I sipped. Then I drank. My consciousness returned. In a couple of minutes I could sit upright. The landlord was beaming at me with benevolent interest.

"Take another sup, sir," he said. "There's nothing like maraschino and gin when one is a bit overwrought. I've known many a gentleman in my part of the country who would take nothing else, after a hard day to hounds, to brace him up for those long ten miles home."

I took another sup, and a good one. Then my powers of speech returning, I asked where I was. I found I had not wandered nearly so far as I expected. I was barely six miles from my home—at King's Langley; but this fact was no criterion of the distance I must have traversed in my mad frenzy, for I saw by the clock that the hour was ten. It was about five when I left Colonel Maitland's house, so that I had been pressing onward for five hours in as wild a night as any on which I have ever been abroad.

I leaned back in my chair with the object of resting a few minutes before starting homewards. But, whether owing to the spirit I had swallowed, or to the heavy exertion I had undergone, or merely because of my intense mental fatigue, I felt drowsiness overcoming me so rapidly that I perceived it would never do for me to give way to it. Pulling myself together I rose to my feet, at the same time thrusting my hand into my pocket for the money to pay for my drink. The mere act of rising, however, was almost too much for me. My body felt as stiff as if I had been beaten all over. Only to move was absolute physical pain. I looked at the landlord.

"I'm afraid I am more knocked up than I thought. Can you manage a hot bath and a bed for me to-night?" I asked.

He glanced at me curiously, and, after a moment's consideration, he replied—

"I'll see what the missus'll say."

Luckily "the missus" said "Yes," so ten minutes later I was sluicing hot water over my aching limbs with a stable sponge in the bath which, I suspect, did duty on ordinary occasions for the family washing. Whatever it was, it did excellently well for my purpose. Gradually a delicious feeling of relaxation stole over me. I tumbled between the sheets and was asleep even before my host entered my room to take away my soaked clothing to be dried.

My sleep might have lasted one second. In point of fact I slept until nine o'clock the next morning, and should have continued to sleep if I had not felt a hand on my arm shaking me, and heard a voice bidding me arise. Fancying I was at home, and that my man was calling me, I said, "All right, Wilson," and turned over for another snooze.

"Now then, get up out of that!" said the voice. "None of your shamming! We are not to be put off that way."

It was not Wilson's voice. Wondering what was happening, I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes sleepily.

"What the deuce——!" I began. Then I stopped suddenly. A couple of constables in uniform stood at the bedside, and I gathered that it was the voice of the sergeant which had so rudely disturbed my slumbers.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"You know well enough," replied the sergeant. "You make haste and dress yourself and come along with us."

I thought my senses had deserted me.

"What in the name of good fortune for?" I asked.

"You're not going to kid us, my good feller," he answered. Adding facetiously, "If we puts a name to it and calls it piracy on the 'igh road, I wonder what you'll 'ave to say to it, remembering, of course, that anything you do say will be taken down and used in evidence against you."

Then all that had happened flashed across my mind; my strange appearance and arrival at the inn; my peculiar manner; my possession of plenty of money; the curious glances of the village folk; the fact that somewhere in the vicinity the Motor Pirate had last been seen. Under the circumstances, nothing could be more likely than that the bucolic intelligence should jump to the conclusion that I was the famous criminal. To me, however, the idea seemed so absurd that I fell into hearty laughter. My merriment seemed to annoy the sergeant, for he declared crossly that if I did not dress quickly, he would find himself under the necessity of taking me away as I was.

I thought it expedient to temporize, and as a result of a little diplomacy, in which one of the coins from my pocket found another resting-place, I obtained permission to breakfast before I left.

I made a hearty meal, the landlord attending upon my wants. I was glad to see that he, at least, had no hand in thrusting upon me the indignity of being arrested. He explained as much, telling my captors they were making idiots of themselves. As he seemed trustworthy, I gave him Winter's address, with instructions to wire to him, telling him of my predicament, and asking him to come to my assistance.

Necessarily I gave the instructions in the presence of the policemen, and directly I had done so I could see that their cocksureness was shaken. They became more polite in their attitude, and the sergeant took the trouble to explain that he was acting under instructions, and had no option but to insist upon my accompanying him to Watford.

Into Watford I went accordingly. I am not going to dwell in any detail upon the incidents of the journey; I am naturally of a retiring disposition, and every circumstance attending my progress was in the nature of an outrage upon my diffidence. For instance, upon my departure from the inn, the whole of the population from King's Langley, so far as I could judge, had gathered about the door of the White Horse to give me a send-off. The crowd was in no sense a hostile one. The majority of its component parts, especially the more youthful units, seemed indeed to view me with admiration not unmixed with envy. Only one yokel expressed disbelief in my identity.

"Ee ain't no pirut," he declared with unconcealed disdain, as he spat into the gutter. "Anybody can see he's only a toff."

I scarcely knew whether to be pleased with his conclusion or angry that he should find my personal appearance so unimpressive; and before I could make up my mind on the subject, I was seated in the trap provided for us and driven away seated between the two constables.

Our entry into Watford was still more in the nature of a triumph. Long before we reached the county police office I was wild enough, at being made such an exhibition of, to have given ten years of my life for the chance of punching the head of any one of the throng of gaping onlookers. Then, as a culminating blow to my pride, who should we meet at a point in the High Street where it was impossible to avoid recognition, but my rival Mannering in his trumpery old motor-car, accompanied by—above all persons in the world, the one I least desired to see—Miss Maitland.

I ground my teeth with rage, and as I alighted and followed the sergeant into the police station, I wished that I were the Motor Pirate in reality.

When I reached the presence of the officer in charge of the station I just managed to control my temper, though I fancy there must have been traces of my rage still visible in my voice as I demanded to know why a peaceable citizen should be subjected to such ignominy.

The inspector in reply merely asked me for my name and address.

Before meeting Miss Maitland I had cherished the hope that my identity would not be disclosed, but now I had no further reason for desiring to conceal it, I gave both at once.

The inspector quietly made a note of them, while another man in plain clothes, who was standing gazing out of the window, suddenly turned on me with the inquiry—

"How comes it, Mr. Sutgrove, that living at St. Albans you should choose to spend the night at a little inn at King's Langley?"

"I suppose I am at liberty to sleep where I like?" I retorted.

"Perfectly so," replied the stranger. "You will have no difficulty, I presume, in proving your identity?"

"Not the slightest," I said. "In fact I have already wired to a friend of mine—Mr. Winter, of Hailscombe, St. Albans—to come here for the purpose."

"I know Mr. Winter very well," said the inspector.

The stranger looked at me keenly, and when his scrutiny was completed he fell to whistling a bar of Chopin's Marche Funebre. Then he turned to his colleague in uniform.

"It's no go," he said. "This is not our man." Again he turned to me. "I am Inspector Forrest of Scotland Yard, detailed for special duty in connection with this Motor Pirate affair. Unfortunately I did not reach Watford until after arrangements had been made to bring you here, or—— I hope you will not take it amiss if we detain you until Mr. Winter's arrival."

This gave me the opening I had been wishing for, and I took it. I said a lot more than I can recall now, though I can remember a good deal. Most of it was to the effect that I would make somebody pay dearly for the annoyance to which I had been subjected.

Inspector Forrest listened patiently to me until I had finished.

"Come, come, Mr. Sutgrove!" he said then. "You must not bear any malice. Surely you must admit that appearances were not altogether in your favour," and he detailed to me the information which had led to my arrest. "You see," he said in conclusion, "that practically we had no option in the matter."

I dissented from his view. He said a word to the inspector in uniform, who left us alone in the room. Then he came close to me and remarked in a confidential tone.

"The fact is, our friend, who has just left us, has been too precipitate. You can make things exceedingly unpleasant for him if you like; but frankly, is it worth while? Think it over a little, bearing in mind that if we are to get hold of the Motor Pirate, we must take the chance of capturing the wrong man, since there is no description of him obtainable. You will not be the only one, I'll swear."

Since I had relieved my mind I felt better. Besides I was rather attracted by the personality of the man who was speaking to me. He did not at all fulfil my idea of a detective. He was a tall, slight, stiffly built man, with a pleasant open face and an agreeable manner. I saw, too, that I had only my own folly to blame for the predicament in which I now found myself.

In another ten minutes he was smoking one of my cigars and we were chatting confidentially. Before twenty had elapsed, I had confided to him not only Winter's and my own experience with the Motor Pirate, but also the chain of events which had led to my spending the night at the inn. He was exceedingly sympathetic and quite grave throughout, though he appeared more interested in the encounter with the Pirate than in the account of my mental tortures. However, when I told him of my vow, he brightened up and asked me if I was still determined to keep it.

I had just assured him that I would willingly spend the rest of my life in the quest, when the other inspector entered the room and with him Winter. The latter came straight across to me and held out his hand, and never in my life was I so glad to see his honest face and beaming smile.

"What have you been up to now, Sutgrove?" he remarked. "Not emulating the deeds of the Motor Pirate?"

"The police have somehow arrived at the conclusion that I am that distinguished person himself," I replied ruefully.

He roared with laughter. It was infectious. There was no help for it. The two inspectors joined in the merriment, and the last of my anger was borne away on the flood.

There was of course no question of my further detention. In a few minutes I was seated beside Winter in his car, and we were making the mud fly as we dashed towards St. Albans.

