left gaping on the pavement. He saw that the car turned west, and caught a glimpse of Furneaux's outstretched hand with forefinger pointing like the barrel of a pistol.

"Fool!" he cried, in bitter self-apostrophe. "Why didn't I jump in after Forbes? Now I am out of the hunt! I wonder what the deuce Furneaux saw or heard?"

That concluding thought sent him back to the flat, two steps at a time.

"Bates!" he shouted. "Has Mr. Furneaux used the telephone, or did any one ring up?"

"No, sir," said Bates, coming hurriedly at that urgent call. "Fust thing I knew was he was tearin' out, an' runnin' downstairs like mad."

"O, double-distilled idiot that I am!" growled Theydon again. "Why didn't I go with them!"

As though the gods heard his plaint and meant to crush him with their answer, the telephone bell sounded at his elbow. Mechanically, he lifted the receiver off its hook, and immediately became aware of Tomlinson's voice, with some element of flurry and distress in its unctuous accents.

"That you, Mr. Theydon?" said the butler.

"Yes."

"Have you had any news of Mr. Forbes, sir?"

"Yes. He has just left me."

"Ah, if only I had known, and had given you a call before ringing up the city!"

"What is it? Can I do anything?"

"It's Miss Evelyn, sir."

"Yes, what of her?"

"She's gone, sir."

Theydon's heart apparently stopped for a second, and then raced madly into tumultuous action again.

"Gone! Good Lord, man, what do you mean?" he almost groaned.

"A telegram came from Mrs. Forbes, at Eastbourne, saying she was ill and wanted Miss Evelyn. I tried all I knew to persuade Miss Evelyn to wait until she had spoken to her father, but she wouldn't listen— she just threw on a hat and a wrap, and took a taxi to Victoria."

Some membrane or film of tissue which might have served hitherto to shut off from Frank Theydon's cheery temperament any real knowledge of the pitfalls which may beset the path of the unwary seemed in that instant to shrivel as though it had been devoured by flame.

He knew, how or why he could never tell, that the girl had been drawn into the plot which had already claimed so many victims and sought so many more. All doubt vanished. He spoke and acted with the swift certainty of a man tackling an emergency for which he had prepared during a long period of training and expectation.

"Mr. Forbes may arrive at any moment, Tomlinson," he said. "Tell his office people to let you know if he goes first to the city. When you hear from or see him, say that I have either accompanied or followed Miss Evelyn to Eastbourne. If I do not catch the same train I shall take prompt measures in other respects. Got that?"

"Yes, sir."

It was easy to distinguish the relief in Tomlinson's utterance, relief mingled, doubtless, with astonishment that a comparative stranger should display such an authoritative and prompt interest in the family affairs.

"That is all. Write down my message, lest you omit any part of it."

Theydon rang off.

"Come!" he said to Bates, who had not retired to his den, but was listening, discreet yet rabbit-eared, to these queer proceedings. Followed by the manservant, he darted into the sitting room and did several things at once.

He unlocked a drawer and took from it a considerable sum of money which he kept there for emergency journeys, also pocketing an automatic pistol. Pouncing on an A B C time table, be looked up the trains for East-bourne. A fast train left Victoria at 1:25 p. m. The hour was now 1:05.

Meanwhile he was talking.

"Bates," he said, "I promised Miss Beale, the lady who came here this morning, that my sister, Mrs. Paxton, would visit her this evening, say about six. Miss Beale is staying at Smith's Hotel, Jermyn Street. Go to Mrs. Paxton, and see her, waiting at her house if she happens to be out. Tell everything you know about Mrs. Lester's death, and ask her to take care of Miss Beale this evening. She will understand. I'll wire her at Smith's Hotel before the dinner hour, if possible. If anybody calls here, I leave it to your discretion and your wife's whether or not they should be informed of my movements. Mr. Forbes or the police, of course, must be told everything. Miss Forbes is probably in the 1:25 p. m. train for Eastbourne, and I am going with her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll wire or 'phone you later."

Grabbing a straw hat and a bundle of telegraph forms, Theydon vanished, not even waiting to slam the outer door. Bates, who had seen service, knew that men in time of stress and danger acted just like the detective and his own employer.

"By Jingo!" he muttered, beginning to assemble the empty coffee-cups on a tray. "Things is wakin' up here, an' no mistake!"

Theydon was fortunate in finding a taxicab depositing a fare at a neighboring block. Just before he reached the vehicle a gentleman hurried out of the building and forestalled him. Theydon dashed up, and caught the other man by the arm.

"My need is urgent," he said. "Let, me have this cab."

The stranger smiled good-humoredly. He was an American and had not the least objection to being hustled by a Britisher; indeed he rather appreciated this exhibition of haste as a novel experience.

"I'm on a hair-trigger myself," he said, pleasantly. "I want to make Victoria pretty quick. Can I give you a lift?"

"In with you!" cried Theydon. "Now, cabby, half a sovereign if you get us to Victoria, Brighton line, in 15 minutes. I'll pay all fines."

Then they were off, and the Trans-Atlantic cousins were banged against one another as the cab whirled round in a sharp semicircle.

"Say!" cried the American, "this reminds one of home. I've been here a week, an' had a kind of notion that London air was half fog, half dope. But you're awake all right. Bet you a five spot you're after a girl!"

"I pay," said Theydon, his eyes glistening. "And such a girl! Her portrait on the paper wrap of a 50-cent novel would sell it in millions!"

"Gee whiz! Is it like that? Go right ahead, Augustus! Never mind me. Take this old bus all the way to Paris. I'll find the fares and hold your hat. But kindly shift that gun into your opposite pocket. You've dug it into my thigh quite often enough. If you want to get first drop on the other fellow, shove it up your sleeve!"

CHAPTER IX

SHARP WORK

The American's easy-going badinage provided the best sort of tonic. Theydon laughed as be transferred the pistol from one pocket to the other.

"My motto is 'Defense, not Defiance,'" he said. "I hope sincerely that I shall not be called on to shoot, or even threaten any one. Using firearms, although for self-protection, is a very serious matter in this country. May I ask your name? Mine's Theydon. I live in those mansions we have just quitted."

"And I'm George T. Handyside, 21,097 Park Avenue, Chicago," was the answer.

"Is that your telephone number?"

"No, sir. It's my home address."

"Well, Mr. Handyside, if ever I come to Chicago, I'll travel along Park Avenue and give you a call. How many days' journey are you from the center of the city?"

"Say, Mr. Theydon, I'm real glad to make your acquaintance. I haven't been joshed in that way since I left the steamer. This little island of yours is all right as a beauty spot, but I do wish your people wouldn't carry such a grouch agin' life generally. Great Scott! It'll do 'em a heap of good to try a real chesty laugh occasionally."

"Tell me where I can drop across you in London later in the week, and I'll see if we can't find a smile somewhere."

The American scribbled the name of a Strand hotel on a card, which Theydon disposed in his pocketbook, at the same time producing one of his own cards.

"You'll hear from me," he said. "Now, Mr. Handyside, pardon me for the next few minutes. I have to write telegrams."

The first was to Forbes, addressed in duplicate to Old Broad Street and Fortescue Square. It ran:

"If this message is not qualified by another within a few minutes I am in the 1:25 train for Eastbourne."

Then to Winter:

"Young lady summoned to Eastbourne by telegram stating that her mother is ill. Suspect the message as bogus and emanating from Y. M. See Furneaux. He will explain. Am hoping to travel by same train. If disappointed will wire again immediately.— Theydon."

He read each slip carefully, to make sure that the phraseology was clear. The speed at which the cab was traveling rendered his handwriting somewhat illegible, but he thought he saw a means of circumventing that difficulty.

"Which place are you going?" he inquired of his unexpected companion.

"To a place called Sutton."

"What time does your train leave?"

"Guess it's about 1:30."

"You have five more minutes at your disposal than I have. Will you hand in these three messages at the telegraph office? I'll read them to you, in case the counter clerk is doubtful about any of my words."

"Sure thing, Mr. Theydon. You've interested me. I don't care a row of beans if I drop out Sutton altogether."

"I'm greatly obliged, but that is not necessary. You'll have loads of time. We're in the Park already, and our driver has a clear run to Victoria. Now, listen!"

Mr. Handyside did listen, and pricked his ears at the mention of Scotland Yard.

"Gosh!" he exclaimed, "this is better'n a life-line movie! For the love of Millie, let me in by the early door! Now, how's this for a proposition? You send those telegrams, and I'll fix the cab an' buy the transportation to Eastbourne for the pair of us. I'm not heeled, but I may be useful, an' I'll jab any fellow in the solar plexus at call."

Theydon gazed at this self-avowed knight-errant in surprise. Handyside was a man of forty, whose dark hair was flecked with gray. He was quietly dressed, a wide-brimmed high-crowned hat of finely-plaited white straw providing the solo note of markedly American origin in his attire. The expression of his well-moulded features was shrewd but pleasing, and the poise of a spare but sinewy frame gave evidence of active habit and some considerable degree of physical strength.

