THE POWERHOUSE ......................................................................................................................................1

John Buchan .............................................................................................................................................1

A recent tale of mine has, I am told, found favour in the dugouts and billets of the British front, as

being sufficiently short and sufficiently exciting for men who have little leisure to read. My friends in that

uneasy region have asked for more. So I have printed this story, written in the smooth days before the war, in

the hope that it may enable an honest man here and there to forget for an hour the too urgent realities, I have

put your name on it, because among the many tastes which we share one is a liking for precipitous yarns.

WE were at Glenaicillsix of usfor the duckshooting, when Leithen told us this story. Since five in the

morning we had been out on the skerries, and had been blown home by a wind which threatened to root the

house and its windblown woods from their precarious lodgment on the hill. A vast nondescript meal,

luncheon and dinner in one, had occupied us till the last daylight departed, and we settled ourselves in the

Conversation, I remember, turned on some of Jim's trophies which grinned at us from the firelit walls, and we

began to spin hunting yarns. Then Hoppy Bynge, who was killed next year on the Bramaputra, told us some

queer things about his doings in New Guinea, where he tried to climb Carstensz, and lived for six months in

mud. Jim said he couldn't abide mudanything was better than a country where your boots rotted. (He was

to get enough of it last winter in the Ypres Salient.) You know how one tale begets another, and soon the

whole place hummed with odd recollections, for five of us had been a good deal about the world.

All except Leithen, the man who was afterwards SolicitorGeneral, and, they say, will get to the Woolsack in

time. I don't suppose he had ever been farther from home than Monte Carlo, but he liked hearing about the

Jim had just finished a fairly steep yarn about his experiences on a Boundary Commission near Lake Chad,

"Lucky devils," he said. "You've had all the fun out of life. I've had my nose to the grindstone ever since I left

"All the same," he went on, "I once played the chief part in a rather exciting business without ever once

budging from London. And the joke of it was that the man who went out to look for adventure only saw a bit

of the game, and I who sat in my chambers saw it all and pulled the strings. 'They also serve who only stand

Then he told us this story. The version I give is one he afterwards wrote down, when he had looked up his

IT all started one afternoon early in May when I came out of the House of Commons with Tommy Deloraine.

I had got in by an accident at a byelection, when I was supposed to be fighting a forlorn hope, and as I was

just beginning to be busy at the Bar I found my hands pretty full. It was before Tommy succeeded, in the days

when he sat for the family seat in Yorkshire, and that afternoon he was in a powerful bad temper. Out of

doors it was jolly spring weather; there was greenery in Parliament Square and bits of gay colour, and a light

wind was blowing up from the river. Inside a dull debate was winding on, and an advertising member had

been trying to get up a row with the Speaker. The contrast between the frowsy place and the cheerful world

"This about finishes me," he groaned. "What a juggins I am to be mouldering here! Joggleberry is the

celestial limit, what they call in happier lands the pink penultimate. And the frowst on those back benches!

"Damned monkeyhouse," said Tommy. "I must get off for a bit or I'll bonnet Joggleberry or get up and

I did not see him for a day or two, and then one morning he rang me up and peremptorily summoned me to

dine with him. I went, knowing very well what I should find. Tommy was off next day to shoot lions on the

Equator, or something equally unconscientious. He was a bad acquaintance for a placid, sedentary soul like

me, for though he could work like a Trojan when the fit took him, he was never at the same job very long. In

the same week he would harass an UnderSecretary about horses for the Army, write voluminously to the

press about a gun he had invented for potting aeroplanes, give a fancydress ball which he forgot to attend,

and get into the semifinal of the racquets championship. I waited daily to see him start a new religion.

That night, I recollect, he had an odd assortment of guests. A Cabinet Minister was there, a gentle being for

whom Tommy professed public scorn and private affection; a sailor, an Indian cavalry fellow; Chapman, the

Labour member, whom Tommy called Chipmunk; myself, and old Milson of the Treasury. Our host was in

tremendous form, chaffing everybody, and sending Chipmunk into great rolling gusts of merriment. The two

lived adjacent in Yorkshire, and on platforms abused each other like pickpockets.

Tommy enlarged on the misfits of civilised life. He maintained that none of us, except perhaps the sailor and

the cavalryman, were at our proper jobs. He would have had Wythamthat was the Ministera cardinal of

the Roman Church, and he said that Milson should have been the Warden of a college full of port and

prejudice. Me he was kind enough to allocate to some reconstructed Imperial General Staff, merely because I

had a craze for military history. Tommy's perception did not go very deep. He told Chapman he should have

been a lumberman in California. "You'd have made an uncommon good logger, Chipmunk, and you know

When questioned about himself he became reticent, as the newspapers say. "I doubt if I'm much good at any

job," he confessed, "except to ginger up my friends. Anyhow I'm getting out of this hole. Paired for the rest of

the session with a chap who has lockjaw. I'm off to stretch my legs and get back my sense of proportion."

Someone asked him where he was going, and was told "Venezuela, to buy Government bonds and look for

Nobody took Tommy seriously, so his guests did not trouble to bid him the kind of farewell a prolonged

journey would demand. But when the others had gone, and we were sitting in the little back smokingroom

on the first floor, he became solemn. Portentously solemn, for he wrinkled up his brows and dropped his jaw

"I've taken on a queer job, Leithen," he said, "and I want you to hear about it. None of my family know, and I

would like to leave someone behind me who could get on to my tracks if things got troublesome."

I braced myself for some preposterous confidence, for I was experienced in Tommy's vagaries. But I own to

I remembered PittHeron very well. He had been at Oxford with me, but he was no great friend of mine,

though for about two years Tommy and he had been inseparable. He had had a prodigious reputation for

cleverness with everybody but the college authorities, and used to spend his vacations doing mad things in

the Alps and the Balkans, and writing about them in the halfpenny press. He was enormously

richcottonmills and Liverpool groundrentsand being without a father, did pretty much what his

fantastic taste dictated. He was rather a hero for a bit after he came down, for he had made some wild journey

Then he married a pretty cousin of Tommy's, who happened to be the only person that ever captured my

stony heart, and settled down in London. I did not go to their house, and soon I found that very few of his

friends saw much of him either. His travels and magazine articles suddenly stopped, and I put it down to the

I asked what kind of mess, and Tommy said he didn't know. "That's the mischief of it. You remember the

wild beggar he used to be, always off on the spree to the Mountains of the Moon or somewhere. Well, he has

been damping down his fires lately, and trying to behave like a respectable citizen, but God knows what he

has been thinking! I go a good deal to Portman Square, and all last year he has been getting queerer."

Questions as to the nature of the queerness only elicited the fact that PittHeron had taken to science with

"He has got a laboratory at the back of the houseused to be the billiardroomwhere he works away half

the night. And Lord! The crew you meet there! Every kind of heathenChinese and Turks, and longhaired

chaps from Russia, and fat Germans. I've several times blundered into the push. They've all got an odd

secretive air about them, and Charlie is becoming like them. He won't answer a plain question or look you

straight in the face. Ethel sees it too, and she has often talked to me about it."

"Bolted without a word to a mortal soul. He told Ethel he would be home for luncheon yesterday, and never

came. His man knew nothing about him, hadn't packed for him or anything; but he found he had stuffed some

things into a kitbag and gone out by the back through the mews. Ethel was in terrible straits and sent for me,

and I ranged all yesterday afternoon like a wolf on the scent. I found he had drawn a biggish sum in gold

"I was just setting out for Scotland Yard this morning when Tomlin, the valet, rang me up and said he had

found a card in the waistcoat of the dress clothes that Charles had worn the night before he left. It had a name

on it like Konalevsky, and it struck me that they might know something about the business at the Russian

Embassy. Well, I went round there, and the long and short of it was that I found there was a fellow of that

name among the clerks. I saw him, and he said he had gone to see Mr PittHeron two days before with a

letter from some Embassy chap. Unfortunately the man in question had gone off to New York next day, but

Konalevsky told me one thing which helped to clear up matters. It seemed that the letter had been one of

those passports that Embassies give to their friendsa higherpowered sort than the ordinary makeand

Konalevsky gathered from something he had heard that Charles was aiming at Moscow."

"You don't understand," said the sage Tommy. "You don't know old Charles as I know him. He's got into a

queer set, and there's no knowing what mischief he's up to. He's perfectly capable of starting a revolution in

Armenia or somewhere merely to see how it feels like to be a revolutionary. That's the damned thing about

the artistic temperament. Anyhow, he's got to chuck it. I won't have Ethel scared to death by his whims. I am

going to hale him back from Moscow, even if I have to pretend he's an escaped lunatic. He's probably like

I have forgotten what I said, but it was some plea for caution. I could not see the reason for these heroics.

PittHeron did not interest me greatly, and the notion of Tommy as a defender of the hearth amused me. I

thought that he was working on very slight evidence, and would probably make a fool of himself.

"It's only another of the man's fads," I said. "He never could do things like an ordinary mortal. What possible

"Then I give it up. Whatever it is, it looks as if PittHeron would have a companion in misfortune before you

are done with the business. I'm all for you taking a holiday, for at present you are a nuisance to your friends

and a disgrace to your country's legislature. But for goodness' sake curb your passion for romance. They don't

Next morning Tommy turned up to see me in Chambers. The prospect of travel always went to his head like

wine. He was in wild spirits, and had forgotten his anger at the defaulting PittHeron in gratitude for his

provision of an occupation. He talked of carrying him off to the Caucasus when he had found him, to

I remember the scene as if it were yesterday. It was a hot May morning, and the sun which came through the

dirty window in Fountain Court lit up the dust and squalor of my working chambers. I was pretty busy at the

time, and my table was well nourished with briefs. Tommy picked up one and began to read it. It was about a

"Poor old beggar!" he said. "To spend your days on such work when the world is chockfull of amusing

things. Life goes roaring by and you only hear the echo in your stuffy rooms. You can hardly see the sun for

the cobwebs on these windows of yours. Charles is a fool, but I'm blessed if he isn't wiser than you. Don't you

The queer thing was that I did. I remember the occasion, as I have said, for it was one of the few on which I

have had a pang of dissatisfaction with the calling I had chosen. As Tommy's footsteps grew faint on the

stairs I suddenly felt as if I were missing something, as if somehow I were out of it. It is an unpleasant feeling

Tommy went off at 11 from Victoria, and my work was pretty well ruined for the day. I felt oddly restless,

and the cause was not merely Tommy's departure. My thoughts kept turning to the PittHeronschiefly to

Ethel, that adorable child unequally yoked to a perverse egoist, but a good deal to the egoist himself. I have

never suffered much from whimsies, but I suddenly began to feel a curious interest in the businessan

unwilling interest, for I found it in my heart to regret my robust scepticism of the night before. And it was

more than interest. I had a sort of presentiment that I was going to be mixed up in the affair more than I

wanted. I told myself angrily that the life of an industrious commonlaw barrister could have little to do with

the wanderings of two maniacs in Muscovy. But, try as I might, I could not get rid of the obsession. That

night it followed me into my dreams, and I saw myself with a knout coercing Tommy and PittHeron in a

Next afternoon I found my steps wending in the direction of Portman Square. I lived at the time in Down

Street, and I told myself I would be none the worse of a walk in the Park before dinner. I had a fancy to see

Mrs PittHeron, for, though I had only met her twice since her marriage, there had been a day when we were

I found her alone, a perplexed and saddened lady with imploring eyes. Those eyes questioned me as to how

much I knew. I told her presently that I had seen Tommy and was aware of his errand. I was moved to add

that she might count on me if there were anything she wished done on this side of the Channel.