Inspector Forrest accompanied us. I had promised to find him some lunch if he would do so, and to drive him back afterwards, and he was glad of the opportunity of obtaining from us such particulars as we could furnish him with concerning the person of whom he was in search.



CHAPTER VII

I MAKE FRIENDS WITH INSPECTOR FORREST, C.I.D.

"THE telegraph," said Inspector Forrest, sententiously "is even more speedy than the Motor Pirate."

"Unless you want to send a message from Regent Street to the City," I remarked; "in which case one would save time by employing a sloth as messenger."

The inspector waved aside the objection as frivolous. He occupied an easy chair opposite me; he was smoking one of my best cigars with every sign of active enjoyment; he sipped his glass of claret—he rarely touched anything stronger, he informed me—with the air of a connoisseur.

"We shall beat him with the telegraph," said he. "Clearly he has one retreat where he can put up his car in safety. Probably he has more than one. It is not impossible for him to have several. There might even be a number of Motor Pirates, members of the same gang, but selecting different parts of the country upon which to prey. The telegraph will soon settle these points for us. When next he makes his appearance we shall be able to keep watch upon him, to note, if not the exact spot, at least in what part of the country he makes his appearance. Even if it should be found impossible to arrest him in his progress, he is bound to leave some traces behind him which will enable us to get upon his track."

"He does not seem to have left many behind him at present," I replied.

"No," said the inspector thoughtfully, as he rose and examined the map spread out upon the table. "Yet there are certainly grounds for believing that he has gone to earth somewhere in this neighbourhood. The Hertfordshire police may have been nearer the mark than you thought when they arrested you."

"You don't mean to say that you still suspect me?" I cried.

"Not for one instant," he answered promptly. "The meaning I meant to convey was that, quite unknown to you, the Motor Pirate may very well be your near neighbour. I suppose there is no one residing near whom you would consider a likely object of suspicion?"

There flashed across my mind the strange similarity between Mannering's voice and the Motor Pirate's. But the notion was so absurd I was ashamed to mention it. I assured the inspector I knew of no one.

"At all events, my belief is strong enough to keep me in this district until I hear something further," he declared, as he finished the contents of his glass and glanced at his watch.

Just then I caught sight of Mannering coming up the path through the garden towards my front door.

"You had better stay a little longer," I said to the inspector. "Here is another man coming who may be able to give you some more details of the Pirate. He has seen him, and as he has been a longer resident here than myself, he may be able to tell you more about the people round than I can."

"A motorist?" he asked.

"Yes, named Mannering," I replied. "He is the man I told you about, whom I consider to be my rival, you know."

The inspector's eyes twinkled. "I shouldn't let him drive me into any more adventures like last night's, Mr. Sutgrove," he advised. "If you were ten years older—my age, you know—you wouldn't need the warning, A bout of rheumatic fever would be small consolation for the loss of the lady."

I could not reply, for at that moment Mannering entered.

"Glad to see you home again, Sutgrove," he said heartily. "I'm not the only one either. Miss Maitland asked me to call, for after seeing you in such bad company this morning—— Hullo! I beg your pardon, I thought you were alone." He stopped suddenly on catching sight of Inspector Forrest.

I introduced my guest and Mannering acknowledged the introduction easily.

"Inspector Forrest will assure you that I have only been unfortunate enough to have been the object of our local constabulary's misplaced zeal. They took me for our mutual friend the Motor Pirate."

"Did they though? What an almighty spoof!" said Mannering. "First time I ever heard of a man being run in for robbing himself on the high-road. Beats Gilbert!"

"Mr. Sutgrove did not see the point of the joke at first," said the inspector. I saw that as he spoke he was taking note of Mannering in much the same way as he had taken stock of me at the police office.

Mannering appeared to be quite unconscious of his regard, for he replied—

"Don't suppose I should have relished such a mistake myself. Anyway," he continued, turning to me, "you have the consolation of knowing that you are not the only victim of police enterprise. I see from the papers quite half a dozen motor pirates have been run in. They may have the real one amongst them; but as his car has so far escaped capture, I doubt it."

"So do I," I remarked. "And for the additional reason that I have a sort of presentiment that when his capture is brought about, I am going to have a hand in it."

"What do you say to that, Inspector?" he answered. "Are you going to leave the job to amateurs?"

"I never said 'no' to the offer of assistance in running down a criminal," was the reply.

"I have sworn," I remarked obstinately, "that I will not rest until he is safe under lock and key."

"You had better be prepared," answered Mannering. "I should judge him to be a bit of a fighter."

"Next time I meet him, I'll take all risks to come to close quarters," I continued.

"You haven't a car to do a hundred miles an hour, have you?" he said in a bantering voice.

"My plan is a simple one. I merely propose to go out for night rides until he finds me," I said.

"I had some thoughts of amusing myself in the same way," he answered. "But, judging from your experience this morning, the only thing likely to happen is being arrested on suspicion."

"I'll take my chance of that," I said. "But before discussing the matter, perhaps you could tell Inspector Forrest whether there's any spot in this neighbourhood likely to serve as a hiding-place for the Pirate's car?"

A smile lit up Mannering's face. "There's the old coach-house at the bottom of the paddock next to my cottage. It has a door opening on to the main road. There would be room, too, in my stables, if I had not fitted them up as workshops for my tyre experiments."

"Stop rotting," I said, "the inspector really means it."

He became grave instantly. "Sorry I can't suggest a likely spot," he said, and then for a few minutes he answered the questions the detective put to him as to what he had seen of the Pirate.

He could give little information of any value, and when Inspector Forrest had elicited all that he could, he thanked Mannering and rose to depart. I accompanied him to the garden gate. He appeared a little loth to leave me. Twice he turned away and returned to make some objectless remark to me. The third time he blurted out—

"About that suggestion of yours—taking night rides on the chance of being held up——"

"Yes?" I said and waited.

"I wish I had a good fast car at my disposal," he continued earnestly; "but the Yard would never run to it."

I felt a pleasant thrill run through me. It would be good to have his companionship and assistance in working out my self-imposed vow.

"If you can make use of it, I will see that the best car money can buy is placed at your disposal," I replied eagerly.

He took my hand and shook it warmly. "I'll see what my chief says," he replied. "When can I see you again?"

"I shall be leaving here at eight and returning well—between ten and eleven."

"Expect me about midnight," he said, and without another word or backward glance he stepped out in the direction of St. Albans.

I returned to Mannering, who did not, however, favour me with a very lengthy visit. Possibly he found my manner rather cool, but the fact was, that try as I would to curb my feelings, I could not but resent something of an air of proprietorship which I thought appeared in his tone when referring to Miss Maitland.

When he had departed, I got out all the catalogues of motor-cars I could lay my hands upon, and studied them until it was time to dress for dinner. Several times I thought of breaking the appointment, for I knew I should have to give some explanation of my arrest, and how to do so without appearing an egregious ass I did not know. Finally I determined, if the opportunity were afforded me, to tell the exact truth, at least to the only person whose opinion I cared about.

I was glad afterwards that I had not sent my excuses, for I was lucky enough to find Miss Maitland alone in the drawing-room when I arrived. It seemed, too, as if she had determined to make amends for the mental torture she had unwittingly caused me the previous evening. So it happened that when she questioned me as to how I managed to get into such a predicament, I told her as clearly as I could of the state of my feelings. It was a blundering, halting statement I made, of that I am certain, and before I had completed it Colonel Maitland's entry closed my mouth. But I think she understood, for there was a little flush on her cheek when we went into dinner which had not been there when I greeted her, and a pretty air of seriousness in the glances she bestowed upon me, which I had never noticed before.

As far as the Colonel was concerned, he did not worry me for any explanations. He was bent on enlarging my knowledge of gastronomy, and having a new cook, he was much too deeply interested in the menu to spare any thoughts for my erratic movements. I am afraid, though, his teaching was wasted on me; for while I managed to reply to his conversation, I had not the slightest idea what I was eating. My principal longing was to get the meal over in order that I might finish the conversation which had opened so auspiciously. The opportunity was not afforded me on that occasion, however, but the evening did not pass without my obtaining a glimmering of hope.

When Miss Maitland rose I asked her, in a voice which was low enough not to reach her father's ear, whether she would answer me one question.

"What is it?" she said, and her face flushed a little as she came to the door.

"Is there any one else?" I asked, my hand on the knob.

"What right have you to ask?" she answered.

"No right, I only ask it of your mercy," I replied.

She hesitated, then with flushed cheeks and a soft whispered "No one," she escaped through the door.

Over the port I took my new-found courage in both hands, and asked the Colonel's consent to my suit. I gained it. He even expressed the hope that I should succeed, but he warned me at the same time that I must not depend upon him for any assistance. He declared himself to be clay in the hands of his daughter.

"Evie always had her own way from the cradle," he declared, "and always will have her own way. If I were to say that I thought you would make her a good husband, I'm not sure whether she would not consider it a sufficient excuse to accept Mannering straight away. Personally I should much prefer you, but there's no counting on a woman's tastes, either in men or wines. And Evie is a perfect woman, God bless her!"

I drained my glass to the toast and made an excuse to get away to the drawing-room. But I did not see her alone again that evening. Winter and his wife had walked over. Mannering did not put in an appearance, and his absence was something to be thankful for; and when I held her hand in mine as I bade her good night, I said—

"You have told me there is no one else. Is there any hope for me?"