"Pon my honor," said the Englishman. "I'm half inclined to take you at your word, except in the matter of expenses, which, of course, I must bear. You see, if my services are called for, and prove effective, I may need help."

"Go right ahead," said the other calmly. "Tell me as much or as little as you like. Where's this place, Eastbourne? On the south coast, I guess."

"Yes."

"I thought it would be. A man on the steamer asked me to come and see him at Westgate, which is about as far east as you can go in England without wetting your feet. I'm getting the hang of things here by degrees. Southport, of course, is away up north, and Northamptonshire in the midlands."

Theydon grinned, but the taxi was passing Buckingham Palace, and the hour was 1:17 p. m.

"I cannot give you any sort of an explanation now, Mr. Handyside," he said. "Later in the week, perhaps, I may have a big story for your private ear. All I can say at the moment is this— I have reason to believe that a young lady, a daughter of Mr. James Creighton Forbes, a well-known man in the city of London, is being decoyed to Eastbourne in the belief that her mother is ill. Now, I may be wholly mistaken. Her mother may be ill. If that is so, I am making this trip under a delusion. At any rate, my notion is to try and fall in with Miss Forbes accidentally, as it were, and watch over her until I am quite sure that she is with her mother. You follow me?"

"Seems to me," said the American imperturbably, "it's the most natural thing in the world that Mr. Theydon should want to show his friend, Mr. Handyside of Chicago, England's most bracing and attractive seaside resort, if that's the right way to describe Eastbourne."

"Both the plan and the description are admirable."

"The plan sounds all right. As for the description I have been looking up a selection of posters, and those seven words apply to every half-mile strip of beach in the island. When it comes to a real show-down, your poster artists have got our real estate men skinned a mile. How much did you promise the taxi-man?"

"Half a sovereign."

"Two-fifty. Gee! That's the nearest thing to New York I've struck yet. And the railway tickets— first-class, of course?"

"Yes."

The cab stopped. Theydon sprang out and raced to the telegraph office, where, as he anticipated, there was a slight delay. Handyside awaited him at the correct barrier, and together they walked down a long platform, Theydon peering into every carriage, though convinced that Evelyn Forbes would not travel other than first class. Thus, not being a detective, but only a very anxious and perplexed young man, he had eyes only for such ladies as were already seated in the train, and failed to note the immediate interest his appearance aroused in a man who occupied a window seat, and who was watching unobtrusively every one who passed. Oddly enough, after the first wondering glance, this observer was more closely taken up with Handyside. It was as though he said to himself:

"Theydon I know, but who in the world is his companion, and why are they traveling by an Eastbourne express— today of all days?"

The train was well filled; there were only a few seconds to spare when Theydon came across Evelyn Forbes in a compartment which held two other passengers— a lady and a gentleman.

Recognition was mutual, and Theydon flattered himself that he betrayed just the right amount of pleasurable astonishment.

"Miss Forbes!" he cried, raising his hat. "Well, of all the unexpected meetings! Don't say you are going to Eastbourne!"

"But I am," she said, and, though she smiled, her eyes were heavy with unshed tears. She was deeply attached to her mother, and the thought that the loved one was too ill even to communicate with her by telephone was distressing beyond measure.

"Just imagine that!" went on Theydon, determined to rush his fences and travel with her unless openly forbidden. "I'm taking an American friend there for the afternoon. May we come in your carriage? Is there room for two?"

Now, although Evelyn Forbes had been attracted to Theydon during their vivacious conversation overnight, she would vastly have preferred the comparative solitude of a journey with strangers.

Still, she could hardly refuse such a request, and common sense told her that a pleasant chat with a man who could talk as well as Theydon offered a better means of whiling away two and a half hours than brooding over the nature and extent of her mother's unknown illness.

"There's plenty of room," she said.

Without further ado, Theydon entered and Handyside followed. The compartment held six seats, while a door led to a side corridor running the length of the coach. The two remaining occupants were worthy Britons who neither invited nor received any special attention.

Mr. Handyside was introduced, and promptly said the right thing.

"I guess I knew what I was doing when I forced Mr. Theydon to take me out of London today," he said, with a smile which left the girl in no doubt as to the nature of the implied compliment.

"But it is hardly an hour since I spoke to my father at Mr. Theydon's flat," she said. "Were you there, too, Mr. Handyside?"

"No, in the next block. That was the nearest I got to Mr. Theydon before we met and took a cab for Victoria."

Theydon was pleased with his ally. No diplomat, trained during long years to conceal material facts, could have headed the girl off more deftly, while every word was literally true.

"Ah!" she said, glancing meaningly at Theydon, "we are all the sport of fortune, then. How strange! Of course, Mr. Theydon, you don't know why I am here. I have had a telegram from my mother, or one sent in her name. She has been taken ill suddenly."

"That is bad news," was the sympathetic answer. "If the message has not come direct from Mrs. Forbes may it not be rather exaggerated in tone? Some people can never write telegrams. The knowledge that each word costs a halfpenny weighs on them like a nightmare."

As he hoped and anticipated, she produced the message itself from her handbag.

"This is what it says," she said, and read: "'Mrs. Forbes ill and unable communicate by telephone. Come at once. Manager Royal Devonshire Hotel.'" Then she added, with a suspicious break in her voice: "That sounds serious enough, in all conscience."

"Is it addressed to you personally?" said Theydon, racking his wits for some means of lessening the girl's foreboding without tickling the ears of the other people in the compartment by suggesting that she might have been brought from her home by some cruel ruse of her father's enemies.

"Yes."

"But isn't that somewhat singular in itself? One would imagine that such a significant message would have been sent to your father."

"Why?"

"Well, men are better fitted to withstand these shocks, for one thing. It was heartless, or, to say the least, thoughtless, to give you such news with the brutal frankness of a telegram."

"I cannot understand it at all. Mother wrote this morning telling me that she was going to Beachy Head this afternoon with a picnic party,"

"I am convinced," said Theydon gravely, "that some one has blundered. It may be the act of some stupid foreigner. I shall not be content now, Miss Forbes, until I have gone with you to the Royal Devonshire, and learnt what the extent of the trouble really is. Then, if Mrs. Forbes needs your presence, perhaps you will allow me to telephone to your father, as he will be greatly disturbed when he returns home and learns the cause of your journey."

"But I can't think of allowing you two to break up your afternoon on my account. I'm sure, when we reach Eastbourne, I shall see an array of golf clubs among your luggage."

"No," smiled Theydon. "My friend here refuses to play until he has seen something of the country. He knows that the golfer's vision is bounded by the nearest bunker."

Handyside took the cue.

"That's the exact position, Miss Forbes," he said. "I was warned by the horrible experience of a friend of mine. He left Newark, N. J., on a sightseeing tour of Europe, but unfortunately took his clubs with him. Now, if you ask him what he thought of Westminster Abbey or the Wye Valley he tells you he hadn't time to look 'em up, but that the fifth hole at Sandwich is a corker, while the thirteenth at St. Andrews has been known to restore the faculty of speech to a dumb man. You see, some poor mute had either to express his feelings or bust."

Evidently Miss Evelyn Forbes would not be allowed to mope during the run to Eastbourne.

As between Theydon and herself, the situation was curiously mixed. On the one hand, Theydon had now a remarkably close insight into the peril which threatened Forbes and each member of his family; the girl, on the other, knew well that her father was bound up in some way with the tragedy at No. 17 Innesmore Mansions.

Nevertheless, an open discussion was out of the question, and the two accepted cheerfully the limitations imposed by circumstances, so that the strangers in the compartment little suspected what grave issues lay behind an apparently casual meeting between a pretty girl and two men that summer's afternoon in the Eastbourne express.

The American played his part admirably. When not passing some caustically humorous comment on British ways and manners he was being even more critical of his fellow-countrymen.

As he himself put it, he guessed New York society was mighty like London society with the head cut off, and proved his contention with many wise saws and modern instances.

Thus the journey south passed pleasantly enough. When they alighted the girl reverted to the topic uppermost in her mind.

"You gentlemen will have to look after your luggage," she said. "I'm sure you will forgive me if I hurry to the hotel. If you come there, Mr. Theydon, I'll take care that I see you at once. It is exceedingly kind of you to bother with my affairs."

But Theydon had a scheme ready, having foreseen this very difficulty.

"Mr. Handyside will attend to everything," he said glibly. "Please let me come with you. I shan't have a moment's peace until assured that Mrs. Forbes is suffering from little more than a slight indisposition."

Evelyn looked puzzled, but was willing to agree to anything so long as she reached her mother quickly. Handyside, too, made matters easy by lifting his hat and walking off in the direction of the luggage van.

"Well," she said, "I really don't care what happens if only I lose no time."