She was very little changed. There was still the old exquisite slimness, the old shy courtesy. But she told me

nothing. Charles was full of business and becoming very forgetful. She was sure the Russian journey was all

a stupid mistake. He probably thought he had told her of his departure. He would write; she expected a letter

But her haggard eyes belied her optimism. I could see that there had been odd happenings of late in the

PittHeron household. She either knew or feared something;the latter, I thought, for her air was more of

I did not stay long, and, as I walked home, I had an awkward feeling that I had intruded. Also I was

increasingly certain that there was trouble brewing, and that Tommy had more warrant for his journey than I

had given him credit for. I cast my mind back to gather recollections of PittHeron, but all I could find was

an impression of a brilliant, uncomfortable being, who had been too fond of the byways of life for my sober

tastes. There was nothing crooked in him in the wrong sense, but there might be a good deal that was

perverse. I remember consoling myself with the thought that, though he might shatter his wife's nerves by his

To be watchful, I decided, was my business. And I could not get rid of the feeling that I might soon have

A FORTNIGHT laterto be accurate, on the 21st of MayI did a thing I rarely do, and went down to

South London on a County Court case. It was an ordinary taxicab accident, and, as the solicitors for the

company were good clients of mine and the regular County Court junior was ill in bed, I took the case to

oblige them. There was the usual dull conflict of evidence. An empty taxicab, proceeding slowly on the

right side of the road and hooting decorously at the corners, had been run into by a private motorcar which

had darted down a side street. The taxi had been swung round and its bonnet considerably damaged, while its

driver had suffered a dislocated shoulder. The bad feature in the case was that the motorcar had not halted to

investigate the damage, but had proceeded un, conscientiously on its way, and the assistance of the London

police had been called in to trace it. It turned out to be the property of a Mr Julius Pavia, a retired East India

merchant, who lived in a large villa in the neighbourhood of Blackheath, and at the time of the accident it had

been occupied by his butler. The company brought an action for damages against its owner.

The butler, Tuke by name, was the only witness for the defence. He was a tall man, with a very long, thin

face, and a jaw, the two parts of which seemed scarcely to fit. He was profuse in his apologies on behalf of

his master, who was abroad. It seemed that on the morning in questionit was the 8th of Mayhe had

received instructions from Mr Pavia to convey a message to a passenger by the Continental express from

Victoria, and had been hot on this errand when he met the taxi. He was not aware that there had been any

damage, thought it only a slight grazing of the two cars, and on his master's behalf consented to the judgment

It was a commonplace business, but Tuke was by no means a commonplace witness. He was very unlike the

conventional butler, much liker one of those successful financiers whose portraits you see in the picture

papers. His little eyes were quick with intelligence, and there were lines of ruthlessness around his mouth,

like those of a man often called to decisive action. His story was simplicity itself, and he answered my

questions with an air of serious candour. The train he had to meet was the 11 A.M. from Victoria, the train by

which Tommy had travelled. The passenger he had to see was an American gentleman, Mr Wright Davies.

The case was over in twenty minutes, but it was something unique in my professional experience. For I took a

most intense and unreasoning dislike to that bland butler. I crossexamined with some rudeness, was

answered with steady courtesy, and hopelessly snubbed. The upshot was that I lost my temper, to the surprise

of the County Court judge. All the way back I was both angry and ashamed of myself. Halfway home I

realised that the accident had happened on the very day that Tommy left London. The coincidence merely

flickered across my mind, for there could be no earthly connection between the two events.

That afternoon I wasted some time in looking up Pavia in the Directory. He was there sure enough as the

occupier of a suburban mansion called the White Lodge. He had no city address, so it was clear that he was

out of business. My irritation with the man had made me inquisitive about the master. It was a curious name

he bore, possibly Italian, possibly Goanese. I wondered how he got on with his highly competent butler. If

Tuke had been my servant I would have wrung his neck or bolted before a week was out.

Have you ever noticed that, when you hear a name that strikes you, you seem to be constantly hearing it for a

bit? Once I had a case in which one of the parties was called Jubber, a name I had never met before, but I ran

across two other Jubbers before the case was over. Anyhow, the day after the Blackheath visit I was briefed

in a big Stock Exchange case, which turned on the true ownership of certain bearer bonds. It was a

complicated business, which I need not trouble you with, and it involved a number of consultations with my

lay clients, a famous firm of brokers. They produced their books, and my chambers were filled with glossy

I had to examine my clients closely on their practice in treating a certain class of bearer security, and they

were very frank in expounding their business. I was not surprised to hear that PittHeron was one of the most

valued names on their lists. With his wealth he was bound to be a good deal in the city. Now I had no desire

to pry into PittHeron's private affairs, especially his financial arrangements, but his name was in my

thoughts at the time, and I could not help looking curiously at what was put before me. He seemed to have

been buying these bonds on a big scale. I had the indiscretion to ask if Mr PittHeron had long followed this

"Mr PittHeron," volunteered the stockbroker, "is very closely connected in his financial operations with

another esteemed client of ours, Mr Julius Pavia. They are both attracted by this class of security."

At the moment I scarcely noted the name, but after dinner that night I began to speculate about the

connection. I had found out the name of one of Charles's mysterious new friends.

It was not a very promising discovery. A retired East India merchant did not suggest anything wildly

speculative, but I began to wonder if Charles's preoccupation, to which Tommy had been witness, might not

be connected with financial worries. I could not believe that the huge PittHeron fortunes had been seriously

affected, or that his flight was that of a defaulter, but he might have got entangled in some shady city business

which preyed on his sensitive soul. Somehow or other I could not believe that Mr Pavia was a wholly

innocent old gentleman; his butler looked too formidable. It was possible that he was blackmailing

But on what ground? I had no notion as to the blackmailable thing that might lurk in Charles's past, and the

guesses which flitted through my brain were too fantastic to consider seriously. After all, I had only the

flimsiest basis for conjecture. Pavia and PittHeron were friends; Tommy had gone off in quest of

PittHeron; Pavia's butler had broken the law of the land in order, for some reason or other, to see the

departure of the train by which Tommy had travelled. I remember laughing at myself for my suspicions, and

reflecting that, if Tommy could see into my head, he would turn a deaf ear in the future to my complaints of

But the thing stuck in my mind, and I called again that week on Mrs PittHeron. She had had no word from

her husband, and only a bare line from Tommy, giving his Moscow address. Poor child, it was a wretched

business for her. She had to keep a smiling face to the world, invent credible tales to account for her

husband's absence, and all the while anxiety and dread were gnawing at her heart. I asked her if she had ever

met a Mr Pavia, but the name was unknown to her. She knew nothing of Charles's business dealings, but at

my request she interviewed his bankers, and I heard from her next day that his affairs were in perfect order. It

A few days later I stumbled by the merest accident upon what sailors call a "crossbearing." At the time I

used to "devil" a little for the SolicitorGeneral, and "note" cases sent to him from the different Government

offices. It was thankless work, but it was supposed to be good for an ambitious lawyer. By this prosaic

I had sent me one day the papers dealing with the arrest of a German spy at Plymouth, for at the time there

was a sort of epidemic of roving Teutons, who got themselves into compromising situations, and gravely

troubled the souls of the Admiralty and the War Office. This case was distinguished from the common ruck

by the higher social standing of the accused. Generally the spy is a photographer or bagman who attempts to

win the bibulous confidence of minor officials. But this specimen was no less than a professor of a famous

German university, a man of excellent manners, wide culture, and attractive presence, who had dined with

I have forgotten the evidence, or what was the legal point submitted for the Law Officers' opinion; in any

case it matters little, for he was acquitted. What interested me at the time were the testimonials as to character

which he carried with him. He had many letters of introduction. One was from PittHeron to his wife's sailor

uncle; and when he was arrested one Englishman went so far as to wire that he took upon himself the whole

costs of the defence. This gentleman was a Mr Andrew Lumley, stated in the papers sent me to be a rich

bachelor, a member of the Athen�um and Carlton Clubs, and a dweller in the Albany.

Remember that, till a few weeks before, I had known nothing of PittHeron's circle, and here were three bits

of information dropping in on me unsolicited, just when my interest had been awakened. I began to get really

keen, for every man at the bottom of his heart believes that he is a born detective. I was on the lookout for

Charles's infrequent friends, and I argued that if he knew the spy and the spy knew Mr Lumley, the odds were

that PittHeron and Lumley were acquaintances. I hunted up the latter in the Red Book. Sure enough he lived

in the Albany, belonged to half a dozen clubs, and had a country house in Hampshire.

I tucked the name away in a pigeonhole of my memory, and for some days asked everyone I met if he knew

the philanthropist of the Albany. I had no luck till the Saturday, when, lunching at the club, I ran against

I forget if you know that I have always been a bit of a connoisseur in a mild way. I used to dabble in prints

and miniatures, but at that time my interest lay chiefly in Old Wedgwood, of which I had collected some

good pieces. Old Wedgwood is a thing which few people collect seriously, but the few who do are apt to be

monomaniacs. Whenever a big collection comes into the market it fetches high prices but it generally finds its

way into not more than half a dozen hands. Wedgwoodites all know each other, and they are less cutthroat

in their methods than most collectors. Of all I have ever met Jenkinson was the keenest, and he would

discourse for hours on the "feel" of good jasper, and the respective merits of blue and sagegreen grounds.

That day he was full of excitement. He babbled through luncheon about the Wentworth sale, which he had

attended the week before. There had been a pair of magnificent plaques, with a unique Flaxman design,

which had roused his enthusiasm. Urns and medallions and what not had gone to this or that connoisseur, and

Jenkinson could quote their prices, but the plaques dominated his fancy, and he was furious that the nation

had not acquired them. It seemed that he had been to South Kensington and the British Museum, and all sorts

of dignitaries, and he thought he might yet persuade the authorities to offer for them if the purchaser would

resell. They had been bought by Lutrin for a wellknown private collector, by name Andrew Lumley.

Jenkinson said he was a rich old buffer who locked up his things in cupboards and never let the public get a

look at them. He suspected that a lot of the best things at r recent sales had found their way to him, and that

No, he told me, but he had once or twice been allowed to look at his things for books he had been writing. He

had never seen the man, for he always bought through agents, but he had heard of people who knew him. "It

is the old silly game," he said. "He will fill half a dozen houses with priceless treasures, and then die, and the

whole show will be sold at auction and the best things carried off to America. It's enough to make a patriot

There was balm in Gilead, however. Mr Lumley apparently might be willing to resell the Wedgwood

plaques if he got a fair offer. So Jenkinson had been informed by Lutrin, and that very afternoon he was

going to look at them. He asked me to come with him, and, having nothing to do, I accepted.

Jenkinson's car was waiting for us at the club door. It was closed, for the afternoon was wet. I did not hear his

directions to the chauffeur, and we had been on the road ten minutes or so before I discovered that we had

crossed the river and were traversing South London. I had expected to find the things in Lutrin's shop, but to

"He keeps very few of his things in the Albany except his books," I was told. "But he has a house at

"I can't help that. The things in it belong to old Lumley, all right. I know, for I've been three times there with

Jenkinson got little out of me for the rest of the ride. Here was excellent corroborative evidence of what I had

allowed myself to suspect. Pavia was a friend of PittHeron; Lumley was a friend of PittHeron; Lumley was

obviously a friend of Pavia, and he might be Pavia himself, for the retired East India merchant, as I figured

him, would not be above an innocent impersonation. Anyhow, if I could find one or the other, I might learn

something about Charles's recent doings. I sincerely hoped that the owner might be at home that afternoon

when we inspected his treasures, for so far I had found no one who could procure me an introduction to that

We reached the White Lodge about halfpast three. It was one of those small, square, lateGeorgian

mansions which you see all around Londononce a countryhouse among fields, now only a villa in a

pretentious garden. I looked to see my superbutler Tuke, but the door was opened by a female servant who

inspected Jenkinson's card of admission, and somewhat unwillingly allowed us to enter.