She made no pretence of misunderstanding my meaning. She looked at me saucily, her lips parted lightly, her eyes brimming with laughter.

"Come and ask me when—when you have caught the Motor Pirate," she said, and with that answer I was fain to be content.

Thus it happened that I found myself fully committed to the work which was at that time engaging the attention of the whole of the police throughout the land. I welcomed the task. Luck might be on my side, especially if my new friend the detective inspector's assistance proved to be available.

And as regards assurance on this point, I had not long to wait before my mind was at ease. I found him awaiting me at my garden gate when I returned home. I invited him in so eagerly that he smiled.

"There's no need to ask if you are still as keen on this job as you were this afternoon," he said, as he entered my snuggery.

"Keener than ever," I asseverated.

"Then I hope between us we may be successful in running our man to ground."

"Have you heard anything further?" I inquired, anxiously.

"Nothing of the slightest value. A number of people have been through our hands, but of the Pirate—not a sign."

"Perhaps we shall get a clue in the morning," I hazarded.

"At present," he declared, "there's not a shred of a clue to work upon. Of course at any moment information may come to hand. He may endeavour to dispose of some of his plunder, or he may reappear, but until then——"

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

"I shall stay and thoroughly explore this district until I hear something further," he answered.

"I am thinking of going into town in the morning, to see if a more powerful car than the one I possess at present is to be obtained," I told him later. "I am hoping to get one capable of doing fifty or even sixty miles an hour at a pinch, so as to be prepared for emergencies. Meanwhile, if you like to make this house your headquarters, I shall be delighted to put you up."

"Do you really mean that, Mr. Sutgrove?" he asked.

"Of course I do," I replied.

He hesitated a moment, then he accepted my invitation. Luck was on my side after all.



CHAPTER VIII

MURDER

I LEARNED to know Inspector Forrest very well during the next fortnight, better perhaps, since during that time the Motor Pirate gave absolutely no sign of existence. It seemed as if, contented with the sensation he had created and the plunder he had secured, he had retired into the obscurity from which he originally emerged.

For two reasons I was not sorry for this interval. In the first place, I found I could not get immediately the type of car I wanted. Manufacturers and agents were willing enough to book orders, but none of them had in stock the high-speed automobile such as I required. Only after a long day's hunt did I discover an agent who thought that he could obtain for me a 60-h.p. Mercedes, and then it would have to be sent from Paris. At my suggestion, he telephoned through an order that the car should be despatched to him at once; but two or three days elapsed before its arrival in London, and then there were certain alterations which I required to be made which took a week to complete. I was glad, therefore, that my enemy did not make a reappearance until I was provided for him. When the new Mercedes was delivered to me I was delighted with it, especially when I found on my return from the trial run the engines worked as smoothly as when I started.

The other reason why I did not regret the Pirate's quiescence was because of the opportunity afforded me of cementing the friendship which had grown up between myself and the detective. It became a very real and warm friendship during those long idle days. He upset all my preconceived notions of the police, at least as regards the detective portion of the force, he was such an all-round man. He had not allowed his undoubted powers of observation to be entirely concentrated upon the seamy side of his profession. Judging from his conversation, I gathered that he knew quite as much about modern French literature as he did about French criminals, and of the latter his knowledge was both extensive and interesting. I remember on one occasion that he gave me a really acute criticism of the Verlain school, with special relation to the effects of decadent literature on national life. But that is only one example of his scope. Wherever he had been and whatever he had done, had apparently awakened in him the desire to see all round the case he was investigating, and being possessed of a well-trained memory, his mind was a storehouse of curious knowledge.

Let me give one instance. One evening when we were driving slowly along a bye-road in the vicinity of Uxbridge, in accordance with our preconceived plan—the Mercedes had not then arrived, and our progress was additionally slow as the roads were exceedingly heavy, as rain had been falling daily ever since the night I had been arrested—suddenly my companion said—

"Do you know anything of Persian poetry, Mr. Sutgrove?"

As it happened, owing to the fact that a Sutgrove had once represented his country at the Persian court, I had a slight knowledge of the subject, and I said so.

"I am never out of doors on a spring evening," he continued, "without wishing I had the time to acquire a knowledge of it."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's this way," he replied. "On one of my jobs—a show job, attendance on a distinguished visitor, don't you know—I was thrown a great deal into the company of a Persian gentleman, and we did our best to learn something of each other's languages. He taught me out of Hafiz, and I picked up just enough to make me wish for more. Listen to this."

He recited to me one of the shorter poems from the Divan.

"Isn't that musical?" he continued. "It seems to me to have the real poetry of the spring evening in it."

I agreed with him, and we were silent for a while. Later he asked me diffidently not to mention to any one his penchant for Persian poetry.

"Even at the Yard," he explained, "I doubt whether they would put it down to my credit."

I gave him the assurance he asked for, and from that time forth I came to look upon him as a personal friend. I confided wholly to him the hopes I entertained in regard to my love affair; and he assured me that if he had anything to do with it, I should also have a hand in the arrest of the Pirate.

All our time was not spent, however, in pleasant excursions about the country. Forrest was by no means idle; he had been busy perfecting his scheme for utilizing the telegraph in notifying the Pirate's reappearance when it should be made. Then he had in addition thoroughly and minutely explored the whole of the country round, to see if any trace of the strange visitor were obtainable. His endeavours were quite fruitless, but he still held to his belief that he could not be far away; and the next time the Pirate did make his appearance he was confirmed in his opinion.

The weather had been fine for three days in succession, there had been a drying breeze, and the roads from sloppy quagmires became in such perfect condition that I was looking forward to a really good spin. But Forrest had other views for the evening of the third day.

"I don't think," he remarked, as he sipped his coffee after our early dinner, "we can afford to spend the night ranging the highways. Business first and pleasure afterwards."

"I thought you were of opinion that our friend will be tempted to make his reappearance to-night?" I remarked.

"I am," he answered; "and therefore the best thing, we can do is to wait until we hear in which direction he makes his reappearance. If we wait in St. Albans at the end of the telegraph wire, we shall be much more likely to meet him than running about at random."

There was so much good sense in the suggestion that I resigned myself to the inevitable waste of time, and I had my reward. About eleven a message came over the wire: "Motor Pirate seen near Towcester going in the direction of Daventry."

"How far is Towcester?" asked Forrest, the moment he heard the message.

"Roughly, I should say forty miles," I answered.

"We ought to manage it within the hour, then," he remarked. "Come along."

Without another word we seated ourselves in the car, and with a continuous toot-toot of the horn we rolled out of the town. Directly we were clear of the houses, I jammed on the highest speed. I cannot say that I felt quite comfortable, for though I knew the road, the night was very dark, the light we threw ahead was so bright as to dazzle my eyes, and hitherto I had no experience of driving a 60-h.p. motor at top speed through the darkness. My companion's sang-froid soon reassured me, however, and as soon as we were fairly going, the sting of the night air as it whipped my cheeks brought a sense of exhilaration which would have sufficed to banish my fears had there been time to have entertained any. But there was not. If you have ever driven a speedy automobile at top speed through a dark night, you will readily understand that there is little opportunity for the brain to cultivate imaginary perils. If you do not believe me, try it for yourself and see.

In about sixteen minutes we were at Dunstable. Passing through the town slowly, Forrest got news that the police were watching all the roads, but that nothing had been seen there of the Pirate. Another quarter of an hour brought us to Fenny Stratford. Here we wasted another minute or so in obtaining similar negative information. By this time I was feeling confidence in my car and in my powers to manage it. Once clear of the houses again, I let her rip for all she was worth; we simply flew along. With my right hand on the wheel, my feet on the two pedals, I sat as tense as a fiddle string, my one object to peer into the road ahead.

We had covered ten of the fifteen miles between Stratford and Towcester, when I became aware of a deeper blotch on the blackness ahead. With one movement I pressed down the clutch and jammed on the breaks. I was just in time. The car pulled up in its own length, though it swerved to such an extent that I thought we should be overturned.

There, standing still within the circle of our lights, was another motor-car. It had no lamps burning, but it was shivering with the vibration of its engine running free.

"The Pirate!" I shouted.

"Not a bit of it," said Forrest, jumping down and approaching the stranger.

I followed his example, and the first thing I observed about the car was that all the lights were out, and I wondered that any motorist in his senses should have courted the accident which so nearly occurred.

There was one occupant of the car, and he was sitting bolt upright with one hand on a lever beside him. I shouted something at him angrily as I approached, but he made no response.

"Hullo! Are you asleep, sir?" said Forrest, as he put one foot on the step and grasped the silent motorist by the arm.

There was no reply. I saw Forrest leave his hold on the stranger, and, stepping back into the road, draw his hand across his brow.

"My God!" he muttered

"What is it?" I asked.

Forrest caught his breath sharply. "A piece more of the Motor Pirate's work, I fancy," he said slowly; "and this time, I think it spells—murder."

For a minute I stood absolutely still. It was one of the most eerie moments of my life. Above and about us the black night, beside us the two cars coughing and grunting as if anxious to be moving, and that silent figure sitting up erect upon his seat, utterly unconscious of the two persons standing watching him with horror-stricken faces.