Suiting the action to the word, she hurried toward the exit, and was murmuring something that sounded like an apology for her seeming brusqueness as they passed the ticket collector. Here a momentary difficulty arose. Theydon had forgotten to ask Handyside for his ticket. The girl, of course, had her own ticket, but her companion was not allowed to pass the barrier. He began an explanation to which a busy official paid no heed. In desperation, he produced a sovereign, and his card.

"Here," be said, "you can hold this as a guarantee that my ticket will be given up. This lady has been called to the bedside of her mother, who is said to be dangerously ill, and I simply must be allowed to take her to the Royal Devonshire Hotel."

Luckily, the railwayman had the wit to see. that this earnest-eyed passenger was speaking the truth.

"That's all right, sir," he said. "We have to be very particular about tickets, you know."

Evelyn Forbes was a few yards in advance, and impatiently awaiting her escort, when a gentleman approached and spoke to her.

"Miss Forbes, I believe," he said, raising his hat.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly, because the man's garb suggested, before he uttered another syllable, that be was a doctor. He had a curiously foreign aspect, and spoke with a pronounced lisp.

"I am assistant to Dr. Sinnett," he said, "and he has sent me to take you to the hotel. This is his car. Will you come, quick?"

He pointed to a smart limousine drawn up near the exit, and, in his eagerness to be polite, almost pushed the girl toward the open door. Insensibly, she resisted, and turned to explain matters to Theydon, who had just placated the Cerberus at the gate, and was running alter her.

"Mr. Theydon—" she began.

"There ith no time to wathe, I athure you," said Dr. Sinnett's assistant imperatively. At that instant Theydon came up. His temper was ruffled, and he did not scrutinize the doctor's appearance as closely as might be looked for in one who was actually on his guard against foul play.

"What is it now?" he asked.

"This gentleman has been sent by Dr. Sinnett to take me to the hotel," said Evelyn. "Now, Mr. Theydon, perhaps it will be better that you wait for Mr. Handyside and come on at your leisure."

"I'm a stiff-necked person," said Theydon, trying to smile unconcernedly. "I've made up my mind to see you safely to your destination, and I refuse to leave you on any account. I am sure the doctor will let me sit beside the chauffeur."

Then, for the first time, he glanced at the newcomer, and was almost stupefied to discover that the man, despite his faultless professional attire, was a Chinaman. Moreover, this Chinaman bore a livid scar down the left side of his face, and his eyes were set horizontally, a sure sign of Manchu descent, because all Southern Chinese have the oblique Mongolian eye. Though prepared for treachery of some kind, the very simplicity of this scheme almost disconcerted him, and he blurted out the first words that rose to his lips.

"Is your name Wong Li Fu?"

Half unconsciously, a hand dropped to the pocket containing the revolver. For answer, he was struck a violent blow in the throat and sent sprawling. The attack was so sudden that he was nearly unprepared for it— nearly, not quite, because a flicker of baffled spite in the dark eyes gave him the ghost of a warning.

It was fortunate that he saved himself by a slight backward flinching, since he learnt subsequently that his assailant was a master of jiu jitsu, and that vicious blow was intended to paralyze the nerves which cluster around the cricoid cartilage. Had he received the punch in its full force he would at least have been disabled for the remainder of the day, while there was some chance of the injury proving fatal.

The Chinaman instantly seized the terrified girl in an irresistible grip, and was about to thrust her into the automobile when a big, burly man flung himself into the fray and collared the desperado by neck and arm.

"Stop that!" he said authoritatively. "Let go that young lady or I'll shake the life out of you!"

By this time Theydon was on his feet again, and rushing to the assistance of Chief Inspector Winter, who seemed to have miraculously dropped from the skies at the right moment. The Chinaman, seeing that he was in imminent danger of capture, released Evelyn, wrenched himself free by another jiu jitsu trick, swung the girl into Winter's arms, thus impeding him, and leaped into the car, which made off with a rapidity that showed how thoroughly the chauffeur was in league with his principal.

Naturally, the people coming out from the station, reinforced by the mob of semi-loafers always in evidence in such localities, gathered in scores around Evelyn Forbes and her two protectors. Such an extraordinary scuffle was bound to attract a crowd; few had seen the commencement of the fray, because nothing could be more usual and commonplace in a fashionable place like Eastbourne than the sight of a frock-coated and top-hatted gentleman handing a well-dressed lady into a motor car.

The first general intimation of something bizarre and sensational was provided by Theydon's fall. After that, events traveled rapidly, and the majority of the onlookers imagined that it was Winter who had knocked Theydon off his balance, while the rush made by the latter to intercept Wong Li Fu was actually stopped by a well-intentioned railway porter.

Worst of all, Theydon was quite unable to speak. He indulged in valiant pantomime, and Winter fully understood that the Chinaman's escape should be prevented at all hazards. But the chief inspector accepted the inevitable.

The limousine was equipped with a powerful engine, and the only vehicles available for pursuit were some ancient horse-drawn cabs. He noted the number on the identification plate, and that was the limit of his resources for the moment.

Moreover, Evelyn Forbes, finding herself clutched tightly by a tall, stout man whom she had never seen before, was rather more indignant than hurt.

Disengaging herself from the detective's hands, she looked to Theydon for an explanation.

"Has everybody suddenly gone mad?" she said vehemently. "What is the meaning of this? Did you know who that man was? And why did he try to force me into the car?"

Theydon, slowly regaining his breath, stammered brokenly that he would make things clear in a minute or so. Then he gasped to Winter:

"That is Wong Li Fu— the man wanted— at No. 17!"

"We'll get him all right," was the grimly curt answer. "Meanwhile, are you and Miss Forbes going to the hotel?"

Hardly less surprising than Winter's appearance on the scene was his seeming knowledge of the purpose of their journey.

"We must get out of this," he went on, gazing around wrathfully at the ring of curious faces. "Here, you!" he cried, singling out a policeman who was forcing a passage through the crowd, "clear away this mob and get us a cab!"

The policeman seemed inclined to resent the masterful directions, but a word whispered in his ear when he reached Winter acted like magic, and he soon had the gapers scattered.

A cab was called, and Evelyn Forbes was already inside when Theydon remembered the American. He looked around, but could see nothing of him.

"Where is— Mr. Handyside?" he said, still finding a good deal of difficulty in articulating his words.

"Is that the man who came with you from London?" inquired Winter.

"Yes. He's— an American."

"Well, he may have been scared, and made a bee-line for the States. He is not anywhere in sight."

"O, please, Mr. Theydon, do let us go to the hotel," pleaded Evelyn. She was pale, and yielding to reaction after the excitement of the fracas.

Unwillingly, since he was certain now that there was absolutely no ground for the girl's alarm on her mother's account— at any rate, so far as illness was concerned— Theydon entered the cab, and Winter followed.

"The first thing to do," said the chief inspector, when they were en route, "is to assure this young lady, whom I take to be Miss Forbes, that she has probably been brought to Eastbourne by a lying telegram, and that her mother is quite well in health. Secondly, why should Wong Li Fu be described as the man wanted in the Innesmore Mansions inquiry; and, thirdly, how does Mr. Handyside come into the picture?"

"I can't— talk— just yet," wheezed Theydon hoarsely. "In a few minutes— I'll— tell you everything."

Evelyn had not realized earlier that her self-appointed champion had been seriously hurt. She was deeply concerned, and wanted to take him straight to the nearest doctor.

But he smiled and essayed to calm her fears by whispering that he would soon be fully recovered. It was pleasant to know that he had succeeded in rescuing her from some indefinable though none the less deadly peril, yet the insistent question in his subconscious mind was not connected with Evelyn's escape, or the flight of her assailant, or the mysterious presence of the chief inspector, but with the vanishing of Mr. Handyside.

What had become of him? It was the maddest of fantasies to imagine that he could be bound up in some way with the Young Manchus. Yet why did he fail to turn up at the station?

Theydon could not even guess at a plausible explanation. He leaned back in the cab and closed his eyes. Really, there were times in life when it would be a relief to faint!

CHAPTER X

CAPTURES ON BOTH SIDES

Though Theydon was in first-rate athletic trim, that blow on the throat had nearly stunned him. The effort to rise promptly and bear a hand in the imminent capture of one whom he regarded as something akin to a homicidal maniac had imposed a further strain on his resources, and it was possible that he did actually lose his senses during a couple of seconds.

In all likelihood, too, he changed color slightly, because the next thing he was aware of was the note of alarm in Evelyn's voice when she cried excitedly:

"Mr. Theydon is really very ill. I'm sure we ought to try and revive him."

At that he reopened his eyes and looked at her whimsically. Nature, in fact, had put forth a supreme effort; from that moment he recovered rapidly.

Winter took a calmly professional view of the younger man's collapse.

"There's nothing to worry about, Miss Forbes," he assured the agitated girl. "Our friend has just escaped being knocked insensible, if not killed. He was hardly prepared for such a vicious attack, I fancy. Most certainly that scoundrel took me by surprise, or he would not have slipped through my fingers like an eel. Next time, either Mr. Theydon or I may be trusted to balance matters."