My companion had not exaggerated when he described the place as full of treasures. It was far more like the

shop of a Bond Street artdealer than a civilised dwelling. The hall was crowded with Japanese armour and

lacquer cabinets. One room was lined from floor to ceiling with good pictures, mostly seventeenthcentury

Dutch, and had enough Chippendale chairs to accommodate a public meeting. Jenkinson would fain have

prowled round, but we were moved on by the inexorable servant to the little back room where lay the objects

of our visit. The plaques had been only halfunpacked, and in a moment Jenkinson was busy on them with a

The housekeeper stood on guard by the door, Jenkinson was absorbed, and after the first inspection of the

treasures I had leisure to look about me. It was an untidy little room, full of fine Chinese porcelain in dusty

Pavia, I reflected, must be an easygoing soul, entirely oblivious of comfort, if he allowed his friend to turn

his dwelling into such a pantechnicon. Less and less did I believe in the existence of the retired East India

merchant. The house was Lumley's, who chose to pass under another name during his occasional visits. His

motive might be innocent enough, but somehow I did not think so. His butler had looked too infernally

With my foot I turned over the lid of one of the packingcases that had held the Wedgwoods. It was covered

with a litter of cottonwool and shavings, and below it lay a crumpled piece of paper. I looked again, and saw

that it was a telegraph form. Clearly somebody, with the telegram in his hand, had opened the cases, and had

left it on the top of one, whence it had dropped to the floor, and been covered by the lid when it was flung off.

I hope and believe that I am as scrupulous as other people, but then and there came on me the conviction that

I must read that telegram. I felt the gimlet eye of the housekeeper on me, so I had recourse to craft. I took out

my cigarettecase as if to smoke, and clumsily upset its contents amongst the shavings. Then on my knees I

It was in French, and I read it quite clearly. It had been sent from Vienna, but the address was in some code.

"Suivez a Bokhare Saronov"these were the words. I finished my collection of the cigarettes, and turned the

lid over again on the telegram, so that its owner, if he chose to look for it diligently, might find it.

When we sat in the car going home, Jenkinson absorbed in meditation on the plaques, I was coming to

something like a decision. A curious feeling of inevitability possessed me. I had collected by accident a few

odd, disjointed pieces of information, and here by the most amazing accident of all was the connecting link. I

knew I had no evidence to go upon which would have convinced the most credulous common jury. Pavia

knew PittHeron; so probably did Lumley. Lumley knew Pavia, possibly was identical with him. Somebody

in Pavia's house got a telegram in which a trip to Bokhara was indicated. It didn't sound much. Yet I was

absolutely convinced, with the queer subconscious certitude of the human brain, that PittHeron was or was

about to be in Bokhara, and that PaviaLumley knew of his being there and was deeply concerned in his

She had had a letter from Tommy, a very dispirited letter, for he had had no luck. Nobody in Moscow had

seen or heard of any wandering Englishman remotely like Charles; and Tommy, after playing the private

detective for three weeks, was nearly at the end of his tether and spoke of returning home.

I told her to send him the following wire in her own name: "Go on to Bokhara. Have information you will

She promised to send the message next day, and asked no further questions. She was a pearl among women.

HITHERTO I had been the lookeron; now I was to become a person of the drama. That telegram was the

beginning of my active part in this curious affair. They say that everybody turns up in time at the corner of

Piccadilly Circus if you wait long enough. I was to find myself like a citizen of Baghdad in the days of the

I am wrong: there was one episode out of London, and that perhaps was the true beginning of my story.

Whitsuntide that year came very late, and I was glad of the fortnight's rest, for Parliament and the Law Courts

had given me a busy time. I had recently acquired a car and a chauffeur called Stagg, and I looked forward to

trying it in a tour in the West Country. But before I left London I went again to Portman Square.

I found Ethel PittHeron in grave distress. You must remember that Tommy and I had always gone on the

hypothesis that Charles's departure had been in pursuance of some mad scheme of his own which might get

him into trouble. We thought that he had become mixed up with highly undesirable friends, and was probably

embarking in some venture which might not be criminal but was certain to be foolish. I had long rejected the

idea of blackmail, and convinced myself that Lumley and Pavia were his colleagues. The same general

notion, I fancy, had been in his wife's mind. But now she had found something which altered the case.

She had ransacked his papers in the hope of finding a clue to the affair which had taken him abroad, but there

was nothing but business letters, notes of investments, and suchlike. He seemed to have burned most of his

papers in the queer laboratory at the back of the house. But, stuffed into the pocket of a blotter on a bureau in

the drawingroom where he scarcely ever wrote, she had found a document. It seemed to be the rough draft

of a letter, and it was addressed to her. I give it as it was written; the blank spaces were left blank in the

"You must have thought me mad, or worse, to treat you as I have done. But there was a terrible reason, which

some day I hope to tell you all about. I want you as soon as you get this to make ready to come out to me at . .

. You will travel by . . . and arrive at . . . I enclose a letter which I want you to hand in deepest confidence to

Knowles, the solicitor. He will make all arrangements about your journey and about sending me the supplies

of money I want. Darling, you must leave as secretly as I did, and tell nobody anything, not even that I am

alivethat least of all. I would not frighten you for worlds, but I am on the edge of a horrible danger, which

That was allobviously the draft of a letter which he intended to post to her from some foreign place. But

can you conceive a missive more calculated to shatter a woman's nerves? It filled me, I am bound to say, with

heavy disquiet. PittHeron was no coward, and he was not the man to make too much of a risk. Yet it was

The affair in my eyes began to look very bad. Ethel wanted me to go to Scotland Yard, but I dissuaded her. I

have the utmost esteem for Scotland Yard, but I shrank from publicity at this stage. There might be

something in the case too delicate for the police to handle, and I thought it better to wait.

I reflected a great deal about the PittHeron business the first day or two of my trip, but the air and the swift

motion helped me to forget it. We had a fortnight of superb weather, and sailed all day through a glistening

green country under the hazy blue heavens of June. Soon I fell into the blissful state of physical and mental

ease which such a life induces. Hard toil, such as deerstalking, keeps the nerves on the alert and the mind

active, but swimming all day in a smooth car through a heavenly landscape mesmerises brain and body.

We ran up the Thames valley, explored the Cotswolds, and turned south through Somerset till we reached the

fringes of Exmoor. I stayed a day or two at a little inn high up in the moor, and spent the time tramping the

endless ridges of hill or scrambling in the arbutus thickets where the moor falls in steeps to the sea. We

returned by Dartmoor and the south coast, meeting with our first rain in Dorset, and sweeping into sunlight

again on Salisbury Plain. The time came when only two days remained to me. The car had behaved beyond

I wanted to be in London by the Monday afternoon, and to insure this I made a long day of it on the Sunday.

It was the long day which brought our pride to a fall. The car had run so well that I resolved to push on and

sleep in a friend's house near Farnham. It was about halfpast eight, and we were traversing the somewhat

confused and narrow roads in the neighbourhood of Wolmer Forest, when, as we turned a sharp corner, we

ran full into the tail of a heavy carrier's cart. Stagg clapped on the brakes, but the collision, though it did no

harm to the cart, was sufficient to send the buttend of something through our glass screen, damage the tyre

of the near front wheel, and derange the steeringgear. Neither of us suffered much hurt, but Stagg got a long

The carrier was friendly but useless, and there was nothing for it but to arrange for horses to take the car to

Farnham. This meant a job of some hours, and I found on inquiry at a neighbouring cottage that there was no

inn where I could stay within eight miles. Stagg borrowed a bicycle somehow and went off to collect horses,

I did not like the prospect of spending the June night beside my derelict car, and the thought of my friend's

house near Farnham beckoned me seductively. I might have walked there, but I did not know the road, and I

found that my shoulder was paining me, so I resolved to try to find some gentleman's house in the

neighbourhood where I could borrow a conveyance. The south of England is now so densely peopled by

Londoners that even in a wild district, where there are no inns and few farms, there are certain to be several

I walked along the white ribbon of road in the scented June dusk. At first it was bounded by high gorse, then

came patches of open heath, and then woods. Beyond the woods I found a parkrailing, and presently an

entrancegate with a lodge. It seemed to be the place I was looking for, and I woke the lodgekeeper, who

thus early had retired to bed. I asked the name of the owner, but was told the name of the place insteadit

was High Ashes. I asked if the owner was at home, and got a sleepy nod for answer.

The house, as seen in the halflight, was a long whitewashed cottage, rising to two storeys in the centre. It

was plentifully covered with creepers and roses, and the odour of flowers was mingled with the faintest

savour of woodsmoke, pleasant to a hungry traveller in the late hours. I pulled an oldfashioned bell, and

I explained my errand, and offered my card. I was, I said, a Member of Parliament and of the Bar, who had

suffered a motor accident. Would it be possible for the master of the house to assist me to get to my

destination near Farnham? I was bidden enter, and wearily seated myself on a settle in the hall.

In a few minutes an ancient housekeeper appeared, a grim dame whom at other times I should have

shunned. She bore, however, a hospitable message. There was no conveyance in the place, as the car had

gone that day to London for repairs. But if I cared to avail myself of the accommodation of the house for the

night it was at my service. Meantime my servant could be looking after the car, and a message would go to

I gratefully accepted, for my shoulder was growing troublesome, and was conducted up a shallow oak

staircase to a very pleasant bedroom with a bathroom adjoining. I had a bath, and afterwards found a variety

of comforts put at my service from slippers to razors. There was also some Elliman for my wounded

shoulder. Clean and refreshed I made my way downstairs and entered a room from which I caught a glow of

It was a library, the most attractive I think I have ever seen. The room was long, as libraries should be, and

entirely lined with books, save over the fireplace, where hung a fine picture which I took to be a Raeburn.

The books were in glass cases, which showed the beautiful shallow mouldings of a more artistic age. A table

was laid for dinner in a corner, for the room was immense, and the shaded candlesticks on it, along with the

late June dusk, gave such light as there was. At first I thought the place was empty, but as I crossed the floor

"Good evening, Mr Leithen," a voice said. "It is a kindly mischance which gives a lonely old man the

He switched on an electric lamp, and I saw before mewhat I had not guessed from the voicean old man.

I was thirtyfour at the time, and counted anything over fifty old, but I judged my host to be well on in the

sixties. He was about my own size, but a good deal bent in the shoulders, as if from study. His face was

cleanshaven and extraordinarily fine, with every feature delicately chiselled. He had a sort of Hapsburg

mouth and chin, very long and pointed, but modelled with a grace which made the full lower lip seem entirely

right. His hair was silver, brushed so low on the forehead as to give him a slightly foreign air, and he wore

Altogether it was a very dignified and agreeable figure who greeted me in a voice so full and soft that it

Dinner was a light meal, but perfect in its way. There were soles, I remember, an exceedingly wellcooked

chicken, fresh strawberries, and a savoury. We drank a '95 PerrierJonet and some excellent Madeira. The

stolid parlourmaid waited on us, and, as we talked of the weather and the Hampshire roads, I kept trying to

guess my host's profession. He was not a lawyer, for he had not the inevitable lines on the cheek. I thought

that he might be a retired Oxford don, or one of the higher civil servants, or perhaps some official of the

British Museum. His library proclaimed him a scholar, and his voice a gentleman.