Forrest's voice, clear, cool, incisive, brought me to myself.

"One of your lamps here, Sutgrove, if you can manage it."

I took a lamp from its socket, and held it while the detective made a brief inspection. It took him a very short time to assure him that his surmise was near the truth.

It was murder.

Right in the centre of the forehead of the silent figure was a small blue hole, so cleanly drilled that it scarcely marred the features of the dead man. One hand still grasped the lever, the other had dropped slightly. When the light fell upon it, I perceived the fingers to be tightly clasped about the butt of a revolver.

Forrest lifted the hand and glanced at the weapon. "One cartridge discharged," he said. "Surely it cannot be a case of suicide?"

Just at that moment I caught sight of a piece of paper pinned to the dead man's coat. I pointed it out to Forrest. He unfolded it, glanced at it, and handed it to me without a word.

It was just a half sheet of ordinary paper used for typing, and upon it was typed the following sentence—

"This is the fate awaiting those who venture to resist the Motor Pirate."

"That would seem to settle the question as to whether this is a case of suicide or not," I said, handing back the paper to the inspector.

"H'm! At all events the inquest will," he replied. "I'm afraid in any case this ends our pursuit for the night," he continued. "I think I must ask you to run on to the nearest town for assistance. Have you any idea of our whereabouts?"

By calculating the time which had elapsed since leaving Stratford with the pace at which we had been travelling, I came to the conclusion we were not very far from Towcester, and I suggested I had better go there.

"All right; cut along then. Revolver handy?"

I replied in the affirmative as I mounted my car.

"Wait one moment," he called as I was starting; "and bring your light on a bit."

I did as I was directed. Forrest took one of the lamps and walked for five yards up the road, examining carefully every inch of the roadway. At last he paused.

"Here is where the Pirate's motor stopped," he said; and, plumping down upon his knees, he examined the surface carefully. Then, taking a tape from his pocket, he made a series of measurements.

I inquired what he was doing. He grunted in reply. When he had finished he remarked—

"Nothing much to be got out of that. Judging from my measurements, our friend might be driving a Daimler."

Another thought struck him, and, before starting, he asked me to lend him a hand in getting the other car to the side of the road, in case any one else came along and fell upon the fate we had so narrowly escaped. Then I was at liberty to proceed, and, getting once more into my own vehicle, I let the Mercedes drive ahead.

But my nerve had gone. Every moment I fancied weird shapes in the blackness before me. Every moment I heard in my ears the strange humming of the Pirate. Yet I dared not look round, lest I should in that instant come upon him unawares in the shadows in front.

Fortunately I had no long distance to traverse. Soon friendly lights broke the darkness. Slackening pace, I found myself in the well-ordered streets of a little town. The second person I met was a policeman, and, hailing him, I bade him jump on the car and direct me to the police-station. Nothing loth, he obeyed.

I have an idea that the story I told the sergeant in charge was more than a little incoherent, but he understood me sufficiently to become aware that his presence was required immediately at the scene of a crime, and he gave me to understand that he was ready to accompany me forthwith. Then I remembered Forrest asking me to see that the services of a medical man were obtained, in order that he might make an examination of the body before its removal, and I mentioned the matter to the sergeant. He at once gave instructions to the constable who had guided me to the station to knock up a doctor and follow us at once with him, so there was very little delay before I was once more driving my car at full speed towards the scene of the tragedy.

By this time my nerve had returned. One reason may have been that I had taken advantage of the slight delay, occasioned by the sergeant giving instructions to his subordinate, to brace myself with a stiff whisky-and-soda from the small supply I carried on the car for emergencies. Now, too, I had the companionship of another able-bodied man on the car with me. I felt that, even if the mysterious murderer were to make his appearance, I should have a better chance of tackling him.

We were not long in reaching our destination. In fact a very few minutes elapsed before we came to the spot where the motor-car stood, with the rigid figure of its owner still in the position I had left him. I pulled up beside the derelict.

"Hallo, Forrest!" I shouted.

There was no answer. The detective had disappeared.



CHAPTER IX

EXPLAINS A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE

I SPRANG to the ground by the side of the death-car. It was standing by the side of the road, just as I had left it, its silent owner sitting rigidly erect, still grasping the lever, and looking fixedly into the darkness.

"Forrest! Forrest!" I shouted again.

All was silent as the grave.

It was very strange. He had promised to await my return. I looked at my watch. Altogether half an hour had not elapsed since my departure. Yet many things might happen in half an hour with such a spirit of death abroad as I knew to be hovering around. I shivered.

The police sergeant was as much bewildered at Forrest's disappearance as myself. On our way, I had explained more fully the circumstances under which we had discovered the crime which had been committed. He knew my companion by name and reputation, and he was quite at a loss to explain his absence.

I scanned the road so far as it was revealed by our lights, half expecting yet dreading to see his prostrate form. But there was nothing visible. Each taking a lamp from my car, the sergeant and I set out to search the hedges and ditches on each side of the road. We did so conscientiously for a hundred yards up and down the road, and on each side, but found nothing.

When we got back to the car, the sergeant said to me—

"Perhaps Mr. Forrest has found a clue, and thought he would waste no time in following it up."

The suggestion seemed feasible enough, but just at that moment my glance fell on something at my feet which put the idea to flight. Lying on the road was a large button. I picked it up. I saw at once that it had been torn violently away from the garment to which it had been attached, for a piece of the cloth had come away with it, I looked at it narrowly—the cloth was of the same material as the overcoat Forrest had been wearing.

The button had been almost under the wheels of my car, so I backed the Mercedes a few yards, and looked about for further traces. In the space thus laid bare there lay a lamp smashed to pieces. I picked up the frame, and saw that it was one of the lamps taken from the other motor. Further search only revealed another button similarly attached to a shred of cloth like the first one I had found. That was all.

The sergeant looked at me and I at him. One thought was in both our minds, and we gave utterance to it simultaneously.

"The Motor Pirate has been back again."

"You must have scared him away the first time, and on his return to complete the job he found the inspector here, and——"

The sergeant did not complete his sentence, but glanced apprehensively up and down the road.

"If he has returned, I don't see what he can have done with Forrest," I replied.

"Heaven knows!" the man replied, involuntarily lowering his voice. "I—I begin to believe that this Motor Pirate is—is the Devil."

"Nonsense, man!" I said sharply.

To tell the truth, my own nerves, in spite of the whisky, were in none too firm a condition; and I knew it would be fatal to allow myself to become infected by the very obvious funk which had seized upon my companion. I felt, however, I must be doing something unless I wanted to succumb.

"Look here," I said, "you wait by the car a few minutes, while I go two or three hundred yards further up the road, to see if I can find any other traces."

"I—I would much rather you—you didn't leave me," stammered the sergeant. "It's bad enough for there to be only the two of us."

"Come, pull yourself together," I replied roughly. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"I don't think I can stand being left here alone," repeated the sergeant.

"Very well; you had better come along with me then," I replied.

He jumped into the car beside me with alacrity, and I started the motor, though not until I had arranged my revolver handily at my side. We went for a mile at our slowest pace in the direction of Stratford, and finding nothing, we returned, and covered the same distance in the direction of Towcester, with a similar result. Our progress was brought to a termination by our meeting with a trap containing the doctor, who was accompanied by a couple of constables. When we recognized who was approaching, the change that came over the demeanour of the sergeant was astonishing. All his courage came back to him. He talked to me quite easily as we returned to the scene of the outrage with the trap keeping close behind us; and when we pulled up, he took control of the proceedings as if he had never felt a moment's tremor in his life. He must have observed my astonishment, for he took me aside and said—

"I was a bit overcome just now, sir. You won't mention it before my men."

"Certainly not," I answered. "I was only one degree better myself."

"That's enough to make any one feel creepy," he said, jerking his thumb towards the silent figure.

We did nothing but stand about and talk in subdued tones, until the doctor had completed his examination of the silent figure by the light of my lamps. It did not last long.

"Death was instantaneous," he said, as he stepped down from the car. "The bullet appears to have passed straight along the longitudinal sinus, and, as near as I can tell, he must have been dead about an hour."

"You would like to make a more extensive examination, I suppose, doctor?" said the sergeant.

"If a suitable place were available," he replied.

The sergeant mentioned an inn at a village not far distant, and, the doctor acquiescing, arrangements were at once made for conveying the body there, the sergeant and I setting out in advance to provide for its reception.

I am not going into any further detail regarding the proceedings of that night. Indeed I can to-day scarcely recall them. I know that I waited at the inn for a long while after the melancholy cortege arrived, and that I felt curiously dazed amidst all the bustle caused by the arrival. I remember eventually driving the sergeant back to Towcester, and making to him a long statement, which he took down in writing.

By the time I had completed this statement day had dawned. I shall never forget my impressions of that early morning as I rode home alone. The birds were twittering in the hedgerows, a soft white mist hung low down over the meadows, all nature was so serene and peaceful that it was difficult to imagine that the night which had passed had been so full of horror and mystery. I felt as one awakened from a dream. But on my way I passed the deserted motor-car. A constable was beside it, and I pulled up to speak to him.