Theydon grinned and nodded. He signaled with his eyes that Winter was to make Evelyn Forbes understand that she had just escaped being the victim of an extraordinary outrage. Muddled as his thoughts were, he grasped the essential fact that Scotland Yard was better posted in the secret history of the Innesmore Mansions crime than he had given the department credit for before the dramatic meeting with Furneaux that morning.

And, indeed, the chief inspector lost no time in justifying that belief.

"You must have imagined that the world had suddenly turned topsy-turvy," he said, smiling at the mystified and distraught Evelyn, as though the whirl of events outside the station were part and parcel of the humdrum routine of life. "When Mr. Theydon regains his speech he will tell us how he came to suspect that an attempt would be made to kidnap you today. In my own case, intervention was the outcome of sheer and simple logical deduction. You see, I represent the Criminal Investigation Department— or Scotland Yard, as it is familiarly described— and I have reason to believe that your father is, and has been for some time, the object of unpleasant attentions by a political society in China, whose members are nothing more nor less than criminal fanatics. Probably this is the first you have heard of the matter, Miss Forbes. Your father would wish, no doubt, to keep any such disquieting knowledge from you and your mother. But the policy of concealment must cease now. Today's daring attack is a warning. Other efforts may be forthcoming. If you are to be protected efficiently the police must have your loyal cooperation. I admit candidly that I myself, with all my experience, was taken off my guard a few minutes ago. If Mr. Theydon had not delayed that Chinaman— whose name he has got hold of from Mr. Forbes, I expect— I don't think I could have reached you in time."

"Is that the meaning of the little ivory skull which my father received at breakfast this morning?" said Evelyn, breathlessly.

Winter's eyes twinkled. No question could have thrown a more vivid light into the somber depths of a crime which promised to transcend in interest and importance any similar occurrence in Great Britain during the previous decade.

"Doubtless," he said. "Of course, I have not yet seen Mr. Forbes, but we have a mine of information here," and he laid a friendly hand on Theydon's arm. "So far as I am concerned, I have had your house unobtrusively watched— for the protection of the inmates, I hope you understand— and I arranged also that anything unusual in the shape of telegrams or telephonic messages"— here he glanced amusedly at Theydon— "should be communicated to the Yard. I heard, therefore, of Mrs. Forbes's sudden illness almost as soon as you did, and traveled with you to Eastbourne, intending to reach the hotel at the same time as you, and ascertain whether or not your mother was really ill. I saw you on the platform at Victoria and guessed your identity. But, in my profession, we never take anything for granted, so I left that matter until I could interview the hotel manager. And here we are. I advise you not to say a word about Mrs. Forbes being ill. If, as I firmly believe, you find that she is in the best of health, you can explain your sudden visit by saying that Mr. Theydon and I have something of importance to communicate, which will be perfectly accurate, as I mean to urge strongly that we all return to London by the next train."

The cab stopped. To show that "Richard was himself again" Theydon, nearest the door, opened it, got out, and helped Evelyn to alight.

Reassured on his account, the girl smiled, and a wave of color leaped to her cheeks. Any one happening to watch their arrival would put them down as ordinary visitors. Evelyn Forbes was just a charming young woman, plainly but expensively dressed; Theydon an attentive cavalier, and Winter a prosperous city man, probably with a taste for coursing and pheasant shooting.

Subtly observant, indeed, would be the theorist who gathered from their demeanor that they had just emerged practically unscathed from a situation rife with the elements of tragedy.

Nevertheless, Winter kept a sharp eye on Theydon after Evelyn Forbes had run up the steps of the hotel, and was relieved at seeing that he could walk without assistance.

"Keep nothing back," he said under his breath as they followed the girl with sedater pace. "These women must be frightened into complete obedience. Did Furneaux get hold of Forbes?"

Theydon nodded.

"That's right. Don't talk. I can pretty well guess what took place. But, look here. Who's Handyside— a mere acquaintance?"

Another nod.

"You just contrived to pick him up, and used him as an excuse for coming to Eastbourne? I see. That removes a troublesome pawn off the chessboard."

"But it doesn't," wheezed Theydon. "He ought to be here. Can't make out— what has become of him."

"He will turn up— an American, isn't he? I thought so. The indications were slight but certain— features, walk, figure. You can buy clothes, but the genuine citizen of God's own country is as distinct a type as a Highlander— all wool and a yard wide."

Inside the hotel they came on Evelyn Forbes talking to the manager. She hailed them at once.

"Mother has gone to Beachy Head," she cried. "She and her friends are expected home about six o'clock. Shall we have some tea? There is no use in following her. She will be starting back before we could get there."

"Mrs. Forbes is quite well, I hope?" put in Winter, casually.

"Yes, sir, in the best of health," said the manager, indicating, with a flourish of both hands, that nothing else was to be expected as to the condition of any among the numerous patrons of the Royal Devonshire Hotel.

Evelyn asked that tea should be served in her mother's sitting room. When they were screened by the closed door Winter examined Theydon's throat. Beyond a slight swelling and external soreness, the cricoid cartilage— known to the multitude as Adam's apple— was seemingly uninjured, while Theydon himself now made light of the blow, though a certain hoarseness was perceptible in his voice, and he deemed it advisable to speak in a low-pitched tone.

Evelyn Forbes listened with ill-repressed bewilderment while he related the day's doings. At first, she hardly grasped the significance of the story, but Winter's occasional questions and comments, and a parenthetical sentence or two introduced by Theydon for her benefit, quickly revealed the astounding nature of the plot of which her father was the chief object.

At this crisis she displayed a self-control and reticence which were admirable. She seemed to realize intuitively that any gaps in the recital could be filled in later, whereas it was all-important that the detective should be made acquainted as speedily as possible with the developments brought about by the morning's fuller disclosures.

As for Winter, he was keenly interested in Furneaux's behavior at the moment of Forbes's departure from Innesmore Mansions. Glancing at his watch, he rose when Theydon's revelations came to an end.

"I'll just go and ring up the Yard," he said. "There may be news. When Furneaux starts off in full cry it is a wary fox that escapes him. I only wish you and I had traveled from Victoria in company, Mr. Theydon; Wong Li Fu would now have been in custody. However, we'll get him. If, as I imagine, he is making for London in that car, there is even a chance of intercepting him in the suburbs. I'll see to it."

Left alone with Evelyn Forbes, Theydon suddenly grew tongue-tied. This man who could invent all manner of glib conversation for the characters in his novels now cudgeled his brains vainly for something to say that would dwell in her memory when they parted. And he knew why a cloud was thus effectually befogging his wits. He had only seen Evelyn three times in as many days, had spoken to her but twice, yet was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her.

He, who had so often and so thrillingly described the grand passion of a man's life, had now fallen a victim to it, only to feel how unutterably ridiculous and impossible was the wild longing that had sprung up in his heart. Here, by his side, wistfully sympathetic and friendly in manner, sat the "one woman in the world," yet he felt awkward and constrained, and took refuge in a vague expression of anxiety on behalf of Handyside, a man who at least might be trusted to extricate himself safely from the labyrinth of Eastbourne!

The girl, of course, attributed these disjointed remarks to physical suffering. In reality, he was contrasting her wealth and his own comparative poverty, and bidding himself fiercely not to be a vain fool!

"Don't you think you ought to call in a doctor?" she inquired, tenderly.

"No, no," he hastened to assure her. "The effects of the blow are passing rapidly. In another hour I shall hardly feel it at all. I'm afraid, Miss Forbes," he ventured to add, "that when this piratical gang is broken up, as certainly will be the case now that the English police are tackling it, you will associate our brief acquaintance with the only dark days in your existence."

"Why do you say that?" she demanded.

"Because I am bound to admit that if I had not dined at your house on Monday evening, many, if not all, of the amazing events of the past thirty-six hours could not have happened."

"I don't agree with you— not one little bit," she protested emphatically. "Why, the detective-man himself said that the Young Manchus have been searching ever since the beginning of the year for proof of Dad's connection with the revolutionaries, and he was candid enough to tell us that if it hadn't been for you that horrid Wong Li Fu would have got me into the car. No, Mr. Theydon, our meeting has proved most fortunate for me. Suppose I had really been captured! Would he have gagged me and taken me away to some lonely place, where I would be kept a prisoner, or even killed?"

Theydon had no desire that her mind should dwell on such a harrowing topic. He shuddered to think of her fate if ever she fell into the hands of the miscreants who had not scrupled to murder Mrs. Lester. She evidently regarded the crime in No. 17 Innesmore Mansions as the sequel to some political disturbance in far-off Shanghai. It had not occurred to her that a hapless woman had been done to death merely as a warning to her father of the fate in store for him and his if he did not yield to the demand of the reactionary party in China, and deliver over to their vengeance some hundreds of the leading men in that distressed country.