Afterwards we settled ourselves in armchairs, and he gave me a good cigar. We talked about many

thingsbooks, the right furnishing of a library, a little politics, in deference to my M.P.ship. My host was

apathetic about party questions, but curious about defence matters, and in his way an amateur strategist. I

Then we wandered into foreign affairs, where I found his interest acute, and his knowledge immense. Indeed

he was so well informed that I began to suspect that my guesses had been wrong, and that he was a retired

diplomat. At that time there was some difficulty between France and Italy over customs duties, and he

sketched for me with remarkable clearness the weak points in the French tariff administration. I had been

recently engaged in a big South American railway case, and I asked him a question about the property of my

clients. He gave me a much better account than I had ever got from the solicitors who briefed me.

The fire had been lit before we finished dinner, and presently it began to burn up and light the figure of my

host, who sat in a deep armchair. He had taken off his tinted glasses, and as I rose to get a match I saw his

Somehow they reminded me of PittHeron. Charles had always a sort of dancing light in his, a restless

intelligence which was at once attractive and disquieting. My host had this and more. His eyes were paler

than I had ever seen in a human headpale, bright, and curiously wild. But, whereas PittHeron's had only

given the impression of reckless youth, this man's spoke of wisdom and power as well as of endless vitality.

All my theories vanished, for I could not believe that my host had ever followed any profession. If he had, he

would have been at the head of it, and the world would have been familiar with his features. I began to

wonder if my recollection was not playing me false, and I was in the presence of some great man whom I

As I dived into the recesses of my memory I heard his voice asking if I were not a lawyer.

I told him, Yes. A barrister with a fair commonlaw practice and some work in Privy Council appeals.

"It came handiest," I said. "I am a dry creature, who loves facts and logic. I am not a flier, I have no new

ideas, I don't want to lead men, and I like work. I am the ordinary educated Englishman, and my sort

gravitates to the Bar. We like feeling that, if we are not the builders, at any rate we are the cement of

"In a sense you are right. But civilisation needs more than the law to hold it together. You see, all mankind

"Of course there are further sanctions," I said. "Police and armies and the goodwill of civilisation."

He caught me up quickly. "The last is your true cement. Did you ever reflect, Mr Leithen, how precarious is

"I should have thought it fairly substantial," I said, "and the foundations grow daily firmer."

He laughed. "That is the lawyer's view, but, believe me, you are wrong. Reflect, and you will find that the

foundations are sand. You think that a wall as solid as the earth separates civilisation from barbarism. I tell

you the division is a thread, a sheet of glass. A touch here, a push there, and you bring back the reign of

It was the kind of paradoxical, undergraduate speculation which grown men indulge in sometimes after

dinner. I looked at my host to discover his mood, and at the moment a log flared up again.

"Take one little instance," he said. "We are a commercial world, and have built up a great system of credit.

Without our cheques and bills of exchange and currency the whole of our life would stop. But credit only

exists because behind it we have a standard of value. My Bank of England notes are worthless paper unless I

can get sovereigns for them if I choose. Forgive this elementary disquisition, but the point is important. We

have fixed a gold standard, because gold is sufficiently rare, and because it allows itself to be coined into a

portable form. I am aware that there are economists who say that the world could be run equally well on a

pure credit basis, with no metal currency at the back of it; but, however sound their argument may be in the

abstract, the thing is practically impossible. You would have to convert the whole of the world's stupidity to

"Now, suppose something happened to make our standard of value useless. Suppose the dream of the

alchemists came true, and all metals were readily transmutable. We have got very near it in recent years, as

you will know if you interest yourself in chemical science. Once gold and silver lost their intrinsic value, the

whole edifice of our commerce would collapse. Credit would become meaningless, because it would be

untranslatable. We should be back at a bound in the age of barter, for it is hard to see what other standard of

value could take the place of the precious metals. All our civilisation, with its industries and commerce,

would come toppling down. Once more, like primitive man, I would plant cabbages for a living, and

exchange them for services in kind from the cobbler and the butcher. We should have the simple life with a

vengeancenot the selfconscious simplicity of the civilised man, but the compulsory simplicity of the

I was not greatly impressed by the illustration. "Of course there are many keypoints in civilisation," I said,

"Not so strongly as you think. Consider how delicate the machine is growing. As life grows more complex,

the machinery grows more intricate, and therefore more vulnerable. Your socalled sanctions become so

infinitely numerous that each in itself is frail. In the Dark Ages you had one great powerthe terror of God

and His Church. Now you have a multiplicity of small things, all delicate and fragile, and strong only by our

"You forget one thing," I said"the fact that men really are agreed to keep the machine going. That is what I

He got up from his chair and walked up and down the floor, a curious dusky figure lit by the rare spurts of

"You have put your finger on the one thing that matters. Civilisation is a conspiracy. What value would your

police be if every criminal could find a sanctuary across the Channel, or your law courts, if no other tribunal

recognised their decisions? Modern life is the silent compact of comfortable folk to keep up pretences. And it

will succeed till the day comes when there is another compact to strip them bare."

I do not think that I have ever listened to a stranger conversation. It was not so much what he saidyou will

hear the same thing from any group of halfbaked young menas the air with which he said it. The room

was almost dark, but the man's personality seemed to take shape and bulk in the gloom. Though I could

scarcely see him, I knew that those pale strange eyes were looking at me. I wanted more light, but did not

know where to look for a switch. It was all so eerie and odd that I began to wonder if my host were not a little

"We won't dispute on the indisputable," I said. "But I should have thought that it was the interest of all the

"I wonder," he said slowly. "Do we really get the best brains working on the side of the compact? Take the

business of Government. When all is said, we are ruled by the amateurs and the secondrate. The methods of

our departments would bring any private firm to bankruptcy. The methods of Parliamentpardon

mewould disgrace any board of directors. Our rulers pretend to buy expert knowledge, but they never pay

the price for it that a business man would pay, and if they get it they have not the courage to use it. Where is

"And yet knowledge is the only powernow as ever. A little mechanical device will wreck your navies. A

new chemical combination will upset every rule of war. It is the same with our commerce. One or two minute

changes might sink Britain to the level of Ecuador, or give China the key of the world's wealth. And yet we

never dream that these things are possible. We think our castles of sand are the ramparts of the universe."

I have never had the gift of the gab, but I admire it in others. There is a morbid charm in such talk, a kind of

exhilaration, of which one is half ashamed. I found myself interested, and more than a little impressed.

"But surely," I said, "the first thing a discoverer does is to make his discovery public. He wants the honour

and glory, and he wants money for it. It becomes part of the world's knowledge, and everything is readjusted

to meet it. That was what happened with electricity. You call our civilisation a machine, but it is something

"That might be true if the new knowledge really became the world's property. But does it? I read now and

then in the papers that some eminent scientist had made a great discovery. He reads a paper before some

Academy of Science, and there are leading articles on it, and his photograph adorns the magazines. That kind

of man is not the danger. He is a bit of the machine, a party to the compact. It is the men who stand outside it

that are to be reckoned with, the artists in discovery who will never use their knowledge till they can use it

with full effect. Believe me, the biggest brains are without the ring which we call civilisation."

Then his voice seemed to hesitate. "You may hear people say that submarines have done away with the

battleship, and that aircraft have annulled the mastery of the sea. That is what our pessimists say. But do you

imagine that the clumsy submarine or the fragile aeroplane is really the last word of science?"

"No doubt they will develop," I said, "but by that time the power of the defence will have advanced also."

He shook his head. "It is not so. Even now the knowledge which makes possible great engines of destruction

is far beyond the capacity of any defence. You see only the productions of secondrate folk who are in a

hurry to get wealth and fame. The true knowledge, the deadly knowledge, is still kept secret. But, believe me,

He paused for a second, and I saw the faint outline of the smoke from his cigar against the background of the

dark. Then he quoted me one or two cases, slowly, as if in some doubt about the wisdom of his words.

It was these cases that startled me. They were of different kindsa great calamity, a sudden breach between

two nations, a blight on a vital crop, a war, a pestilence. I will not repeat them. I do not think I believed in

them then, and now I believe less. But they were horribly impressive, as told in that quiet voice in that

sombre room on that dark June night. If he was right, these things had not been the work of Nature or

accident, but of a devilish art. The nameless brains that he spoke of, working silently in the background, now

and then showed their power by some cataclysmic revelation. I did not believe him, but, as he put the case,

showing with strange clearness the steps in the game, I had no words to protest.

"What you describe is superanarchy, and yet it makes no headway. What is the motive of those diabolical

He laughed. "How should I be able to tell you? I am a humble inquirer, and in my researches I come on

curious bits of fact. But I cannot pry into motives. I only know of the existence of great extrasocial

intelligences. Let us say that they distrust the machine. They may be idealists and desire to make a new

world, or they may simply be artists, loving for its own sake the pursuit of truth. If I were to hazard a guess, I

should say that it took both types to bring about results, for the second find the knowledge and the first the

A recollection came back to me. It was of a hot upland meadow in Tyrol, where among acres of flowers and

beside a leaping stream I was breakfasting after a morning spent in climbing the white crags. I had picked up

a German on the way, a small man of the Professor class, who did me the honour to share my sandwiches. He

conversed fluently but quaintly in English, and he was, I remember, a Nietzschean and a hot rebel against the

established order. "The pity," he cried, "is that the reformers do not know, and those who know are too idle to

reform. Some day there will come the marriage of knowledge and will, and then the world will march."

"You draw an awful picture," I said. "But if those extrasocial brains are so potent, why after all do they

effect so little? A dull policeofficer, with the machine behind him, can afford to laugh at most experiments

"True," he said, "and civilisation will win until its enemies learn from it the importance of the machine. The

compact must endure until there is a countercompact. Consider the ways of that form of foolishness which

today we call nihilism or anarchy. A few illiterate bandits in a Paris slum defy the world, and in a week they

are in jail. Half a dozen crazy Russian intellectuels in Geneva conspire to upset the Romanovs, and are

hunted down by the police of Europe. All the Governments and their not very intelligent police forces join

hands, and hey, presto! there is an end of the conspirators. For civilisation knows how to use such powers as

it has, while the immense potentiality of the unlicensed is dissipated in vapour. Civilisation wins because it is

Again he stopped and rose from his chair. He found a switch and flooded the room with light. I glanced up

blinking to see my host smiling down on me, a most benevolent and courteous old gentleman. He had

"Forgive me," he said, "for leaving you in darkness while I bored you with my gloomy prognostications. A

He handed the cigarbox to me, and pointed to a table where whisky and mineral waters had been set out.

"I saidsupposing anarchy learned from civilisation and became international. Oh, I don't mean the bands of

advertising donkeys who call themselves International Unions of Workers and suchlike rubbish. I mean if the

real brainstuff of the world were internationalised. Suppose that the links in the cordon of civilisation were

neutralised by other links in a far more potent chain. The earth is seething with incoherent power and

unorganised intelligence. Have you ever reflected on the case of China? There you have millions of quick

brains stifled in trumpery crafts. They have no direction, no driving power, so the sum of their efforts is

futile, and the world laughs at China. Europe throws her a million or two on loan now and then, and she

cynically responds by begging the prayers of Christendom. And yet, I say, supposing"

"It's a horrible idea," I said, "and, thank God, I don't believe it possible. Mere destruction is too barren a creed

"It would scarcely be destruction," he replied gently. "Let us call it iconoclasm, the swallowing of formulas,

which has always had its full retinue of idealists. And you do not want a Napoleon. All that is needed is

direction, which could be given by men of far lower gifts than a Bonaparte. In a word, you want a

I got up, for the hour was late, and I had had enough of this viewy talk. My host was smiling, and I think that

smile was the thing I really disliked about him. It was toowhat shall I say?superior and Olympian.

As he led me into the hall he apologised for indulging his whims. "But you, as a lawyer, should welcome the

idea. If there is an atom of truth in my fancies, your task is far bigger than you thought. You are not

defending an easy case, but fighting in a contest where the issues are still doubtful. That should encourage

By all the rules I should have been sleepy, for it was past midnight, and I had had a long day in the open air.