"Seen nothing of Inspector Forrest, I suppose?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

I gave him good morning and got on. I made similar inquiries at Fenny Stratford, and again at Dunstable, still without result. I comforted myself with the thought that at St. Albans I should certainly hear news of him. But no. I found the police wild with excitement, but entirely without any information as to what had become of the missing detective. I found, however, that they did not share my forebodings as to anything serious having happened to him. Their view was that he had discovered some clue, and was hard upon the track of the murderer. I had to give them a complete history of the events of the night. But I got away at last, and reached home as tired as I had ever been in my life.

I took a bath as hot as I could bear it, and went straight to bed. I was dead beat, and I fell asleep instantly.

I awoke some time in the afternoon, and when I had got the sleep out of my eyes, and the events of the previous night came back to me, I felt inclined to curse myself for having thought of resting. I felt certain that if it had been myself who was missing, Forrest would not have slept until he had discovered something concerning my fate. I made a hasty meal while dressing, and ordered my car to be brought round. Directly it appeared I hurried off to St. Albans.

Nothing had been seen or heard there of Forrest, and once more I set out upon the road I had traversed the previous night. Again I rode as far as Towcester. I had a chat with the sergeant of police, and found that, though search parties had scoured the country round for miles, no intelligence had been obtained. I made arrangements to appear at the inquest on the following day, and returned to St. Albans. Still no news.

I got home again about seven, sick at heart. I had counted so much upon Forrest's assistance in the fulfilment of my vow; but that was only a secondary consideration now. I had grown to like him so much, that the idea that he had met with any mischance knocked me over completely. I went into my study and threw myself moodily into a chair. My man brought me in some whisky, and hovered about until I told him to go.

"You were going to dine at Mr. Winter's to-night, sir, with Mr. Forrest," he reminded me.

The engagement had completely passed from my memory.

"I shall be unable to go, Wilson," I said.

"They haven't found Mr. Forrest, then, sir?" said the man respectfully. He was simply brimming over with curiosity.

"No. I'm afraid we shall never see him alive again," I groaned.

"Dear me! Not so bad as that, I hope, sir," he responded sympathetically, as he still lingered.

"Not half so bad as that, Wilson," remarked a cheery voice just outside the door.

My man started, and I jumped to my feet with a shout of welcome.

"Forrest! Forrest!" I cried. "Come along in, man."

"Well, if I may?" replied Forrest's voice.

"If you may!" I answered. "Why—what the——!"

My astonishment at the appearance he presented as he entered the room choked my further utterance.

The man who entered was a veritable scarecrow. A man with a torn coat and rent trowsers, and a battered hat which barely held together upon his head. He was covered from head to foot with mud. His face was dirty, unshaven, disreputable.

"Forrest? Is it indeed you?" I could not but ask, when my speech returned to me.

"I don't ask you to recognize me until I have had a bath and a shave," he replied. "But when I have sacrificed to Hygeia, I expect to be presentable enough to dine with Mr. Winter to-night. I've been wondering all day whether I should manage to get here in time. Meanwhile, the least spot of whisky——"

I could not express my delight at his return, and unthinkingly I poured out nearly a tumbler of the neat spirit, and felt almost hurt when he returned all but one finger to the decanter.

"If you give me a dose like that, I shall certainly be unable to accompany you," he said.

I could curb my curiosity no longer. I burst out with a string of questions.

"Where have you been? What has happened to you? Why did you disappear? How——"

He stopped me. "So that's why you gave me all that whisky. You wanted to make me talk, eh?"

I laughingly disassociated myself from any such intention, and, putting the curb on my curiosity, I turned him over to Wilson to be valeted out of the semblance to a tramp.

The process took some time, and when he came downstairs in irreproachable evening clothes, there was no time for him to give me the history of his adventures unless we were to miss our dinner.

"And that," declared Forrest, "I absolutely refuse to do; for, with the exception of sixpenny worth of rum and a crust of bread and cheese, nothing has passed my lips since dinner last night."

"Then you will be glad to hear that the Winters are punctual people," I remarked as we at once set out for my neighbour's house.

"I suppose," he said, as we reached our destination, "I may count upon you not referring to the plight in which I returned to your place? I should not care for it to get abroad that the Pirate had got the better of me on the first occasion of our meeting."

"Then you have seen him?" I cried eagerly.

"Seen him!" Forrest ejaculated in reply. "Seen him! After dinner you shall have a full, true and particular account of all that's happened. Until then—well, assume you know everything but are not at liberty to divulge anything."

I was as much at home in Winter's house as in my own, so I did not trouble to ring and Forrest followed me in. I had forgotten that his appearance was likely to create as great a sensation there as it had caused me. I entered the drawing-room first, Forrest being a little behind. Mrs. Winter, a fluffy-haired little woman with blue baby eyes, baby lips, and a most engaging little baby dimple, was the centre of the party gathered there. The other women were Miss Maitland and Mrs. Winter's twin sister, who reproduced the hair, lips, eyes and dimple with such exactness that it was always a puzzle to me how Winter had managed to make up his mind between them. About them were gathered Colonel Maitland, Mannering, Winter himself, and another man whom he had brought down with him from town that day. The subject of conversation, I learned afterwards, had been entirely devoted to Forrest's disappearance, and when they caught sight of him the effect was electrical. The ladies all jumped to their feet, the twin sisters screamed in unison, the men stood stock still. Mannering appeared to be the most astonished, for he turned pale and his lips became livid. Before any one could say a word, however, the door opened again and the butler announced dinner in an impassive voice, which sent everybody into convulsions of laughter.

We filed into dinner a particularly merry party. Mrs. Winter had arranged for me to take in Miss Maitland, and the fact that Mannering obviously resented the arrangement added a great deal to my good humour. The fact of Forrest being the lion of the evening did not disturb me at all. Indeed I was glad some one else had to parry the numberless questions put to him respecting his disappearance.

He fenced them remarkably well, though of course, when cornered, he could always fall back upon the excuse of his mouth being closed by the official pledge of secrecy.

Needless to say, only one topic was mooted, and I should not have referred to it had not the man whom Winter had brought from town said something which, I found afterwards, had some bearing on future events. This person was a diamond merchant in his business hours, and after the ladies had left us, he expressed the opinion that it was a good thing the Motor Pirate confined his attentions to fellow motorists.

"If, for instance," he remarked, "he were to take it into his head to hold up the Brighton Parcels Mail to-morrow night, he would make one of the best-known firms in Hatton Garden feel very sick."

"How's that?" asked Mannering, carelessly. He had quite recovered from the temporary shock which Forrest's unexpected appearance had occasioned him.

"Well, I heard they are sending off a particularly valuable collection of stones by registered parcel post to-morrow," he answered.

"Seems a silly thing to do," commented Winter.

"I don't know about that," was the reply. "Their theory is that the chances of robbery are infinitely less than by any other method of forwarding. They have followed the practice for years, and hitherto have never made a loss. You see, no one knows anything about it except the principal, who takes the packet to the post office. He registers it at St. Martin's, and the packet is immediately placed amongst a number of parcels of all sorts, shapes and sizes; and the chance of a casual thief selecting that particular parcel, even if he had the chance, are at least a hundred to one, while it is well known that the postal employee who steals always lets the registered letter severely alone."

The subject was not pursued further, and soon after we joined the ladies. The party broke up early, and I was not sorry, for I could see Forrest was tired and I wanted to get his story from him before he turned in. But when we were back in my snuggery, I found that he considered it necessary to report himself at St. Albans. I was on the telephone, so I suggested its use, and he jumped at the idea. After some little difficulty we managed to get a message through to the police-station. Then settling down into an easy chair with a great sigh of content, he reeled out an account of his adventures.



CHAPTER X

DESCRIBING A RIDE WITH THE PIRATE

"WHEN you left me," Forrest began, "I thought I would pass the time until your return in making a still more detailed inspection of the ground than we had already made. I found I had no lights. In order to get over the difficulty, I went to the car in which the dead man was seated and examined the lamps. They were in good working order, and I could see that their extinction had not been due to any mischance. Why they should have been put out and the machinery of the car left running puzzled me. I could only conclude that the Pirate, after shooting his victim, had approached the car to plunder him, but had been scared away by the sound of our approach. He must have turned out the lights and have just had time to draw the car across the road to make a trap for us, before making his own escape. This impression of mine was confirmed later. I took one of the lamps from its socket, lit it, and looked again at the dead body. I am almost certain he had not been disturbed since the fated bullet struck him. His coat was closely buttoned. His rug was wrapped tightly round him. There were papers in his coat pocket, and I could feel through the coat that his watch and chain were still upon him. When thinking that the Pirate could not be far off, I regretted I had not accompanied you; but remembering you were well armed, I reckoned that if you did meet the gentleman, you were quite capable of giving a good account of yourself—and of him."

You who happen to have read my account of the state of my mind, as faithfully described in these pages, will be able to judge how far my friend's confidence in me was justified. For myself, I doubt not that had he met me, the Pirate would have been able to add a second victim to that night's list with little difficulty. This by the way.