"I doubt whether Wong Li Fu and his associates would have dared to offer you any real violence," he said. "At the worst, I suppose, they might have retained you as a hostage."

"A hostage for what?"

"For their claim against Mr. Forbes."

"But what has he done? He has never been in China."

"He is a power in the financial world. If the reform party cannot borrow money the movement will collapse. At any rate that is what the Manchus believe, and they will strain every nerve to effect their purpose."

"But why did they kill poor Mrs. Lester?"

Theydon felt that he was getting into deep water. This clear-sighted girl would soon have the various threads of the enigma in her hands, and then she could not fail but discover the true meaning of Edith Lester's death.

"That phase of the problem has yet to be solved," was his noncommittal reply.

Winter rejoined them somewhat hurriedly. He looked puzzled and rather irritated.

"Furneaux has made an arrest," he said. "A Chinaman, described as Len Shi, is lodged in the cells at Bow Street, on a charge of being concerned in the Innesmore Mansions murder. Furneaux is out, and that is all they know at the Yard. What I cannot understand is why no inquiry has been made by telephone or otherwise concerning Miss Forbes's flight to Eastbourne."

The words had hardly left his mouth when the bell of a telephone on the table jangled. The coincidence was so peculiar that Winter laughed.

"Some other person shares my opinion, I fancy," he said. "May I answer, Miss Forbes?"

"Please do," said the girl, and the chief inspector lifted the receiver from its hook.

"Trunk call from London; you're through," announced the hotel operator. After a slight pause, an agitated voice said: "Is that you, Evelyn?""Miss Forbes is here," said Winter. "Who is speaking?"

"Her father," was the reply.

"Oh, I'm Chief Inspector Winter of Scotland Yard. Your daughter is quite safe, Mr. Forbes. Mr. Theydon and I accompanied her from London. She will speak to you in an instant. Would you mind telling me what happened at one o'clock, when my colleague, Mr. Furneaux, jumped on to your car and went in pursuit of some one?"

"First, is Mrs. Forbes there, too?"

"She is out with a picnic party on Beachy Head. We expect her back before six o'clock. I propose bringing her and Miss Forbes to London tonight. They will be safer in your house than in Eastbourne, as you will probably agree when you hear what a narrow escape your daughter had this afternoon from being kidnaped by Wong Li Fu."

"Great Heavens! Evelyn in danger from that scoundrel!"

"Yes. But all is well, believe me. Owing to Mr. Theydon's promptitude and pertinacity, Wong Li Fu's scheme was defeated. Your daughter will make everything clear. Give me the barest summary of events after your departure from Innesmore Mansions, and I'll get out of the way."

"We pursued a car which led us a pretty dance nearly as far as St. Albans. It seems that Mr. Furneaux, looking out of the window of Mr. Theydon's flat while Theydon and I were going downstairs, saw a Chinaman watching us from a closed car standing in the cross street at the end of the garden. He gave chase instantly, but as soon as the man realized that he had attracted notice he tried to escape. At least, that was Mr. Furneaux's first impression. Later, he convinced himself that the supposed spy was little more than a red herring drawn across the trail, and that the man's real motive was to take me out of London, or waylay or detain me in some fashion, since it was manifestly impossible that my presence in the Mansions should be known to any one. I see now, of course, what the project was. If, as I gather from you, an attempt was to be made to capture my daughter on arriving at Eastbourne, it was all-important for the conspirators that I should not know of her absence from home until after the arrival of the train, so that I could not communicate with the hotel and take measures to protect her. But that explanation was hidden from Mr. Furneaux, and the first glimpse of it vouchsafed to me was when I reached my office and was horrified to learn that she had gone away without my knowledge. However, in a desperate matter like this, I must not waste time by describing my agony and foreboding. As I have said, by some phenomenal method of reasoning beyond my comprehension, Mr. Furneaux did arrive at a sound conclusion. I suppose he was alive to the ridiculous aimlessness of the race across country. My car is powerful and speedy, but the Chinaman had a thoroughly up-to-date conveyance, too, and drove without paying the least heed to traffic conditions."

"There was only one man, then?"

"Yes. Didn't I make that clear? Perhaps not. But there can hardly be any doubt that this fellow was alone, and acting as a sort of scout or vedette. We had the utmost difficulty in following him along Oxford Street, and I am sure that my chauffeur has been reported by a score of constables on point duty for exceeding the speed limit and disregarding signals to halt. To come to the material facts, the chase took us up the Edgware road. We tore along at a tremendous rate after passing the Welsh Harp. Overhaul the fellow we could not, until on the outskirts of St. Albans, when he deliberately slowed up, as though to allow us to pass. Mr. Furneaux flew at him like a terrier grappling a rat, but the man made no resistance. He is undoubtedly a Chinaman, though attired in a chauffeur's livery, and he could handle a car in first-rate style, too. His pidgin English was difficult to understand, and Mr. Furneaux shared my view that he did not try to render himself intelligible. We gathered that he was obeying his master's orders in trying the car, a new one, before purchase, but Furneaux bundled him off to the nearest police station, borrowed handcuffs and brought him back to London, leaving the car in a garage at St. Albans. That is a bald but accurate summary of the facts. I dropped Mr. Furneaux and his prisoner at Bow Street and was on the way to my city office, when I suddenly felt faint for want of food, as I ate hardly any breakfast this morning, and only drank a cup of coffee in Mr. Theydon's place. So I returned to the Carlton, where I met a friend, a business associate, who remained for a chat while I had a meal. This trivial accident prevented me from telephoning to my house, though, naturally, I had no misgivings as to my daughter's well-being. Even then I was detained unduly, because my friend and I went to another office in the city, and two more hours elapsed before I reached my own place. Then, and not until then, did I hear of Evelyn's journey and its cause."

"Thank you, Mr. Forbes," said Winter quietly. "We seem to have made a forward move today. Before calling Miss Evelyn to the phone I want to tell you that in disobeying your orders to remain at home she did my department a good turn. Wong Li Fu and I were brought face to face. He is not a myth."

"My word might be regarded as sufficient proof of that fact."

"Certainly, Mr. Forbes, if given earlier," was the inevitable retort. "But here is your daughter. She can plead her cause far better than I."

Evelyn took the woman's way. To defend she attacked.

"Dad, dear," she complained, "why didn't you give me your confidence? If I had had the least notion of the dreadful things that were going on I should certainly have telephoned to Eastbourne before starting. But don't you see the diabolical cleverness of the scheme? The telegram arrived just in time to allow me to catch the 1:25 p. m. train, and rendering it idle to think of making a trunk call if I would obey an urgent message from my mother. Then again, when I reached Eastbourne, why should I suspect a foreign-looking gentleman who said Dr. Sinnett had sent his car to take me to the hotel? There isn't a Dr. Sinnett in Eastbourne at this date, but how was I to know that? Of course, both you and I have suffered a good deal, each in a different way, but all is well that ends well, and I shall have such a lot to tell you when we meet tonight.... What time? I don't know yet. I'll wire or phone when mother returns and we settle about the train. Goodby, darling! See you don't go anywhere alone until I come back."

For some reason Winter's manner was not so placid as usual. He looked so obviously perplexed and troubled that Theydon, searching for a cause, suddenly remembered that the chief inspector was a great smoker.

"Won't you have a cigar?" he said; "that is, unless Miss Forbes has any objection?"

"Me!" cried the girl. "I don't object in the least."

But the Royal Devonshire Hotel's best Havana did not wholly banish the frown from Winter's forehead. More than once he glanced at his watch and consulted a time table. At last he voiced one of his anxieties.

"What can have become of that American?" he said. "He knew what hotel you were making for?"

"Oh, yes," cried the others in chorus.

They laughed. Quite a cheerful air possessed two members of the little party, at any rate.

"Perhaps he has forgotten the name?" went on Evelyn.

"Americans never forget the names of hotels, or railway stations, or steamers," said Winter. "The average Englishman can tell you what will win the Derby, but the average American will be a good deal more accurate concerning next Saturday's mail steamer.... So, I frankly confess it— that man's prolonged absence supplies a riddle which I can't answer. What do you say if we give a look along the front? He may be shy, though I told the hall porter that any inquirer was to be shown up at once."

No; Mr. Handyside was not to be seen on Eastbourne's spacious marine promenade. A couple of well-dressed men caught sight of Winter, and decided that they had instant and urgent business elsewhere, But he only smiled. His quarry that day was not the swell mobsman, but much more dangerous game.

Lightning darted from a summer sky when the picnic party returned from Beachy Head in three cars, but without Mrs. Forbes.

Evelyn was hardly anxious at first. The hall porter informed her who the occupants of the cars were, and she watched the lively and chattering groups forming on the pavement and breaking up again to enter the hotel and dress for dinner.

At last, realizing that her mother was not among them, she singled out a lady whom she knew, and asked for an explanation. The lady, a Mrs. Montagu, was very much surprised.

"But, my dear Evelyn," she said, "didn't you yourself send for your mother?"