But t hat wretched talk had unsettled me, and I could not get my mind off it. I have reproduced very crudely

the substance of my host's conversation, but no words of mine could do justice to his eery persuasiveness.

There was a kind of magnetism in the man, a sense of vast powers and bankedup fires, which would have

given weight to the tritest platitudes. I had a horrible feeling that he was trying to convince me, to fascinate

me, to prepare the ground for some proposal. Again and again I told myself it was crazy nonsense, the heated

dream of a visionary, but again and again I came back to some detail which had a horrid air of reality. If the

I flung open my bedroom window and let in the soft air of the June night and the scents from leagues of

clover and pines and sweet grasses. It momentarily refreshed me for I could not believe that this homely and

But always that phrase of his, the "PowerHouse," kept recurring. You know how twisted your thoughts get

during a wakeful night, and long before I fell asleep towards morning I had worked myself up into a very

complete dislike of that bland and smiling gentleman, my host. Suddenly it occurred to me that I did not

I did not wait to be called, but rose about seven, dressed, and went downstairs. I heard the sound of a car on

the gravel of the drive, and to my delight saw that Stagg had arrived I wanted to get away from the house as

The grim housekeeper, who answered my summons, received my explanation in silence. Breakfast would be

So that was my host's name. I sat down at a bureau in the hall and did a wildly foolish thing.

I wrote a letter, beginning "Dear Mr Lumley," thanking him for his kindness and explaining the reason of my

early departure. It was imperative, I said, that I should be in London by midday. Then I added: "I wish I had

known who you were last night, for I think you know an old friend of mine, Charles PittHeron."

Breakfastless I joined Stagg in the car, aud soon we were swinging down from the uplands to the shallow

vale of the Wey. My thoughts were very little on my new toy or on the midsummer beauties of Surrey. The

friend of PittHeron, who knew about his going to Bokhara, was the maniac who dreamed of the

"PowerHouse." There were going to be dark scenes in the drama before it was played out.

MY first thought, as I journeyed towards London, was that I was horribly alone in this business.

Whatever was to be done I must do it myself, for the truth was I had no evidence which any authority would

recognise. PittHeron was the friend of a strange being who collected objects of art, probably passed under

an alias in South London, and had absurd visions of the end of civilisation. That, in cold black and white, was

all my story came to. If I went to the police they would laugh at me, and they would be right.

Now I am a sober and practical person, but, slender though my evidence was, it brought to my mind the most

absolute conviction. I seemed to know PittHeron's story as if I had heard it from his own lipshis first

meeting with Lumley and their growing friendship; his initiation into secret and forbidden things; the revolt

of the decent man, appalled that his freakishness had led him so far; the realisation that he could not break so

easily with his past and that Lumley held him in his power; and last, the mad flight under the pressure of

I could read, too, the purpose of that flight. He knew the Indian frontier as few men know it, and in the wild

tangle of the Pamirs he hoped to baffle his enemy. Then from some far refuge he would send for his wife, and

spend the rest of his days in exile. It must have been an omnipotent terror to drive such a man, young,

But Lumley was on his trail. So I read the telegram I had picked up on the floor of the Blackheath house, and

my business was to frustrate the pursuit. Someone must have gone to Bokhara, some creature of Lumley's,

perhaps the superbutler I had met in the County Court. The telegram, for I had noted the date, had been

received on the 27th day of May. It was now the 15th of June, so if someone had started immediately on its

I must find out who had gone, and endeavour to warn Tommy. I calculated that it would have taken him

seven or eight days to get from Moscow by the Transcaspian probably he would find PittHeron gone, but

inquiries would set him on the track. I might be able to get in touch with him through the Russian officials. In

any case, if Lumley were stalking PittHeron, I, unknown and unsuspected, would be stalking Lumley.

The wretched letter I had written that morning had given the whole show away. Lumley knew that I was a

friend of PittHeron, and that I knew that he was a friend of PittHeron. If my guess was right, friendship

with Lumley was not a thing Charles was likely to confess to, and he would argue that my knowledge of it

meant that I was in Charles's confidence. I would therefore know of his disappearance and its cause, and

alone in London would connect it with the decorous bachelor of the Albany. My letter was a warning to him

that he could not play the game unobserved, and I, too, would be suspect in his eyes.

It was no good crying over spilt milk, and Lumley's suspicions must be accepted. But I confess that the

thought gave me the shivers. The man had a curious terror for me, a terror I cannot hope to analyse and

reproduce for you. My bald words can give no idea of the magnetic force of his talk, the sense of brooking

and unholy craft. I was proposing to match my wits against a master'sone, too, who must have at his

command an organisation far beyond my puny efforts. I have said that my first feeling was that of loneliness

and isolation; my second was one of hopeless insignificance. It was a boy's mechanical toy arrayed against a

At that time I had a friend in one of the Embassies, whose acquaintance I had made on a dryfly stream in

Hampshire. I will not tell you his name, for he has since become a great figure in the world's diplomacy, and I

am by no means certain that the part he played in this tale was strictly in accordance with official etiquette. I

had assisted him on the legal side in some of the international worries that beset all Embassies, and we had

reached the point of intimacy which is marked by the use of Christian names and by dining frequently

together. Let us call him Monsieur Felix. He was a grave young man, slightly my senior, learned, discreet,

and ambitious, but with an engaging boyishness cropping up now and then under the official gold lace. It

occurred to me that in him I might find an ally. I reached London about eleven in the morning, and went

straight to Belgrave Square. Felix I found in the little library off the big secretaries' room, a sunburnt

sportsman fresh from a Norwegian salmon river. I asked him if he had half an hour to spare, and was told that

"Well, here is my trouble. I have reason to believe that Tommy has joined PittHeron in Bokhara. If he has,

my mind will be greatly relieved, for, though I can't tell you the story, I can tell you that PittHeron is in very

Felix reflected. "That should be simple enough. I can wire in cypher to the Military Governor. The police

there are pretty efficient, as you may imagine, and travellers don't come and go without being remarked. I

should be able to give you an answer within twentyfour hours. But I must describe Tommy. How does one

"I want you to tell me another thing," I said. "You remember that PittHeron has some reputation as a Central

Asian traveller. Tommy, as you know, is as mad as a hatter. Suppose these two fellows at Bokhara, wanting

to make a long trek into wild countryhow would they go? You've been there, and know the lie of the land."

Felix got down a big German atlas, and for half an hour we pored over it. From Bokhara, he said, the only

routes for madmen ran to the south. East and north you got into Siberia; west lay the Transcaspian desert; but

southward you might go through the Hissar range by Pamirski Post to Gilgit and Kashmir, or you might

follow up the Oxus and enter the north of Afghanistan, or you might go by Merv into northeastern Persia.

I asked him to put in his cable a suggestion about watching the Indian roads, and left him with a promise of

Then I went down to the Temple, fixed some consultations, and spent a quiet evening in my rooms. I had a

heavy sense of impending disaster, not unnatural in the circumstances. I really cannot think what it was that

held me to the job, for I don't mind admitting that I felt pretty queasy about it. Partly, no doubt, liking for

Tommy and Ethel, partly regret for that unfortunate fellow PittHeron, most of all, I think, dislike of Lumley.

That night I went carefully over every item in the evidence to try and decide on my next step. I had got to

find out more about my enemies. Lumley, I was pretty certain, would baffle me, but I thought I might have a

better chance with the superbutler. As it turned out, I hit his trail almost at once.

Next day I was in a case at the Old Bailey. It was an important prosecution for fraud, and I appeared, with

two leaders, for the bank concerned. The amazing and almost incredible thing about this story of mine is the

way clues kept rolling in unsolicited, and I was to get another from this dull prosecution. I suppose that the

explanation is that the world is full of clues to everything, and that if a man's mind is sharpset on any quest,

he happens to notice and take advantage of what otherwise he would miss. My leaders were both absent the

Towards the close of the afternoon I put a fellow in the box, an oldish, drinksodden clerk from a Cannon

Street bucketshop. His evidence was valuable for our case, but I was very doubtful how he would stand a

crossexamination as to credit. His name was Routh, and he spoke with a strong Northcountry accent. But

what caught my attention was his face. His jaw looked as if it had been made in two pieces which did not fit,

and he had little, bright, protuberant eyes. At my first glance I was conscious of a recollection.

He was still in the box when the Court rose, and I informed the solicitors that before going further I wanted a

conference with the witness. I mentioned also that I should like to see him alone. A few minutes later he was

brought to my Chambers, and I put one or two obvious questions on the case, till the managing clerk who

accompanied him announced with many excuses that he must hurry away. Then I shut the door, gave Mr

He was a pathetic being, only too ready to talk. I learned the squalid details of his continuous misfortunes. He

had been the son of a dissenting minister in Northumberland, and had drifted through half a dozen

occupations till he found his present unsavoury billet. Truth was written large on his statement; he had

nothing to conceal, for his foible was folly, not crime, and he had not a rag of pride to give him reticence. He

boasted that he was a gentleman and welleducated, too, but he had never had a chance. His brother had

advised him badly; his brother was too clever for a prosaic world; always through his reminiscences came

It was about the brother I wanted to know, and Mr Routh was very willing to speak. Indeed, it was hard to

disentangle facts from his copious outpourings. The brother had been an engineer and a highly successful

one; had dallied with politics, too, and had been a great inventor. He had put Mr Routh on to a South

American speculation, where he had made a little money, but speedily lost it again. Oh, he had been a good

brother in his way, and had often helped him, but he was a busy man, and his help never went quite far

enough. Besides, he did not like to apply to him too often. I gathered that the brother was not a person to take

"Ah," said Mr Routh, "that is what I wish I could tell you. I will not conceal from you that for the moment I

am in considerable financial straits, and this case, though my hands are clean enough, God knows, will not

make life easier for me. My brother is a mysterious man, whose business often takes him abroad. I have never

known even his address, for I write always to a London office from which my communications are

forwarded. I only know that he is in some big electrical business, for I remember that he once let drop the

remark that he was in charge of some power station. No, I do not think it is in London; probably somewhere

abroad. I heard from him a fortnight ago, and he told me he was just leaving England for a couple of months.

"Do you know, Mr Routh," I said, "I believe I have met your brother. Is he like you in any way?"

"We have a strong family resemblance, but he is taller and slimmer. He has been more prosperous, and has

"Do you happen to know," I asked, "if he ever uses another name? I don't think that the man I knew was

The clerk flushed. "I think it highly unlikely that my brother would use an alias. He has done nothing to

I told him that my memory had played me false, and we parted on very good terms. He was an innocent soul,

one of those people that clever rascals get to do their dirty work for them. But there was no mistaking the

resemblance. There, without the brains and force and virility, went my superbutler of Blackheath, who

The clerk had given me the name of the office to whose address he had written to his brother. I was not

surprised to find that it was that of the firm of stockbrokers for whom I was still acting in the bearerbonds

I rang up the partner whom I knew, and told him a very plausible story of having a message for one of Mr

Pavia's servants, and asked him if he were in touch with them and could forward letters. He made me hold the

line, and then came back and told me that he had forwarded letters for Tuke, the butler, and one Routh who

was a groom or footman. Tuke had gone abroad to join his master and he did not know his address. But he

I thanked him and rang off. That was settled, anyhow. Tuke's real name was Routh, and it was Tuke who had

My next step was to ring up Macgillivray at Scotland Yard and get an appointment in half an hour's time.