"I did not make a very close examination," continued Forrest, "since there would be plenty of time for that when the doctor arrived. Besides, I wished him to see the body in the position we found it. So I turned my attention to the road again, going over the surface inch by inch in the most methodical manner. You never know, you see, whether some trifling object may not be dropped by the criminal which will provide a clue. I was so engaged when I became aware of a curious humming sound in the air. I stood upright and peered into the darkness. But my eyes had become dazzled by looking at the white road in the brilliant light of the acetylene lamp, and I might as well have expected to be able to see through a brick wall. The most sensible course to have pursued would have been to extinguish the lamp; but, instead of doing so, I stood like a fool in the middle of the road and waited until the Pirate—it was he without the slightest doubt—swooped down upon me, and if I had not at the last moment leaped aside I should have been bowled over. As it was, I just escaped being knocked down. The car pulled up with a jerk, and there, within reach, was the person whose capture would have—well, you can guess what it would have meant to me, if I could have managed to get him single-handed. But for the moment I was so astounded at the audacity of the rascal I could do nothing. I was not long in making up my mind to have a shot at capturing him, however. I dropped the lamp to the ground, and clipping my hand into my pocket I grasped my revolver. I knew I had to deal with a desperate character, but I was scarcely prepared to find him as physically powerful as he proved to be. I stepped up close to the car and with my left hand made a grab at him. It was a fruitless attempt. I found my wrist held in a grip of steel. I raised my right with the revolver. I was just a moment late in pulling the trigger, for he knocked up my hand and the bullet went wide. Before I had another chance, he twisted the weapon out of my grasp with a wrench that numbed my arm to the shoulder. How he managed to see in the dark was a mystery to me. He must have eyes like a cat—that man."

Forrest paused to light another cigarette, and after a couple of puffs he resumed—

"But the most startling thing was to come. Holding me tightly he leaned over towards me and said, 'Not this time, Inspector Forrest. You may think you have the Motor Pirate, but I can assure you that you were never more mistaken in your life.' Astonishment is not the name for my feelings at hearing him address me by my name. I had caught a glimpse of him before I dropped the lamp, but he was so swathed in his leather coat and disguised by his mask, that I should never be able to identify him. But I seemed to recognize something familiar in the intonation of his voice, yet even that was so muffled that I cannot be certain I have ever heard it before. However, I did not allow my astonishment to prevent me taking action. I threw myself suddenly backwards, hoping the weight of my body would upset his balance and drag him from his car to the ground, where we should have been on more equal terms. The jerk moved him about as much as if he had been built into his car. 'No, you don't, Inspector,' he said, with an infernal chuckle; and, so saying, he leaned over and, catching me by the coat, lifted me off my feet and swung me up on to the car before him. I'm not a light weight, as you can guess—I turn the scale at something nearer twelve stone than eleven—but he handled me as if I were a baby. I struggled of course, but my right arm was powerless, and he could master me with ease."

"I suppose it was during the struggle that you lost the two buttons from your overcoat which you left behind you?" I asked.

"Most likely," he replied, "though I knew nothing of them. Really his strength seemed diabolic. There was something else about him which to my mind scarcely seemed natural. At all my struggles he continued to laugh, but there was no merriment in his laughter, it was merely an even guttural cachinnation, the laugh of a fiend at the aimless struggles of a lost soul. It seemed to give him immense pleasure to see me wriggling on the smooth curved metal plate which formed the front of his car. I grew tired at last and lay still, hoping for a chance to better my position, for I came to the conclusion that in a mere trial of strength he was immeasurably my superior.

"When he saw my resistance had ceased, he spoke again. 'I feel inclined to take you for a ride with me, Inspector,' he said. 'I can assure you that you will find the experience a thrilling one. It is given to few men to travel with the Motor Pirate. The pace alone should prove exhilarating, to say nothing of the companionship and—what awaits you at the termination of the entertainment.' He chuckled again as he concluded, and I felt a cold thrill in the region of my spine.

"I made no reply. What would have been the use? But I do wish my right arm had been of some use, for I think in my anger I might have stood some chance of turning the tables on him. I quietly tried to rub the feeling back into it, but he did not afford me a chance of doing so for long. He produced a length of rope from somewhere or other, and, before I gathered what he was doing, he had twisted it round me and bound my arms tightly to my sides. I was absolutely powerless, and I gnashed my teeth with rage at the helpless state in which I found myself. There was I, a detective inspector with a reputation at the Yard second to none, trussed like a fowl, and lying on the slippery surface of the Pirate car I had come out to capture."

"Not exactly a pleasant position," I remarked, as Forrest paused to moisten his throat with the whisky-and-soda at his elbow.

"No; but the worst was yet to come. He had no sooner secured my arms than he drew another piece of cord through the band, and fastened it somewhere or other. 'Now, if ever you pray, Inspector,' he remarked, with some more of his beastly merriment, 'pray that this rope doesn't break; for if it should happen to do so at the pace we shall be travelling, you will go to hell even sooner than I intend you to do.'

"With that he set his car in motion, and, judging by the way the wind stung me, the pace was something terrific. At first I attempted to pay some attention to the direction we took. But I soon gave up the idea. My position on the car was not one from which I could observe anything with any degree of comfort. With my arms bound, I sprawled out upon the smooth, curved bonnet of the confounded car, only held on by a cord which I expected to break and send me flying into the next world every time we touched a stone, or crossed a rut. My heart was in my mouth for the next hour or so, but afterwards I think I grew careless or callous. He had pulled the cord round my arms pretty tightly; that numbed me all over, and the exposure to the air did the rest. I fell into a dreamy condition. I only know that never for a moment were we still. There was always the drone of the wheels in my ears, and whenever I made a struggle and opened my eyes, all I could see was the blacker streak in the blackness caused by the hedges flying past. Heaven only knows how far and where we went. It seemed an eternity until it ended. But by then I was very near unconsciousness. I have a sort of impression the car did stop. I fancy that I saw the Pirate's mask bent closely over me while he examined me, that I heard him say, 'I don't think, Mr. Inspector, your attentions will trouble me much more.' I do remember distinctly being lifted in his powerful hands. I felt him swing me once, twice, thrice; then I felt myself flying in the air, and the next moment my senses came back to me with a rush, for I plumped into several feet of water."

"Well?" I ejaculated, as Forrest paused to light another cigarette. I was so interested that I grudged him a moment's delay before completing the story.

"The curious thing to my mind is that he did not knock me on the head at first," said Forrest. "I can only explain it by the conclusion that our friend the Motor Pirate is a madman. But, if so, I undoubtedly owe my life to the means he took to finish it. The sudden immersion brought me to myself much more rapidly than any other process could have done. In detaching me from the car he must have loosened the knot of the rope binding my arms; possibly the water made it slip further before it became saturated. I felt the rope give, and got one arm free by the time I came to the surface. I floundered into shallow water, and paused. By this time there was just a glimmer of light on the eastern horizon from the dawn, and I could see the bank was only a yard or two distant. Somehow or another I managed to scramble out, bringing half the bed of the river, or pond, whichever it was I had been pitched into, with me. When I was on firm ground I collapsed. I did not remain long on the ground, though. I knew very well that if I wanted to escape a severe illness, the only thing to do was to keep moving until my circulation was restored. So I got going. It was hard work at first. My limbs were so cramped and stiff that I was compelled to stop and groan after crawling every six paces. But the stiffness wore off gradually. I went ahead until I struck a village, and found out in what part of the country I was."

"Why didn't you go to the police-station?" I asked.

"Wasn't going to make myself a laughing-stock for a lot of country constables," he answered. "No; if I had got my man, I should not have minded what sort of figure I cut, but to turn up such a scarecrow after failing to get my man—not much. I had learned from the post-office window where I was. I had been dropped near Shefford, a village a few miles the other side of Hitchin on the North Road, and I thought if I walked back here I should avoid all likelihood of getting a chill. So I started. I found I had a shilling in my pocket. I had more money about me than that when I started out, but whether our friend helped himself to the balance, or whether it fell from my pockets during the ride, I haven't the slightest idea. But the shilling was sufficient to provide for my requirements. The first public-house I found open I went in, and had six-penny-worth of hot rum. My word! There's nothing like hot rum for putting new life into one. After I had drunk it I reckoned I should get here about noon; but I had not taken the somniferous effects of that sixpenny-worth of rum into the calculation. Before I had covered half a dozen miles, I found myself so sleepy that I could not keep my eyes open. I dropped off once or twice as I walked, so at last I made for a convenient haystack, rolled myself up in the loose litter at the base, and let myself go.

"That's how it happened I was so late in my arrival," he remarked; "and now, Motor Pirate or no Motor Pirate, I am going to finish that snooze."

He gave a prodigious yawn, and held out his hand. "Good night!" I said. "The story of my adventures will very well keep until to-morrow."



CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH THE PIRATE HOLDS UP THE BRIGHTON MAIL

ON joining Forrest at breakfast the following morning, I found he had mapped out a programme for the day which promised to keep us pretty busily occupied.

"First," he said, "I must get into St. Albans, and see whether there is any fresh information to hand. If possible, I should like to run over to Shefford, for I want to look at the place where I had my ducking, and recover the piece of cord with which that almighty scoundrel secured me. Then there's the inquest at Towcester at twelve, and sometime to-day I must put in an appearance at head-quarters to hand in my report. Perhaps I had better train from Towcester for that. It will be making too great demands on your time."

"Nonsense!" I replied; "I can run you up to town very nearly as quickly as you could manage the journey by rail."

"I hope you won't have to return alone," he remarked. "I am hoping to be able to inflict myself upon you for a few more days; but it is on the cards I may be taken off the job since I have met with so little success."

"I hope not," I answered.