The girl blanched. Some premonition of evil gripped her very heart.

"What do you mean?" she said, and the other woman could not help noting the distress in her voice.

"If you didn't send, who did?" came the immediate response. "We were just going to have tea when a gentleman, a stranger, came and asked for Mrs. Forbes. We saw him arrive in a car which halted at the foot of the path— nearly a quarter of a mile away. Your mother answered, and he said that you were in Eastbourne, and had sent him to bring you to the hotel. He said the car belonged to a Doctor Somebody, but he himself looked like a foreigner."

A few others had gathered around, attracted by Evelyn Forbes's pallor and distress; Winter, too, had drawn near, and it was he who said:

"Did you see this stranger who brought the message?"

"O yes, plainly," said Mrs. Montagu.

"Had he a scar down the left side of his face?"

"Yes."

Then Evelyn Forbes, for the first time in her vigorous young life, fainted. Her mother was in the power of Wong Li Fu. All the terrors which imagination had painted in her own behalf were redoubled as to her mother's fate. Her brain reeled. Merciful oblivion came. Theydon and Winter were just able to catch her before she fell like a log.

CHAPTER XI

THE REAPPEARANCE OF HANDYSIDE

Consternation reigned for a while at the entrance to the Royal Devonshire. Men craned their necks and women uttered nervous little shrieks. But Evelyn Forbes was endowed with a vigorous frame and a splendidly vital spirit, and she recovered her senses before she could be carried into the vestibule.

The fact that she had fainted, too, brought to the aid of her waking senses the innate horror of her race and class for anything approaching a "scene," and she was almost unnaturally collected in speech and demeanor within a few seconds after her eyes had reopened.

"Did I give way like that?" she said, with a valiant smile, first at Theydon, and then at the ring of faces, each with its varying expression of curiosity or concern. "How stupid of me! How excessively stupid! That sort of behavior doesn't help at all— does it?

Thank you, I can walk quite well.. I'll just go to mother's room and telephone home.... There has been some silly mistake. By this time it will be rectified, I'm sure.... Come, Mr. Theydon. Where is Mr. Winter?"

"Here," said the detective. "I'll follow in a minute or so. Please don't communicate with London till I arrive."

His quietly insistent tone was meant rather for Theydon than for the half-demented girl, who was stumbling anywhere but in the right direction until Theydon caught her arm and led her to the lift. She contrived to remain outwardly calm until she reached the seclusion of the sitting room, when she broke into a flood of tears, while in disjointed and hysterical words she blamed her own rashness for the fate which had overtaken her mother.

If only she had used better judgment when the telegram came— if only she had hired an automobile and driven straight to Beachy Head— if only she had done a dozen other things which no one would possibly have dreamed of doing— she might have safeguarded her darling mother!

Theydon, meanwhile, was nearly frantic with the indecision of ignorance. Never had he felt so helpless, so utterly childish and unhinged in the face of disaster. He had heard that it was good for a woman to be allowed to cry when overwhelmed with misery. Again, he remembered reading somewhere that the feminine temperament should not be allowed to yield to a too-tempestuous grief, or the delicate and finely-balanced female organism might suffer irreparable injury. Should she be given water or a stimulant? Should one leave her alone or endeavor to soothe her?

Heaven only knew— he didn't— so he did exactly what any devout and despairing lover might be expected to do— put an arm around her shoulders, and murmured a frenzied assurance of his willingness to die several times, and vanquish a horde of Young Manchus in the process, ere she could be allowed to endure one needless hour of distress on her mother's account.

Somehow, this sort of nonsense was helpful. The girl raised her swimming eyes to his. She placed two appealing hands on his shoulders, and said brokenly:

"Mr. Theydon— I am ready to trust you— next to— my own father.... Where shall we go? What can we do? I'll come with you— anywhere— only— my dear one must be rescued."

He believed afterwards that he answered her by a kiss! He was not certain. The delirium of the moment was such that he could never recall its words or acts with that precision which a well-regulated mind should display even under the stress of intense emotion. In any event, the crisis was interrupted by the clamor of the telephone bell.

Withdrawing from what was perilously near an embrace— so colorable an imitation of the real thing that Winter, entering at that instant, could make no distinction, and was secretly amazed at these strenuous methods of consoling the lady— Theydon lifted the receiver, and heard as one in a trance the telephone operator's conventional announcement:

"Trunk call from Croydon; you're through."

"Who is it?" demanded the chief inspector gruffly.

Even he, veteran fighter in the unceasing battle between the law and the malefactor, was feeling the strain of the Homeric struggle ushered in by the death of Edith Lester.

"I don't know yet," Theydon managed to say collectedly. "Some one from Croydon. Bend close. You'll hear."

A quiet, drawling voice reached them, the vibrating wire lending its measured accents a metallic accuracy.

"That you, Mr. Theydon?"

"Why, it's Mr. Handyside! Yes, I'm here. Where are you speaking from? Croydon?"

"That's so."

"Well, I don't understand, but I'm sure you'll pardon me. We are in a deuce of a fix at this end, so, if you'll arrange to call tomorrow—"

"You've lost Mrs. Forbes, I guess. Is that the lady's name? If it is, I've kept track of her. I—"

Theydon was so astounded that he looked at Winter in blank amazement, the pressure of his fingers on the circuit key relaxed, and the American's voice trailed abruptly away into silence. He put matters right at once and heard the continuation of a new sentence, whereupon he broke in excitedly:

"One second, Mr. Handyside. Miss Forbes is here. I must tell her your news!"

He turned to Evelyn.

"Hooray!" he almost yelled. "Your mother is all right. She is with Mr. Handyside. Some sort of miracle has happened. Come and listen."

Aroused from a stupor of grief as though she had received a galvanic shock, Evelyn sprang up. Naturally, she had to place an arm on Theydon's back to permit of her head approaching near enough to the telephone. Thus, the three heads were almost touching each other; if an artist had been present he would have obtained a study in facial expressions worthy of Phil May or Guerrido.

Handyside, of course, had heard Theydon's gleeful exclamation. He chuckled pleasantly:

"Your digest goes a little too far, Mr. Theydon," he said, "but compared with the newspaper placard facts in your possession, my story is a full-sized novel. Anyhow, I'll condense it, so here goes. I was back of the crowd when the circus started outside the Eastbourne depot. As I ante'd up your ticket and collected your deposit of a sovereign, I saw what took place, and sized up the result pretty accurately. The kidnaping proposition had failed, but the guy in the silk hat had got clear away in a bully good car— how good I know now. It seemed to me that, next to rescuing that charming young lady, it was important something should be known about the thug who wanted to carry her off, and, when my eyes lit on a workmanlike motor bicycle with a side-car rig standing close to the curb, and well clear of the arena, said I to myself: 'George T. Handyside, this is where you take a flier, and maybe Illinois will score one.' The man who owned the outfit was watching the commotion when I dug him in the ribs. 'Take me after that car,' I said, 'and I'll pay you a shilling a mile with five pounds on account if it's only a 100 yards.' I pressed a note into his hand— and, say, you Britishers wake up all right when you see real money! We were doing thirty per in less than ten seconds. No car on four wheels can lose any decent motorcycle on a switchback track, and Jackson, the owner of this one, says it's good enough for sixty on a fair stretch of road. Anyhow, we held the thug dead easy, but didn't press him any, as I had no call to butt in, had I?"

"Mr. Handyside," said Theydon. "I won't waste time now by telling you how grateful we all are. Get on with the knitting!"