Macgillivray had been at the BarI had read in his Chambersand was now one of the heads of the

Criminal Investigation Department. I was about to ask him for information which he was in no way bound to

I asked him first whether he had ever heard of a secret organisation which went under the name of the

"I should think we have several hundreds of such pet names on our records," he said. "Everything from the

Lodge of the Baldfaced Ravens to Solomon's Seal No X. Fancy nomenclature is the relaxation of the tired

anarchist and matters very little. The dangerous fellows have no names, no numbers even, which we can get

hold of. But I'll get a man to look up our records. There may be something filed about your PowerHouse."

My second question he answered differently. "Routh! Routh! Why, yes, there was a Routh we had dealings

with a dozen years ago when I used to go the NorthEastern Circuit. He was a Trade Union official who

bagged the funds, and they couldn't bring him to justice because of the ridiculous extralegal status they

possess. He knew it, and played their own privileges against them. Oh yes, he was a very complete rogue. I

once saw him at a meeting in Sunderland, and I remember his facesneering eyes, diabolically clever

mouth, and with it all as smug as a family butler. He has disappeared from Englandat least we haven't

Macgillivray took from a lettered cabinet a bundle of cards, selected one, and tossed it towards me. It was

that of a man of thirty or so, with short sidewhiskers and a drooping moustache. The eyes, the illfitting

jaw, and the brow were those of my friend Mr Tuke, brother and patron of the sorrowful Mr Routh, who had

Macgillivray promised to make certain inquiries, and I walked home in a state of elation. Now I knew for

certain who had gone to Bokhara, and I knew something, too, of the traveller's past. A discredited genius was

the very man for Lumley's schemesone who asked for nothing better than to use his brains outside the

ringfence of convention. Somewhere in the wastes of Turkestan the exTrade Union official was in search

I dined at the club and left early. Going home, I had an impression that I was being shadowed.

You know the feeling that someone is watching you, a sort of sensation which the mind receives without

actual evidence. If the watcher is behind, where you can't see him, you have a cold feeling between your

shoulders. I daresay it is a legacy from the days when the caveman had to look pretty sharp to keep from

It was a bright summer evening, and Piccadilly had its usual crowd of motorcars and buses and foot

passengers. I halted twice, once in St James's Street and once at the corner of Stratton Street, aud retraced my

steps for a bit; and each time I had the impression that someone a hundred yards or so off had done the same.

My instinct was to turn round and face him, whoever he was, but I saw that that was foolishness. Obviously

in such a crowd I could get no certainty in the matter, so I put it out of my mind.

I spent the rest of the evening in my rooms, reading cases and trying to keep my thoughts off Central Asia.

About ten I was rung up on the telephone by Felix. He had had his answer from Bokhara. PittHeron had left

with a small caravan on June 2nd by the main road through the Hissar range. Tommy had arrived on June

10th, and on the 12th had set off with two servants on the same trail. Travelling the lighter of the two, he

That was yesterday, and my mind was immensely relieved. Tommy in such a situation was a tower of

strength, for, whatever his failings in politics, I knew no one I would rather have with me to go

Next day the sense of espionage increased. I was in the habit of walking down to the Temple by way of Pall

Mall and the Embankment, but, as I did not happen to be in Court that morning, I resolved to make a detour

and test my suspicions. There seemed to be nobody in Down Street as I emerged from my flat, but I had not

walked five yards before, turning back, I saw a man enter from the Piccadilly end, while another moved

across the Hertford Street opening. It may have been only my imagination, but I was convinced that these

I walked up Park Lane, for it seemed to me that by taking the Tube at the Marble Arch Station I could bring

matters to the proof. I have a knack of observing small irrelevant details, and I happened to have noticed that

a certain carriage in the train which left Marble Arch about 9.30 stopped exactly opposite the exit at the

Chancery Lane Station, and by hurrying up the passage one could just catch the lift which served an earlier

I performed this man�uvre with success, caught the early lift, reached the street, and took cover behind a

pillarbox, from which I could watch the exit of passengers from the stairs. I judged that my tracker, if he

missed me below, would run up the stairs rather than wait on the lift. Sure enough, a breathless gentleman

appeared, who scanned the street eagerly, and then turned to the lift to watch the emerging passengers. It was

I walked slowly to my Chambers, and got through the day's work as best I could, for my mind was

preoccupied with the unpleasant business in which I found myself entangled. I would have given a year's

income to be honestly quit of it, but there seemed to be no way of escape. The maddening thing was that I

could do so little. There was no chance of forgetting anxiety in strenuous work. I could only wait with the

patience at my command, and hope for the one chance in a thousand which I might seize. I felt miserably that

it was no game for me. I had never been brought up to harry wild beasts and risk my neck twice a day at polo

like Tommy Deloraine. I was a peaceful sedentary man, a lover of a quiet life, with no appetite for perils and

At four o'clock I left the Temple and walked to the Embassy. I had resolved to banish the espionage from my

Felix gave me an hour of his valuable time. It was something that Tommy had joined PittHeron, but there

were other matters to be arranged in that far country. The time had come, in my opinion, to tell him the whole

The telling was a huge relief to my mind. He did not laugh at me as I had half feared, but took the whole

thing as gravely as possible. In his profession, I fancy, he had found too many certainties behind suspicions to

treat anything as trivial. The next step, he said, was to warn the Russian police of the presence of the man

called Saronov and the superbutler. Happily we had materials for the description of Tuke or Routh, and I

could not believe that such a figure would be hard to trace. Felix cabled again in cypher, asking that the two

should be watched, more especially if there was reason to believe that they had followed Tommy's route.

Once more we got out the big map and discussed the possible ways. It seemed to me a land created by

Providence for surprises, for the roads followed the valleys, and to the man who travelled light there must be

I left the Embassy before six o'clock and, crossing the Square engrossed with my own thoughts, ran full into

I hope I played my part well, though I could not repress a start of surprise. He wore a grey morningcoat and

I murmured something about my regrets at my early departure three days ago, and added the feeble joke that I

wished he would hurry on his Twilight of Civilisation, for the burden of it was becoming too much for me.

He looked me in the eyes with all the friendliness in the world. "So you have not forgotten our evening's talk?

You owe me something, my friend, for giving you a new interest in your profession."

"I owe you much," I said, "for your hospitality, your advice, and your warnings."

"I am going to make a call in Grosvenor Place," he said, "and shall beg in return the pleasure of your

With an ingenuous countenance I explained that he had been at Oxford with me and that we had common

"A brilliant young man," said Lumley. "Like you, he has occasionally cheered an old man's solitude. And he

"Yes," I said, lying stoutly. "He used to tell me about your collections." (If Lumley knew Charles well he

would find me out, for the latter would not have crossed the road for all treasures of the Louvre.)

"Ah, yes, I have picked up a few things. If ever you should care to see them I should be honoured. You are a

connoisseur? Of a sort? You interest me, for I should have thought your taste lay in other directions than the

dead things of art. PittHeron is no collector. He loves life better than art, as a young man should. A great

We stopped at a house in Grosvenor Place, and he relinquished my arm. "Mr Leithen," he said, "a word from

one who wishes you no ill. You are a friend of PittHeron, but where he goes you cannot follow. Take my

advice and keep out of his affairs. You will do no good to him, and you may bring yourself into serious

danger. You are a man of sense, a practical man, so I speak to you frankly. But, remember, I do not warn

He took off his glasses, and his light, wild eyes looked me straight in the face. All benevolence had gone, and

something implacable and deadly burned in them. Before I could say a word in reply he shuffled up the steps

THAT meeting with Lumley scared me badly, but it also clinched my resolution. The most pacific fellow on

earth can be gingered into pugnacity. I had now more than my friendship for Tommy and my sympathy with

PittHeron to urge me on. A man had tried to bully me, and that roused all the worst stubbornness of my

But I must have an ally if my nerves were to hold out, and my mind turned at once to Tommy's friend,

Chapman. I thought with comfort of the bluff independence of the Labour Member. So that night at the

He had been having a row with the young bloods of my party that afternoon and received me ungraciously.

"I'm about sick of you fellows," he growled. (I shall not attempt to reproduce Chapman's accent. He spoke

rich Yorkshire, with a touch of the drawl of the western dales.) "They went and spoiled the best speech,

though I say it as shouldn't, which this old place has heard for a twelvemonth. I've been workin' for days at it

in the Library. I was tellin' them how much more bread cost under Protection, and the Jew Hilderstein started

a laugh because I said kilometres for kilogrammes. It was just a slip o' the tongue, for I had it right in my

notes, and besides, these furrin words don't matter a curse. Then that young lord as sits for East Claygate gets

up and goes out as I was gettin' into my peroration, and he drops his topper and knocks off old Higgins's

spectacles, and all the idiots laughed. After that I gave it them hot and strong, and got called to order. And

then Wattles, him as used to be as good a Socialist as me, replied for the Government and his blamed Board,

and said that the Board thought this and the Board thought that, and was blessed if the Board would stir its

stumps. Well I mind the day when I was hanging on to the Board's coattails in Hyde Park to keep it from

"I want you," I said, "to tell me about Routhyou know the fellow I meanthe exUnion leader."

"There you are, you Tories," he shouted, causing a pale Liberal Member on the next sofa to make a hurried

exit. "You can't fight fair. You hate the Unions, and you rake up any rotten old prejudice to discredit them.

I saw I could do nothing with Chapman unless I made a clean breast of it, so for the second time that day I

I couldn't have wished for a better audience. He got wildly excited before I was half through with it. No doubt

of the correctness of my evidence ever entered his head, for, like most of his party, he hated anarchism worse

than capitalism, and the notion of a highlycapitalised, highlyscientific, highlyundemocratic anarchism

Routh, he told me, had been a young engineer of a superior type, with a job in a big shop at Sheffield. He had

professed advanced political views, and, although he had strictly no business to be there, had taken a large

part in Trade Union work, and was treasurer of one big branch. Chapman had met him often at conferences

and on platforms, and had been impressed by the fertility and ingenuity of his mind and the boldness of his

purpose. He was the leader of the left wing of the movement, and had that gift of halfscientific,

halfphilosophic jargon which is dear at all times to the hearts of the halfbaked. A seat in Parliament had

been repeatedly offered him, but he had always declined; wisely, Chapman thought, for he judged him the

But with all his ability he had not been popular. "He was a coldblooded, sneering devil," as Chapman put it,

"a sort of Parnell. He tyrannised over his followers, and he was the rudest brute I ever met."

Then followed the catastrophe, in which it became apparent that he had speculated with the funds of the

Union and had lost a large sum. Chapman, however, was suspicious of these losses, and was incLined to

suspect that he had the money all the time in a safe place. A year or two earlier the Unions, greatly to the

disgust of oldfashioned folk, had been given certain extralegal privileges, and this man Routh had been

one of the chief advocates of the Unions' claims. Now he had the cool effrontery to turn the tables on them,

There was nothing to be done. Some of the fellows, said Chapman, swore to wring his neck, but he did not

give them the chance. He had disappeared from England, and was generally believed to be living in some

"What I would give to be even with the swine!" cried my friend, clenching and unclenching his big fist. "But

we're up against no small thing in Josiah Routh. There isn't a crime on earth he'd stick at, and he's as clever as

"If that's how you feel, I can trust you to back me up," I said. " And the first thing I want you to do is to come

and stay at my flat. God knows what may happen next, and two men are better than one. I tell you frankly,

Chapman had no objection. I accompanied him to his Bloomsbury lodgings, where he packed a bag, and we

returned to the Down Street fiat. The sight of his burly figure and sagacious face was a relief to me in the

Thus began my housekeeping with Chapman, one of the queerest episodes in my life. He was the best fellow

in the world, but I found that I had misjudged his character. To see him in the House you would have thought

him a piece of granite, with his Yorkshire bluntness and hard, downright, northcountry sense. He had all

that somewhere inside him, but he was also as romantic as a boy. The new situation delighted him. He was

quite clear that it was another case of the strife between Capital and LabourTommy and I standing for

Labour, though he used to refer to Tommy in public as a "gilded popinjay," and only a month before had

described me in the House as a " viperous lackey of Capitalism." It was the best kind of strife in which you

had not to meet your adversary with longwinded speeches, but might any moment get a chance to pummel

He made me ache with laughter. The spying business used to rouse him to fury. I don't think he was tracked

as I was, but he chose to fancy he was, and was guilty of assault and battery on one butcher's boy, two

cabbies, and a gentleman who turned out to be a bookmaker's assistant. This side of him got to be an infernal

nuisance, and I had many rows with him. Among other things, he chose to suspect my man Waters of

treacheryWaters, who was the son of a gardener at home, and hadn't wits enough to put up an umbrella

"You're not taking this business rightly," he maintained one night. "What's the good of waiting for these

devils to down you? Let's go out and down them." And he announced his intention, from which no words of

His resolution led to a complete disregard of his Parliamentary duties. Deputations of constituents waited for

him in vain. Of course he never got a sight of Lumley. All that happened was that he was very nearly given in

charge more than once for molesting peaceable citizens in the neighbourhood of Piccadilly and Regent Street.