"I should be sorry, too," he said. "I am more convinced than ever that our friend is living within a twenty-mile radius of this house."

"What grounds have you for thinking so?" I asked.

"The very slightest at present," he declared frankly; "and until I have seen the police reports from other parts of the country, I will not commit myself definitely to the opinion."

I could not get anything more out of him then, but after he had made a note of all the information to be obtained at St. Albans—we were on the road by nine-thirty—he became more communicative. The information he obtained did not amount to much. On the previous evening, the Motor Pirate had not made his appearance anywhere; while on the evening before, the only outrage of which he had been guilty was the murder which we had discovered. On that night, however, his car had been reported as having been seen on various roads in the midlands, one appearance having been recorded as far north as Peterborough.

"That confirms my opinion," Forrest declared. "The Peterborough report gives the time of his appearance as about 2.50. The sun rises at five, and it is beginning to be light an hour earlier. It must have been about four when he dropped me into the water at Shefford. Hitherto he has not been seen by daylight at all. Clearly he must have delayed getting rid of me until he thought it was dangerous to carry me about any longer. He may even have been close to his own home, though he would probably select a spot twenty or thirty miles away at least."

"It seems likely," I agreed.

"Certain of it," said Forrest. "Now we will get along to Shefford."

We had a very pleasant run, and a mile from the village, Forrest stopped me where a deep pool fringed with rushes skirted the road.

"This is the spot," he cried.

He left me in the car and scrambled through the hedge into an adjoining field. He came running back with a dilapidated overcoat sodden with water in one hand, and a piece of rope in the other.

"Thought I could not be mistaken," he cried.

When he was again in the car he examined the rope carefully.

"Just an ordinary piece of half-inch cord," he remarked. "It's not of much value as a clue, but as a piece of evidence—I have known a man's life hang upon a slighter thread before now." He chuckled grimly at his own pleasantry.

"Where next?" I inquired.

"Towcester," he replied; and I wheeled the car round, and we were soon making the dust fly again.

We were not detained very long at the inquest. Forrest had a few words with the coroner, so that after formal evidence of identification had been given, and I had made my statement as to the finding of the body, the inquiry was adjourned. Thus plenty of time was left at our disposal, and we did not hurry on our way to town, even breaking our journey on the way for lunch.

The weather remained delightfully fine. Clean roads, blue sky, soft winds, combined to make ideal weather for motoring. We reached town about four, and went straight to Scotland Yard. Forrest went in while I waited for him. Then he returned for me, and, taking me up in the lift, he piloted me into the presence of the commissioner, whom I found to be an exceedingly courteous gentleman. He expressed himself indebted to me for the assistance I had rendered the department. I did not see that my assistance had been of much practical value, and I said so; but I added that I was very keen on the Motor Pirate's capture, and I should be glad to render any service in my power which would tend to such an end.

"Anything you can do to assist Inspector Forrest will be greatly appreciated," he declared. "Of course, it is not our usual plan to make use of outside assistance, but we are not so bound up in red tape as to refuse such aid as that you offer."

We had ten minutes' further conversation, and then Forrest and I left together. The detective was in high glee. He had obtained carte blanche to do as he liked. His chief had expressed every confidence in him, while urging him to spare no effort to obtain the Pirate's arrest.

"The fact is," he said, "the papers have been rubbing it into us for allowing such audacious crimes to be committed right under our noses, and the chief is wild to get the chap. Half of the detective force are already engaged on the job. I fancy I should get him myself singlehanded sooner or later if he were a sane man; but, as it is, the cunning of a madman upsets every calculation."

"You still hold to the theory that he is mad?" I asked.

"Cannot explain his treatment of me in any other way," he replied promptly.

"Well, what's the next move?" I asked, when we had returned to our car. "I suppose we may as well go for a prowl to-night, on the off-chance of finding him."

"We might try a new district," answered Forrest, "You may have noticed that he breaks fresh ground every time he reappears."

"Where shall it be then?"

Forrest answered my question with another. "Supposing yourself to be in his place, and the desire to attract notoriety a stronger motive than mere plunder. What should you do?"

There flashed into my memory what Winter's guest had said about the Brighton Parcels Mail, and I said laughingly—

"I fancy I should hold up the Brighton Mail."

"As likely a feat as any for him to attempt," replied Forrest, thoughtfully.

I glanced up at the clock in the tower of St. Stephens; the hands pointed to a quarter before five.

"Well," I said, "we may as well run down to Brighton by daylight and get acquainted with the road, since I have only driven over it once before. We can dine at the Metropole comfortably, spend a couple of hours on the front after dinner, and have plenty of time to meet the mail on the road afterwards."

"A most excellent suggestion," agreed the inspector, and his eyes twinkled at the thought of the programme I had mapped out.

We started forthwith. Reaching Brighton before sunset, I refilled my tanks with petrol before putting the car up at the Metropole and reserving a table for dinner. We had a wash, walked to the Hove end of the esplanade, and came back to our dinner with appetites equal to anything. We sat over our coffee a long while, Forrest making the time fly by spinning yarns about his experiences. Then we smoked a cigar on the pier, and so whiled away the time until eleven. If we had started then we should possibly have reached town before the mail had started, but as we were both tired of dawdling about, I proposed that we should extend our tour.

Forrest was quite agreeable. "Really we are out on a fool's errand," he remarked. "We are just as likely to meet him on one road as another. Yet I have a presentiment that we shall hear something further about him to-night. If we do meet him, remember one thing. One of us must get in the first shot, and it must not miss."

"Don't wait for me to shoot, then," I replied.

We got our car, and after a glance at the map, I told my companion where I proposed to go: a run along the coast to Worthing, there to strike inland for Horsham, from Horsham to make for the Brighton road about Crawley, roughly about a forty-mile run in all, and I reckoned that if we kept to the legal speed limit we should just about meet the mail.

Forrest made no objection to my suggestion, so we started at our slowest pace. I had very little to do, and the ride was one of the most enjoyable I have ever experienced. The salt breath of the sea was in our faces, and the roar of it in our ears. I was quite sorry when on reaching Worthing it became necessary to leave the coast. Inland the roads were absolutely deserted. We did not meet a single person between Worthing and Horsham, and for the first time I realized how easily the Motor Pirate's movements could evade notice. At Horsham we looked in at the police-station, and Forrest made a formal inquiry as to whether anything had been heard of our quarry in the neighbourhood; but, as we expected, without result. We remained there a little time to stretch our legs and to drink a cup of tea, which the officer in charge prepared for us, and on leaving we proceeded at the same steady pace, arriving in Crawley something after four. There we found that the mail had passed through a quarter of an hour before our arrival, and I questioned whether it would be worth our while to remain any longer on the road.

"We may as well make a night of it," said Forrest, in reply to my remark on the subject, so I turned the car in the direction of Brighton again. We bowled along at about fifteen miles an hour, at which rate I reckoned on catching the mail within half an hour. But we were destined to overtake it in a considerably shorter time, for just after passing the third milestone after leaving the village, our path was blocked by the huge van standing in the middle of the road and all across it.

I pulled up at once. Apparently the vehicle was not much damaged, but the door was broken open, while the parcels with which it had been laden were scattered all over the roadway. One horse lay on the roadway perfectly still, the others had disappeared.

The moment we stopped Forrest leaped from the car; I followed his example. The first object which met our eyes was the form of a man. He lay perfectly still, and I thought he was dead, but my companion had sharper eyes. Taking a knife from his pocket, he hacked at cords which bound the man hand and foot.

"More work of the Motor Pirate," remarked Forrest grimly, as I came to his assistance.

The man was not dead, but he had been so roughly gagged that had we arrived ten minutes later he probably would have been beyond human help. In the condition he was, it took us ten minutes working vigorously to restore his respiration; and after that it took the whole of the contents of my pocket flask to restore him sufficiently to enable him to give us an account of the mishap which had befallen him.

Then we learned that the man was the driver of the mail, and that Forrest's surmise that we had happened once more upon the handiwork of the Motor Pirate was correct. He had, it appeared, been driving quietly along, when his attention had been arrested by the curious high-toned hum which presaged the Pirate's approach. He was wondering what the curious noise could be, when he suddenly realized that a long low car was beside him. He did not anticipate any harm either to himself or to his charge, for, though he fancied that the stranger was the noted criminal, he shared the impression, pretty common until then, that the Pirate confined his attentions to motorists. The stranger did not even call upon him to pull up. He ran beside the coach, then slightly increasing his speed, he drew level with the wheelers of the team. There was the sound of a pistol shot, the off wheeler fell dead in his tracks, bringing down the other horses in his fall, and swinging the vehicle right across the road. The driver only escaped being pitched from his seat by the strap which held him to it.