"Sir, I've had the time of my life— a rip-snorting movie, with George T. on the film from A to Z... No! Go away, exchange. I'm renting this line for the next quarter of an hour. Well, we made a bee-line for Beachy Head— so Jackson told me— and, when the automobile pulled up, we got under a hedge and I did a bit of scout work on my feet. I saw Silk Hat pick out a lady from a bunch of people, who seemed to be taking the view with sandwiches, and it was simple as falling off a log to follow the position of affairs— Silk Hat urging lady to come with him, lady astonished, not able to size up exact bearings of the yarn, but finally yielding. Now, if Miss Forbes hadn't told us that her mother had written saying she was going to Beachy Head with a picnic party this afternoon I would have gotten off at the wrong address, because I could hardly have failed to believe that Silk Hat was picking up a female accomplice. But, as things stood, I suspicioned that, failing the daughter, he was putting up a bunco tale for the mother— a situation new, I believe, in the realm of romantic fiction. I thought it was up to me to play a strong hand, so I threw a few facts on the screen for Jackson's benefit, and he straightway hit the pike in pursuit. Where the country was open we kept well in the rear, but crept closer in villages and towns. We had to stop at Tunbridge Wells for petrol, but that didn't cut any ice, because Jackson knew the country like a book, and we sighted the automobile within five minutes, though the milestones were pretty numerous during that run. After that, nothing particularly happened, except to a hen and a dog, until we came near Croydon— that is, I knew it was Croydon because Jackson said so, and I have considerable faith in him. In between whiles, where there was nothing doing, he and I fixed up an automobile tour. Well, outside Croydon, there's a new road, with a half-built villa at the near end and a way-back farmhouse at the other end. That villa was the one thing needed when the thug made a bee-line for the farm. I jumped out, told Jackson to find something to do to his machine at the corner of the next block, and hurried into the Alpine chalet. From a top back room I watched Silk Hat carrying a lady into the farm. Eh, what's that? Yes, he was carrying her. I guess he'd given her a dope so as to stop any cry for help. It made me feel pretty mean to be standing there without taking a hand in the deal, but I forced myself to believe that another hour or two couldn't make such a heap of difference to the lady, while it would be better to leave things to the police. I waited just twenty minutes— I have all the times scheduled— until the car came back. By hurrying downstairs I was able to look inside as it passed, and Silk Hat was alone. He took the London road. I strolled out— didn't dare to hurry, you know, in case any one might be watching from the farm— and put in some hard thinking while walking to Jackson's stand. There were two courses open, either to send Jackson after the auto and try myself to get in touch with you and the police, or put Jackson on guard near the farm. Whether I decided rightly or not I haven't a notion, but I let the car go, and for this reason: We know where the lady is, and so does the thug; if the police put up a hard game they can rescue her without his knowledge and spread a web for the fly to walk into later. But they must get a move on. This phone is nearly a mile from the farm, and Jackson is tightening nuts outside the villa I spoke of. Now, what's the next item on the program?"

Winter grabbed the receiver unceremoniously.

"I am a representative of Scotland Yard, Mr. Handyside," he said. "If ever you want work come to me, J. L. Winter, and I'll find you some. Miss Forbes is vexed with me because I have stopped her from thanking you, but compliments must wait. Will you go as quickly as possible to the chief police station at Croydon? By the time you get there I'll be in touch with the inspector in charge, and he will do the rest. You understand? Goodby!"

Winter rang off. He smiled blandly at Evelyn.

"There's no opportunity now for sentiment," he explained. "Our American friend will appreciate quick action far more than talk."

Then he tackled the telephone again and asked to be put through to the Croydon police station.

"There must be no delay," he added. "This is an official call."

He was in touch with Croydon in a remarkably short space of time, and soon was in communication with a police inspector.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Inspector Wilkins," came the surprised answer.

"Were you a sergeant at the time of the Surrey Bank robbery?"

"Yes; but what the—"

"I am Winter of Scotland Yard. Do you recognize my voice?"

"Well— er—"

"Do you remember that nip of old brandy I gave you while we were freezing in a drafty warehouse at three o'clock in the morning waiting for the Smasher to come for his plant?"

"Yes. You're Mr. Winter right enough, sir."

"Good! I want you to believe what I'm going to tell you, as there is a big job ahead. A gang of Chinese cutthroats have kidnaped a lady, wife of the London banker, Mr. James Creighton Forbes. In a few minutes an American, a Mr. Handyside, will be with you. He will point out the house near Croydon to which the lady has been taken in a motor car. Collect half a dozen plain-clothes men and two in uniform and go with Mr. Handyside— without attracting attention, of course. Surround the house and arrest any one, especially any Chinaman, who attempts to leave. Release the lady, and ask Mr. Handyside to escort her to her home, 11 Fortescue Square, Belgravia. If she is very ill, which is improbable, she should be taken to a hospital. In that event Mr. Handyside should telephone Mr. Forbes. Occupy the farm and arrest any one who comes there, no matter what the pretext, until Mr. Furneaux or I arrive. I'll be with you in two hours. Tell Mrs. Forbes that her daughter will set out from Eastbourne by the next train leaving after 6:30. Got all that?"

"Yes, sir! Are these Chinamen likely to show fight?"

"Better be prepared. But, after posting your sentries, I advise you and the uniformed constables to rush the place. By the way, it will save me some trouble if you phone the Yard and tell them exactly what I have told you. Ask for Furneaux. If he is not in, instruct them to leave a written record for him."

"I'll see to it, sir. Is that all?"

"Yes. Goodby! Meet you in two hours."

He whirled round on Theydon.

"Tell the manager to supply at once the best car to be had in Eastbourne for love or money," he said. "I want something that is sure to go and go fast."

The chief inspector, with full steam up, was energy personified. His bulging eyes, his firm chin, his round fists, one clenching the telephone instrument, the other resting on the table, were eloquent of the man of action.

His pride had been sore stricken by the escape of Wong Li Fu when that master scoundrel was actually in his grasp. But those powerful hands of his were far-reaching, and it would go hard with the jiu-jitsu expert when next they gripped his lithe frame.

Almost before Theydon had quitted the room Winter snapped— there is no other word for it— literally snapped a question at Evelyn.

"What's your telephone number?"

She told him, and again the Eastbourne exchange was bidden exert itself.

"That you, Mr. Forbes?" said the chief inspector, after a short wait.

"Yes."

"I am Winter, of Scotland Yard. I want to assure you that your wife and daughter will be under your roof within the next three hours. Mrs. Forbes will probably be escorted by a gentleman named Handyside, an American. You owe him all possible thanks, because it is due to his action alone that Mrs. Forbes will soon be rescued from captivity. Yes, she was carried off from Beachy Head this afternoon by Wong Li Fu, but, by the rarest good fortune, this Mr. Handyside, a friend of Mr. Theydon's, was able to follow on the trail, and steps are now being taken to free her. Your daughter will speak to you. I intervened merely to vouch for it that an almost incredible story is true. By the way, let no one know that Mrs. Forbes is in London. Warn your servants not to speak of her return. One more word— have you heard anything of Furneaux?"

"I have not heard from or seen him since we parted outside Bow Street police station. But, for Heaven's sake, what is this you tell me about my wife?"

"Miss Forbes will give you all the particulars we possess. Be calm and remain at home. You can best assist us by stopping within call. Mrs. Forbes and the American should arrive first, possibly before 7:30. If there is any hitch, which is unlikely, Mr. Handyside will telephone you. Your daughter will tell you the hour she and Mr. Theydon should reach Victoria. She will speak to you now. Excuse my abruptness. A lot of things may happen before I retire for the night, and I have no time to pick and choose my words."

Evelyn, able at last to pour out her soul in thanksgiving, nearly broke down when she heard her father's voice.

"Oh, Dad," she wailed, "I've passed through a dreadful time since I spoke to you shortly after five o'clock. I dropped as if I had been shot when Mrs. Montagu, who was one of the picnic party, told me that a man of foreign appearance, with a scar on the left side of his face, and who said he was a doctor, came to Beachy Head and told poor mother that I had sent for her."

She went on to relate such facts as were known to her, and was in the midst of a sensational narrative when Theydon announced that a high-powered touring car was in readiness.

"Won't you take us with you?" he said to Winter. "There is no train from here till 7:30, and in a motor we should be well on the way to London by that time."

Winter had anticipated some such request, and a prompt refusal was on the tip of his tongue, when he recalled that he would pass through Tunbridge Wells, whence an earlier train might be available. A glance at the time table showed that a train left Tunbridge Wells at 7:15.

"Yes," he said. "I'll take you part of the way. Tell your father, Miss Forbes, that you will arrive at London Bridge at 8:40. If you two reach London by a different route I think you should be tolerably safe."

"If any Chinaman shows up between here and Fortescue Square I'll shoot him at sight," Theydon said, producing an automatic pistol.

"I wouldn't do that," smiled Winter. "You might bore a hole in some perfectly innocent Celestial. But you won't be troubled. Wong Li Fu carries out his own plans, and at present he is congratulating himself on the possession of a valuable hostage. But, come along! How about a wrap for you, Miss Forbes? We'll create a breeze, you know."

She ran into her mother's bedroom and came out with a fur coat and motor veil, articles which, she had guessed correctly, her mother would not be wearing for the short run to Beachy Head. The hotel manager lent coats to the men, and they started, not without hearty congratulations from several people in the porch, whose fears on Mrs. Forbes's account Theydon had dissipated when he went out to order the car.

Winter gave their thoughts a new direction when Theydon inquired what means the authorities would adopt to rid the country of the pestiferous gang which carried on its vendetta with such scant respect for the law and order of Great Britain.

"Once we have Mr. and Mrs. Forbes and this young lady safely housed in Fortescue Square, and protected, not only by their own servants but by the Metropolitan Police, we will devote ourselves to routing out the whole crew," he announced. "My idea is that when we lay hands on the ringleader, the rest will be easy. Furneaux's prisoner, Len Shi, may be got to talk when a Chinese interpreter tackles him. Again, there is every prospect of an important capture being made in the Croydon house. Most important of all is the prolonged absence from the yard of Furneaux. He is busy, or he would have put in an appearance there hours ago, if only to get to know my whereabouts. That means something. Furneaux never wastes time. Usually we hunt in couples. Today, by the fortune of war, we are separated, and perhaps fortunately so. It is all your fault, Mr. Theydon."