One night on my way home from the Temple I saw in the bills of the evening papers the announcement of the

arrest of a Labour Member. It was Chapman, sure enough. At first I feared that he had got himself into

serious trouble, and was much relieved to find him in the flat in a state of blazing anger. It seemed that he had

found somebody whom he thought was Lumley, for he only knew him from my descriptions. The man was in

a shop in Jermyn Street, with a car waiting outside, and Chapman hadpolitely, as he sworeasked the

chauffeur his master's name. The chauffeur had replied abusively, upon which Chapman had haled him from

the driver's seat and shaken him till his teeth rattled. The owner came out, and Chapman was arrested and

taken off to the nearest police court. He had been compelled to apologise, and had been fined five pounds and

By the mercy of Heaven the chauffeur's master was a moneylender of evil repute, so the affair did Chapman

no harm. But I was forced to talk to him seriously. I knew it was no use explaining that for him to spy on the

PowerHouse was like an elephant stalking a gazelle. The only way was to appeal to his incurable

"Don't you see," I told him, "that you are playing Lumley's game? He will trap you sooner or later into some

escapade which will land you in jail, and where will I be then? That is what he and his friends are out for. We

He allowed himself to be convinced, and handed over to me the pistol he had bought, which had been the

"All right," he said, "I'll keep quiet. But you promise to let me into the big scrap when it comes off."

I promised. Chapman's notion of the grand finale was a Homeric combat in which he would get his fill of

He was an anxiety, but all the same he was an enormous comfort. His imperturbable cheerfulness and his

racy talk were the tonics I wanted. He had plenty of wisdom, too. My nerves were getting bad those days,

and, whereas I had rarely touched the things before, I now found myself smoking cigarettes from morning till

night. I am pretty abstemious, as you know, but I discovered to my horror that I was drinking far too many

whiskysandsodas. Chapman knocked me off all that, and got me back to a pipe and a modest nightcap.

He did more, for he undertook to put me in training. His notion was that we should win in the end by superior

muscles. He was a square, thickset fellow, who had been a good middleweight boxer. I could box a bit

myself, but I improved mightily under his tuition. We got some gloves, and used to hammer each other for

half an hour every morning. Then might have been seen the shameful spectacle of a rising barrister with a

swollen lip and a black eye arguing in Court and proceeding of an evening to his country's legislature, where

he was confronted from the opposite benches by the sight of a Leader of the People in the same vulgar

In those days I wanted all the relief I could get, for it was a beastly time. I knew I was in grave danger, so I

made my will and went through the other doleful performances consequent on the expectation of a speedy

decease. You see I had nothing to grip on, no clear job to tackle, only to wait on the offchance, with an

atmosphere of suspicion thickening around me. The spying went onthere was no mistake about thatbut I

soon ceased to mind it, though I did my best to give my watchers little satisfaction. There was a hint of

bullying about the spying. It is disconcerting at night to have a man bump against you and look you greedily

I did not go again to Scotland Yard, but one night I ran across Macgillivray in the club.

He had something of profound interest to tell me. I had asked about the phrase, the "PowerHouse." Well, he

had come across it, in the letter of a German friend, a private letter, in which the writer gave the results of his

I have forgotten the details, but it had something to do with the Slav States of Austria and an Italian Students'

Union, and it threatened at one time to be dangerous. Macgillivray's correspondent said that in some

documents which were seized he found constant allusion to a thing called the Krafthaus, evidently the

headquarters staff of the plot. And this same word Krafthaus had appeared elsewherein a sonnet of a

poetanarchist who shot himself in the slums of Antwerp, in the last ravings of more than one criminal, in the

extraordinary testament of Professor M of Jena, who, at the age of thirtyseven, took his life after

Macgillivray's correspondent concluded by saying that, in his opinion, if this Krafthaus could be found, the

key would be discovered to the most dangerous secret organisation in the world. He added that he had some

"Macgillivray," I said, "you have known me for some time, and I fancy you think me a sober and discreet

person. Well, I believe I am on the edge of discovering the secret of your Krafthaus. I want you to promise

me that if in the next week I send you an urgent message you will act on it, however fantastic it seems. I can't

tell you more. I ask you to take me on trust, and believe that for anything I do I have tremendous reasons."

He knit his shaggy grey eyebrows and looked curiously at me. "Yes, I'll go bail for your sanity. It's a good

Next day I had news from Felix. Tuke and the man called Saronov had been identified. If you are making

inquiries about anybody it is fairly easy to find those who are seeking for the same person, and the Russian

police, in tracking Tommy and PittHeron, had easily come on the two gentlemen who were following the

same trail. The two had gone by Samarkand, evidently intending to strike into the hills by a shorter route than

the main road from Bokhara. The frontier posts had been warned, and the stalkers had become the stalked.

That was one solid achievement, at any rate. I had saved PittHeron from the worst danger, for first I had

sent him Tommy, and now I had put the police on guard against his enemies. I had not the slightest doubt that

enemies they were. Charles knew too much, and Tuke was the man appointed to reason with him, to bring

him back, if possible, or if not As Chapman had said, the exUnion leader was not the man to stick at

It was a broiling June, the London season was at its height, and I had never been so busy in the Courts before.

But that crowded and garish world was little more than a dream to me. I went through my daily tasks, dined

out, went to the play, had consultations, talked to my fellows, but all the while I had the feeling that I was

watching somebody else perform the same functions. I believe I did my work well, and I know I was twice

But my real interests were far away. Always I saw two men in the hot glens of the Oxus, with the fine dust of

the loess rising in yellow clouds behind them. One of these men had a drawn and anxious face, and both rode

hard. They passed by the closes of apricot and cherry and the green watered gardens, and soon the Oxus

ceased to flow wide among rushes and waterlilies and became a turbid hillstream. Byandby the roadside

changed, and the horses of the travellers trod on mountain turf, crushing the irises and marigolds and thyme. I

could feel the free air blowing from the roof of the world, and see far ahead the snowy saddle`of the pass

Far behind the riders I saw two others, and they chose a different way, now over waterless plateaux, now in

rugged nullahs. They rode the faster and their route was the shorter. Sooner or later they must catch up the

first riders, and I knew, though how I could not tell, that death would attend the meeting.

I, and only I, sitting in London four thousand miles away, could prevent disaster. The dream haunted me at

night, and often, walking in the Strand or sitting at a dinnertable, I have found my eyes fixed clearly on the

shining upland with the thin white mountains at the back of it, and the four dots, which were men, hurrying

One night I met Lumley. It was at a big political dinner given by the chief of my party in the House of

Lordsfifty or sixty guests, and a blaze of stars and decorations. I sat near the bottom of the table, and he

was near the top, sitting between a famous General and an exViceroy of India. I asked my righthand

neighbour who he was, but he could not tell me. The same question to my lefthand neighbour brought an

"It's old Lumley. Have you never met him? He doesn't go out much, but he gives a man's dinner now and

then, which are the best in London. No. He's not a politician, though he favours our side, and I expect has

given a lot to our funds. I can't think why they don't make him a Peer. He's enormously rich and very

generous, and the most learned old fellow in Britain. My Chief"my neighbour was an

UnderSecretary"knows him, and told me once that if you wanted any outoftheway bit of knowledge

you could get it by asking Lumley. I expect he pulls the strings more than anybody living. But he scarcely

ever goes out, and it's a feather in our host's cap to have got him tonight. You never see his name in the

papers, either. He probably pays the Press to keep him out, like some of those millionaire fellows in

I watched him through dinner. He was the centre of the talk at his end of the table. I could see the blue ribbon

bulging out on Lord Morecambe's breast as he leaned forward to question him. He was wearing some foreign

orders, including the Legion of Honour, and I could hear in the pauses of conversation echoes of his soft rich

voice. I could see him beaming through his glasses on his neighbours, and now and then he would take them

off and look mildly at a speaker. I wondered why nobody realised, as I did, what was in his light wild eyes.

The dinner, I believe, was excellent, and the company was good, but down at my end I could eat little, and I

did not want to talk. Here in this pleasant room, with servants moving softly about, and a mellow light on the

silver from the shaded candles, I felt the man was buttressed and defended beyond my reach. A kind of

despairing hatred gripped me when I looked his way. For I was always conscious of that other picturethe

Asian desert, PittHeron's hunted face, and the grim figure of Tuke on his trail. That, and the great secret

wheels of what was too inhuman to be called crime, moving throughout the globe under this man's hand.

There was a party afterwards, but I did not stay. No more did Lumley, and for a second I brushed against him

"You had better things to think of," I said. "By the way, you gave me good advice some weeks ago. It may

I WAS working late at the Temple next day, and it was nearly seven before I got up to go home. Macgillivray

had telephoned to me in the afternoon saying he wanted to see me and suggesting dinner at the club, and I

had told him I should come straight there from my Chambers. But just after six he had rung me up again and

"I've got some very important news for you and want to be quiet. There's a little place where I sometimes

I agreed, and sent a message to Chapman at the flat, telling him I would be out to dinner. It was a Wednesday

night, so the House rose early. He asked me where I was dining and I told him, but I did not mention with

It was a hot, still night, and I had had a heavy day in Court, so heavy that my private anxieties had almost

slipped from my mind. I walked along the Embankment, and up Regent Street towards Oxford Circus.

Antioch Street, as I had learned from the Directory, was in the area between Langham Place and Tottenham

Court Road. I wondered vaguely why Macgillivray should have chosen such an outoftheway spot, but I

The street, when I found it, turned out to be a respectable little placeboardinghouses and architects'

offices, with a few antiquity shops, and a picturecleaner's. The restaurant took some finding, for it was one

of those discreet establishments, common enough in France, where no edibles are displayed in the British

fashion, and muslin halfcurtains deck the windows. Only the doormat, lettered with the proprietor's name,

I gave a waiter my hat and stick and was ushered into a garish diningroom, apparently full of people. A

single violinist was discoursing music from beside the grill. The occupants were not quite the kind one

expects to find in an eatinghouse in a side street. The men were all in evening dress with white waistcoats,

and the women looked either demimondaines or those who follow their taste in clothes. Various eyes looked

curiously at me as I entered. I guessed that the restaurant had by one of those odd freaks of Londoners

The proprietor met me halfway up the room. He might call himself Rapaccini, but he was obviously a

"Mr Geelvrai," he nodded. "He has engaged a private room. Vill you follow, sir?"