"Then," continued the man, "he ups with 'is pistol an' tells me to come dahn, an' dahn I toddles pretty quick. 'Sorry ter inconwenience yer, my good feller,' ee says. 'Don't menshing it,' I says, as perlite as you'd be with a pistol a pointing at yer 'ed. 'I want the keys er this 'ere waggin,' ee says. 'Sorry they don't trust 'em ter us drivers,' I answers. 'Don't matter worth a cent,' ee says. 'I've another w'y er openin' thet strong box. Put yer 'ands be'ind yer an' turn rahnd,' ee says. I done it, an' ee trusses me up like a bloomin' chicken, an' sticks my own angkincher dahn me froat. With thet ee walks along ter the door and blows the bloomin' locks orf with 'is pistol. That did it. Ee looks inside, an' the w'y ee cleared them parcels aht was a sight—well, yer can see fer yerself wort it's like. The other 'orses were thet mad they kicks theirselves free. Ee goes froo the parcels cool as a cowcumber until ee routs aht the registered parcels. Ee puts them in 'is car. 'Tar, tar!' ee says, wiving 'is 'and, an' orf ee goes jest abaht five minutes afore you gents comed along."

When Forrest realized how near we had been to coming to close quarters with our quarry, he went aside, and for the first time since I had made his acquaintance, I heard him swear. It was a successful effort. He returned to my side the next moment.

"The telegraph is our only chance," he said. "Drive like hell back to Crawley."

I did. There we set the wires throbbing, and begun to scour the countryside for any traces of the Pirate. We did not give up our quest until eleven o'clock in the morning. I think we inquired at every house and cottage within a ten-mile radius of the scene of the outrage, but without finding a single person who had seen or heard of the Motor Pirate.

Once more he had appeared and disappeared without leaving the faintest clue to his identity.



CHAPTER XII

HOW WE EXCHANGE SHOTS WITH THE PIRATE

AFTER the sudden flurry which the reappearance of the Motor Pirate caused, and quite as much in the country at large as in my own particular circle, we settled down once again to a condition of comparative quietude. Of course there were plenty of facts to keep the public interest alive and to fill the papers. The adjourned inquest on the victim found near Towcester supplied columns of copy, while the robbery of the Brighton Mail afforded unlimited scope for the descriptive reporter as well as for the special crime investigator, who at this time made his permanent appearance on the staff of nearly every paper of any importance in the British Isles. My life at home was made a burden to me by these gentlemen. I bear them no malice for their persevering attempts to interview me, but they were an unmitigated nuisance, since I had no wish to air my experiences in the newspapers at this stage of affairs. It was with the utmost difficulty I escaped the attention of the gentlemen of the Fourth Estate, for they even waited on my doorstep for the chance of button-holing me when I went out in the morning; and pursued me so assiduously, that I dared not look a stranger in the face, lest my glance should be translated into a column of glowing prose.

I have said that the Pirate left no clue to his identity upon his latest appearance, and, indeed, at the time, such was the opinion both of Forrest and myself. But in the light of after events we learned that there was a clue, had we been keen-witted enough to have discovered it. In the course of our inquiries around Crawley, we certainly did not succeed in finding any one who had observed the mysterious car which every one had learned to associate with the Pirate, but we had been told casually at Caterham—we had not returned by the direct road between London and Brighton—that we were not the only motorists abroad on that night, since another man had passed through the town early the same morning. When we learned, however, that he had been driving a car of the conventional shape with a tonneau body, we paid no further attention to the information, concluding that he was a sportsman, anxious like ourselves for a brush with the Pirate. Our blindness was to cost us dear before we had done.

There was another supposition which I could not get out of my mind in connection with the latest feat, and a couple of days afterwards I mentioned it to Forrest as we waited, according to our invariable custom, at St. Albans for news of the Pirate's reappearance.

"Don't you think it particularly strange," I remarked, "that in holding up the Brighton Mail, our friend at once searched for the registered parcels, and directly he laid his hands upon them at once made off?"

"A perfectly natural thing for him to do," replied the detective. "He would guess that, if there were any valuables, they would almost certainly have been registered, and he could scarcely hope to go over the whole contents of the van."

"Admitted," I replied. "Still, does it not strike you as curious that he should have selected the night when a valuable parcel of diamonds was there?"

"Well?" asked Forrest, his attention thoroughly arrested.

"It almost seems as if he was possessed of the same information as we were," I ventured.

"According to your argument," he answered, "the pirate should be either yourself or myself, Colonel Maitland, Mr. Mannering, Mr. Winter, or his friend."

"There remains Mannering and the diamond merchant," I said thoughtfully, "and I know the latter has never driven a motor-car in his life. Besides, he is scarcely likely to have robbed himself in such an extraordinary fashion." We had seen from the papers that he had, in fact, been referring to his own firm when he had described to us the advantages of the parcel post as a means of transmitting valuables. "He may have other friends beside Winter to whom he has mentioned the matter."

"There's Mr. Mannering still to be accounted for," remarked Forrest. "No harm can be done by inquiring if he was away from home that evening. What sort of establishment does he keep?"

"Merely a couple of maids," I answered.

"In that case there should be no trouble in ascertaining whether he was out or not," he replied. "I'll see about it in the morning."

He made the inquiry accordingly, but as he confessed to me afterwards, without expecting anything to come of it. His expectations seemed to be justified in the result. The maids declared that Mannering had gone to his sitting-room after dinner, and had been there with his slippers on when they retired for the night. They had locked up the house as usual, and the doors had been fast when they came down the next morning.

This investigation, perfunctory as it was, decided us against any idea of Mannering's complicity, and I fell back upon the theory that the diamond merchant must have communicated his methods to some one else. We sought him out in the city, and he assured us that he had never before referred to the subject. He did not object to supplying us with the names of his acquaintances who owned cars, and either Forrest or myself made inquiries concerning every one of them. All were to no purpose. When we had finished, we were no nearer discovering anything concerning the Pirate than we were when we had begun.

Then occurred an incident which should have opened our eyes, if anything possibly could have done so, to the personality of the Pirate. But again we were absolutely blind.

It was the second week of May, and since, in spite of continued fine weather, our unknown terror remained in the seclusion of his hiding-place, wherever it might be, I had persuaded Forrest to come with me for a run one afternoon as far as Cambridge, proposing to return after sunset.

The roads were beginning to be a little dusty, but altogether we had a very pleasant journey without any incident of note. We left the university town about nine, reckoning upon getting home comfortably before midnight. There was a bright slice of moon shining, and we did the dozen miles before reaching Royston at a decent pace. We went slowly over the hilly road out of Royston and had passed over the worst of it, and I had just put on a higher speed, when I fancied I heard the distant hum which once heard could never be mistaken for anything else. Forrest heard it at the same time as myself.

"Pull up at the side of the road," he cried. "The car must not be damaged."

I obeyed, running the bonnet into the hedge and leaving the back of the car extended over the footpath. Meanwhile, Forrest had drawn his revolver from his pocket, and the moment I brought the car to a standstill I followed his example.

"Don't stand on ceremony," advised my companion; "shoot on sight!"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when our enemy made his appearance, coming from the direction of Buntingford. Whether he had any intention of stopping and robbing us, I have no means of telling, but I think not, for he was travelling at his most rapid pace, and gave no signs of slackening as he approached. Once more I was astonished at the wonderful steadiness of his machine. He passed us in a flash, the car running as evenly as if it were upon rails. In fact I paid so much attention to this, that I was too late to fire with any prospect of hitting him. Forrest was more alert. As the Pirate swooped by, the detective's Colt spoke twice. So far as we could see, the shots took no effect, for he did not move an inch.

"No luck," muttered my companion, as the hum of the Pirate's car died away in the distance.

I held up a warning finger. "Hush!" I said.

My ears had told me truly—our enemy was once more approaching us. I leaned over the back of the car, this time determined that I would at least make an endeavour to stop his progress. The road was without a bend for a stretch of at least two hundred yards, and the moment he came into the straight he was clearly visible to us in the light of the moon. I did not wait. The moment I saw him distinctly, I lifted my revolver and pulled the trigger as rapidly as I was able. Before I had emptied three chambers he was level. I was just in the act of firing a third time, when a flash of fire spurted from the running car and my pistol dropped from my hand. Something had struck me violently on the arm. I felt no pain for the moment, only curiously numbed and cold. I wondered why my companion should continue to fire at the rapidly disappearing form of the Pirate, who appeared to me to be swerving from side to side of the road in the most ridiculous fashion. In another moment he was out of sight. I felt extremely sick, and, with something between a groan and a sigh, I sank back into my seat.

"I fancy one of us must have got him," said Forrest, in an excited tone. "Let us get on."

"I hope you are right," I answered. "For he has certainly managed to wing me."

The shock had passed off, and, with the return of sensation, my arm felt as if a red-hot iron had been run through it, while there was a similar sort of feeling about my chest.

"Really," said Forrest, as he looked closely into my face. He must have seen that I was not joking, for he jumped out of the car and came back with one of the lamps in his hand. "Where is it?" he asked, with some anxiety.

"Merely the arm, I fancy," I replied.

He took a knife from his pocket, and, without a moment's hesitation, ripped up the sleeve of the overcoat and under-coat which I was wearing. The shirtsleeve was already soaked with blood, and his face was curiously anxious as he cut away the linen and felt the bone from wrist to shoulder. Then his face cleared.

"Only through the muscle," he remarked. "A fortnight will see the wound completely healed."

Meanwhile he was tearing his handkerchief into strips, and, with this improvised bandage, he bound up the wound.

"Sure that is all?" he asked, when he had tightened it to his satisfaction.

"I've got much the same sort of feeling here," I replied, tapping my chest gingerly.

His face grew grave again, and before doing anything more he fished my flask out of my pocket, and insisted upon my taking a liberal draught of the contents. Not until then would he examine me.