"Mine?" was the astonished cry.

"Yes. We had to try all sorts of tricks on you before you would speak. Just imagine Scotland Yard being compelled to tap the telephone of a respectable and well-known author before he would own up to such knowledge as he possessed of the murder in No. 17!"

So that was how Furneaux had played the necromancer, and was able to mystify Theydon that morning.

The chief inspector, by raising the question, was touching on dangerous ground, as he was well aware, but he was determined now that all barriers should be thrown down. Evelyn Forbes was no bread-and-butter miss from whose cognizance the evil things of life must be sedulously averted. A, woman of spirit and intelligence, who had already run the dreadful risk of sharing Mrs. Lester's fate, should be made to understand every phase of the difficulty with which the Criminal Investigation Department had yet to deal.

British law and Chinese anarchy would soon grapple in a life and death conflict, and it was idle folly to suppose that, no matter how reticent her friends might be, this sharp-witted girl would not find out for herself the exact nature of the link which bound the fortunes of her own family with those of the dead woman.

Theydon tried to pass off the detective's retort with a careless laugh, but Evelyn reverted to the topic when they were seated in the London-bound train after Winter had dropped them at Tunbridge Wells Station.

"What did the chief inspector mean when he said you refused to help him at first?" she inquired. "There are gaps in my history of this affair. How did you come to know that my father was acquainted with Mrs. Lester? Why did you seem, at one time, to be taking sides with my father against a public inquiry by the police?"

Then, seeing there was no help for it, Theydon began at the beginning and told the girl the full, true and unexpurgated story of events on the Monday night. Once or twice, when he hinted at the cause of his otherwise inexplicable actions— which, quite obviously, lay in his interest in the girl herself, she blushed a little and averted her eyes. But she listened in silence, and did not speak during many seconds after he had ceased.

Then she simply murmured:

"Poor, dear Dad! How worried he must have been! And how well he concealed it from me!"

After another pause, she added:

"We are deeply in your debt, Mr. Theydon. When this ordeal is ended, and those horrid men have been put in prison or driven out of the country, our next difficulty will be to— to thank you adequately for what you have done."

Surgit amari aliquid! Even in life's pleasantest hours something bitter arises. Theydon was in the company of the woman he loved, yet no word of love could rise to his lips. In the first place he dared not woo the daughter of a millionaire; in the second were his suit even possible, he was far too honorable minded to take immediate advantage of her disturbed state and the services he had undoubtedly rendered, and give the slightest hint of his passion.

So he sighed and looked out of the window at a fast-flying vista of a Kentish hillside, and contented himself by saying:

"For what little I have done, or attempted to do, I am already rewarded far beyond my wildest dreams."

Even that was more than he meant to say. Glancing timidly at Evelyn to see whether or not she resented his words, he was astounded to find that she had blushed scarlet, and, in her turn, was absorbed in the landscape.

Then he remembered that in the frenzy of the moment following the report of her mother's capture by Wong Li Fu, he had kissed her. Had he, or had he not? If not, why not now? But that way lay madness. And, wretched doubt, was she already the promised bride of another man? It was a relief when the train stopped at Sevenoaks.

When it moved on again, they were normal young people once more, and discussed various features of the Young Manchus' raid on society as though the extermination of political adversaries were a commonplace occurrence in modern England.

At last, after a journey which lived long in their minds, since even a prosaic train may follow the path to Wonderland, they arrived at London Bridge, and hummed in a taxi through streets of gaunt warehouses until the light of Westminster flashed on a Thames veiled in the blue mystery of a Summer gloaming.

The cab had hardly halted outside the Fortescue Square mansion when the door was thrown wide, and Tomlinson appeared, flanked by two stalwart footmen. The butler's face was aglow with pleasure.

"It's all right now you've come, Miss Evelyn," he said joyfully. "Mrs. Forbes arrived more than an hour ago."

But Tomlinson was in error. He did not know what tribulations loomed already through the haze of the future, or he would have laid to heart the time-honored advice to venturesome travelers:

"Never hallo till you're out of the wood!"

CHAPTER XII

NO SURRENDER

Mrs. Forbes, a slim, elegant woman, looked as if she were her daughter's elder sister. Although driven by hay fever to the seaside regularly at the beginning of the London season, she was far from being a malade imaginaire. She did not go willingly. Each year she hoped against hope that the annoying ailment would not make itself felt, yet no sooner was the month of May well established than for six or seven weeks she had either to drag her husband and daughter away from the metropolis or live by herself in some South Coast hotel.

She had tried Brighton, whence Mr. Forbes could travel to the city, but soon discovered that the daily train journey was not good for his health. After that, she insisted on adopting the self-denying ordinance of leaving Evelyn with her father in the town house from the middle of May till the end of June, when all three went to the Highlands.

She, of course, had not the remotest knowledge of the terrors threatening her household; a thunderbolt out of a Summer sky would have astonished her less than the indignities she endured when haled away from Eastbourne in the luxurious car which Wong Li Fu had at his command.

Theydon had been in the house nearly half an hour and was exchanging experiences with Forbes and Handyside— the latter, by virtue of his extraordinary share in the day's adventures, being admitted to the full confidence of the others— when Evelyn brought her mother into the library.

"Here is some one who positively refuses to retire for the night until she has met you, Mr. Theydon," said the girl, radiant with joy and relief, now that the shadow of death had passed, apparently forever, leaving her dear ones unscathed.

Mrs. Forbes, an aristocrat to the finger tips, greeted her guest with marked cordiality.

"I have been living during the past few hours like one of the characters one sees in the fearsome little plays produced on the stage of the Grand Guignol in Paris," she said, gazing at him with frank brown eyes singularly like her daughter's, "but I have contrived to gather one definite impression among the whirl of things, and that is that were it not for Mr. Frank Theydon, my daughter and I would now be in as bad a predicament as two women could possibly face anywhere."

"I was lucky enough to be of some little use, but Mr. Handyside is the lion of today's contest," said Theydon.

"I am grateful to both of you, how grateful I can never find words to tell, but Mr. Handyside rivals you in modesty, Mr. Theydon. He assured me that you were the deus ex machina, though he obtained the machine itself, and rode sixty miles to rescue me from my dragon. By the way, where is the motor cyclist— what is his name?"

"Jackson, ma'am," put in Handyside. "He went back to Eastbourne— thought nothing of it. I fixed him all right. He's coming to London next week. I've hired him for a trip round the island."

"In a side-car?" laughed Evelyn.

"No; I guess we'll run to something more roomy."

"Jim, dear," said Mrs. Forbes to her husband, "get Mr. Jackson's address. Our thanks to him, at least, can take a tangible form. No, Evelyn, I'm not going to bed. I mean to sit up and talk. I want to hear everything. You men must smoke big strong cigars, please. If I breathe tobacco smoke I shall not fancy I want to sneeze."

"I, for one, am simply aching to hear what happened to you," said Theydon.

Mrs. Forbes was equally ready to retail her trials.

"When a man who resembled a tall and well-built Japanese came to me on the Downs," she said, "I really believed him to be what he said he was— assistant to an Eastbourne doctor. I never dreamed he was Chinese, not that it mattered at all where I was concerned, only one becomes quite accustomed to meeting well-dressed Japanese men in society, but hardly ever a Chinaman. I thought, too, I remembered his face, which is quite possible, since my husband tells me that this Wong Li Fu was once an attach at the Chinese Embassy. He spoke excellent English, with a strongly marked lisp; when he said that my daughter wished to see me at the Royal Devonshire Hotel, and that a Dr. Sinnett had sent a car for my convenience, I was mainly concerned in getting him to admit the real cause of his presence, because I naturally assumed that Evelyn had met with an accident. No sooner had the car started than he seized my wrists, and gave them a queer twist, which seemed to render me powerless for a few seconds. 'If you scream or resist I hurt you— so— only very bad,' he said. I was that astonished I hardly realized what was taking place before he had my wrists and ankles strapped, tightly, but not painfully, and had placed a gag in my mouth. 'Now, you keep quiet,' he said, and showed me a horrible-looking knife, which he put on the seat between us. 'If you move at all when we pass through towns,' he went on, 'I stick this into you very deep.' Somehow, I knew that he meant to carry out his threats to the letter. At first I was more angry than hurt or even alarmed. Then I began to believe that I had fallen into the clutches of a lunatic, and grew horribly afraid. I saw that we were following the London road, and it oppressed me like a dreadful sort of nightmare to be speeding through a familiar district, a countryside dotted with the houses and estates of personal friends, and be unable to stir or utter a sound. It seemed to be almost stupid to see policemen in the streets of Tunbridge Wells, one of whom gazed into our car sharply, because, I suppose, we were traveling rather fast, and feel that no one could begin to guess at my predicament. You all appreciate the fact, of course, that I knew nothing whatever of any quarrel between my husband and a faction in China?"