A narrow stairway broke into the wall on the left side of the diningroom. I followed the manager up it and

along a short corridor to a door which filled its end. He ushered me into a brightlylit little room where a

"Mr Geelvrai comes often here," said the manager. "He vill be latesometimes. Everything is ready, sir. I

It looked inviting enough, but the air smelt stuffy. Then I saw that, though the night was warm, the window

was shut and the curtains drawn. I pulled back the curtains, and to my surprise saw that the shutters were

The manager glanced at the window. "I vill send a waiter," he said, and departed. The door seemed to shut

I flung myself down in one of the armchairs, for I was feeling pretty tired. The little table beckoned

alluringly, for I was also hungry. I remember there was a mass of pink roses on it. A bottle of champagne,

with the cork loose, stood in a winecooler on the sideboard, and there was an unopened bottle beside it. It

The promised waiter did not arrive, and the stuffiness was making me very thirsty. I looked for a bell, but

could not see one. My watch told me it was now a quarter to eight, but there was no sign of Macgillivray. I

poured myself out a glass of champagne from the opened bottle, and was just about to drink it, when my eye

It was one of those little midVictorian corner tablesI believe they call them "whatnots"which you

will find in any boardinghouse littered up with photographs and coral and "Presents from Brighton." On this

I crossed the room and picked it up. It showed a man of thirty, with short sidewhiskers, an illfitting jaw,

and a drooping moustache. The duplicate of it was in Macgillivray's cabinet. It was Mr Routh, the exUnion

There was nothing very remarkable about that after all, but it gave me a nasty shock. The room now seemed a

sinister place, as well as intolerably close. There was still no sign of the waiter to open the window, so I

But the door would not open. The handle would not turn. It did not seem to be locked, but rather to have shut

with some kind of patent spring. I noticed that the whole thing was a powerful piece of oak with a heavy

My first instinct was to make a deuce of a row and attract the attention of the diners below. I own I was

beginning to feel badly frightened. Clearly I had got into some sort of trap. Macgillivray's invitation might

have been a hoax, for it is not difficult to counterfeit a man's voice on the telephone. With an effort I forced

myself into calmness. It was preposterous to think that anything could happen to me in a room not thirty feet

from where a score or two of ordinary citizens were dining. I had only to raise my voice to bring inquirers.

Yes, but above all things I did not want a row. It would never do for a rising lawyer and a Member of

Parliament to be found shouting for help in an upper chamber of a Bloomsbury restaurant. The worst

deductions would be drawn from the open bottle of champagne. Besides, it might be all right after all. The

door might have got stuck. Macgillivray at that very moment might be on his way up.

So I sat down and waited. Then I remembered my thirst, and stretched out my hand to the glass of

But at that instant I looked towards the window, and set down the wine untasted.

It was a very odd window. The lower end was almost flush with the floor, and the hinges of the shutters

seemed to be only on one side. As I stared I began to wonder whether it was a window at all.

Next moment my doubts were solved. The window swung open like a door, and in the dark cavity stood a

A year before, on the SouthEastern Circuit, I had appeared for the defence in a burglary case. Criminal Law

was not my province, but now and then I took a case to keep my hand in, for it is the best training in the

world for the handling of witnesses. This case had been peculiar. A certain Bill Docken was the accused, a

gentleman who bore a bad reputation in the eyes of the police. The evidence against him was strong, but it

was more or less tainted, being chiefly that of two former accomplicesa proof that there is small truth in

the proverbial honour among thieves. It was an ugly business, and my sympathies were with the accused, for

though he may very well have been guilty, yet he had been the victim of a shabby trick. Anyhow I put my

back into the case, and after a hard struggle got a verdict of "Not Guilty." Mr Docken had been kind enough

to express his appreciation of my efforts, and to ask in a hoarse whisper how I had "squared the old bird,"

meaning the Judge. He did not understand the subtleties of the English law of evidence.

He shambled into the room, a huge hulking figure of a man, with the thickness of chest which under happier

circumstances might have made him a terror in the prizering. His features wore a heavy scowl which slowly

"I don't mind if I do," he said. "'Ere's 'ealth!" He swallowed the wine at a gulp and wiped his mouth on his

sleeve. "'Ave a drop yourself, guv'nor," he added. "A glass of bubbly will cheer you up."

"Well, Mr Docken," I said, "I hope I see you fit." I was getting wonderfully collected now that the suspense

"A little job I'm on. Some friends of mine wants you out of the road for a bit and they've sent me to fetch you.

It's a bit of luck for you that you've struck a friend. We needn't 'ave no unpleasantness seein' we're both what

"Dunno. It's some lay near the Docks. I've got a motorcar waitin' at the back of the 'ouse."

"My orders admits no excuse," he said solemnly. "You're a sensible chap, and can see that in a scrap I could

"Very likely," I said. "But, man, you must be mad to talk like that. Downstairs there is a diningroom full of

"You're a kid," he said scornfully. "Them geysers downstairs are all in the job. That was a flatcatching rig to

get you up here so as you wouldn't suspect nothing. If you was to go down nowwhich you ain't going to be

allowed to doyou wouldn't find a blamed soul in the place. I must say you're a bit softer than I 'oped after

It sounded horribly convincing. If I was to be kidnapped and smuggled away, Lumley would have scored half

a success. Not the whole; for, as I swiftly reflected, I had put Felix on the track of Tuke, and there was every

chance that Tommy and PittHeron would be saved. But for myself it looked pretty black. The more my

scheme succeeded the more likely the PowerHouse would be to wreak its vengeance on me once I was

"Mr Docken," I said, "I once did you a good turn. But for me you might be doing time now instead of

drinking champagne like a gentleman. Your pals played you a pretty low trick and that was why I stuck out

"No more I am," said he. "The man who says Bill Docken would go back on a pal is a liar."

"Well, here's your chance to pay your debts. The men who employ you are my deadly enemies and want to

do me in. I'm not a match for you. You're a stronger fellow and can drag me off and hand me over to them.

But if you do I'm done with. Make no mistake about that. I put it to you as a decent fellow. Are you going to

He shifted from one foot to another with his eyes on the ceiling. He was obviously in difficulties. Then he

"I dursn't, guv'nor. I dursn't let you go. Them I work for would cut my throat as soon as look at me. Besides it

ain't no good. If I was to go off and leave you there'd be plenty more in this 'ouse as would do the job. You're

up against it, guv'nor. But take a sensible view and come with me. They don't mean you no real 'arm. I'll take

my Bible oath on it. Only to keep you quiet for a bit, for you've run across one of their games. They won't do

"Yuss. I'm afraid. Black afraid. So would you be if you knew the gents. I'd rather take on the whole Rat Lane

crowdyou know them as I meanon a Saturday night when they're out for business than go back to my

"You're afraid," I said slowly. "So you're going to give me up to the men you're afraid of to do as they like

with me. I never expected it of you, Bill. I thought you were the kind of lad who would send any gang to the

"Don't say that," he said almost plaintively. "You don't 'alf know the 'ole I'm in." His eye seemed to be

Just then a great noise began below. I heard a voice speaking, a loud peremptory voice. Then my name was

There could be no mistaking that stout Yorkshire tongue. By some miracle Chapman had followed me and

My heart leaped with the sudden revulsion. "I'm here," I yelled. "Upstairs. Come up and let me out!"

"My friends have come," I said. "You're too late for the job. Get back and tell your masters that."

He was swaying on his feet, and he suddenly lurched towards me. "You come along. By God, you think

His voice was growing thick and he stopped short. "What the 'ell's wrong with me?" he gasped. "I'm goin' all

He was like a man far gone in liquor, but three glasses of champagne would never have touched a head like

"They've doped the wine," I cried. "They put it there for me to drink it and go to sleep."

There is always something which is the last straw to any man. You may insult and outrage him and he will

bear it patiently, but touch the quick in his temper and he will turn. Apparently for Bill drugging was the

unforgivable sin. His eye lost for a moment its confusion. He squared his shoulders and roared like a bull.

He turned a blazing face on the locked door and hurled his huge weight on it. It cracked and bent, but the lock

and hinges held. I could see that sleep was overwhelming him and that his limbs were stiffening, but his

anger was still strong enough for another effort. Again he drew himself together like a big cat and flung

himself on the woodwork. The hinges tore from the jambs and the whole outfit fell forward into the passage

It was Mr Docken's final effort. He lay on the top of the wreckage he had made, like Samson among the ruins

I picked up the unopened bottle of champagneit was the only weapon availableand stepped over his

As I expected, there was a man in the corridor, a little fellow in waiter's clothes with a tweed jacket instead of

a dresscoat. If he had a pistol I knew I was done, but I gambled upon the disinclination of the management

He had a knife, but he never had a chance to use it. My champagne bottle descended on his head and he

There were men coming upstairsnot Chapman, for I still heard his hoarse shouts in the diningroom. If

they once got up they could force me back through that hideous room by the door through which Docken had

There was only one thing to do. I jumped from the stairhead right down among them. I think there were

three, and my descent toppled them over. We rolled in a wild whirling mass and cascaded into the

I expected a bit of a grapple, but none came. My wits were pretty woolly, but I managed to scramble to my

feet. The heels of my enemies were disappearing up the staircase. Chapman was pawing my ribs to discover

if there were any bones broken. There was not another soul in the room except two policemen who were

Chapman was flushed and breathing heavily: his coat had a big split down the seams at the shoulder, but his

I caught his arm and spoke in his ear. "We've got to get out of this at once. How can we square these

"That's all right," said Chapman. "These bobbies are friends of mine, two good lads from Wensleydale. On

my road here I told them to give me a bit of law and follow me, for I thought they might be wanted. They

didn't come too soon to spoil sport, for I've been knocking furriners about for ten minutes. You seem to have

"Let's get home first," I said, for I was beginning to think of the bigger thing.

I wrote a chit for Macgillivray which I asked one of the constables to take to Scotland Yard. It was to beg that

nothing should be done yet in the business of the restaurant, and above all, that nothing should get into the

papers. Then I asked the other to see us home. It was a queer request for two ablebodied men to make on a

summer evening in the busiest part of London, but I was taking no chances. The PowerHouse had declared

I was in a fever to get out of that place. My momentary lust of battle had gone, and every stone of that

building seemed to me a threat. Chapman would have liked to spend a happy hour rummaging through the

house, but the gravity of my face persuaded him. The truth is, I was bewildered. I could not understand the

reason of this sudden attack. Lumley's spies must long ago have told him enough to connect me with the

Bokhara business. My visits to the Embassy alone were proof enough. But now he must have found out

something new, something which startled him, or else there had been wild doings in Turkestan.

I won't forget that walk home in a hurry. It was a fine July twilight. The streets were full of the usual crowd,

shopgirls in thin frocks, promenading clerks, and all the flotsam of a London summer. You would have said

it was the safest place on earth. But I was glad we had the policeman with us, who at the end of one beat

passed us on to his colleague, and I was glad of Chapman. For I am morally certain I would never have got

The queer thing is that there was no sign of trouble till we got into Oxford Street. Then I became aware that

there were people on these pavements who knew all about me. I first noticed it at the mouth of one of those

little dark sidealleys which run up into mews and small dingy courts. I found myself being skilfully edged

away from Chapman into the shadow, but I noticed it in time and butted my way back to the pavement. I

couldn't make out who the people were who hustled me. They seemed nondescripts of all sorts, but I fancied

This happened twice, and I got wary, but I was nearly caught before we reached Oxford Circus. There was a

front of a big shop rebuilding, and the usual wooden barricade with a gate. Just as we passed it there was a

special throng on the pavement, and I, being next the wall, got pushed against the gate. Suddenly it gave, and

I was pressed inward. I was right inside before I realised my danger, and the gate was closing. There must

It was no time for false pride. I yelled to Chapman, and the next second his burly shoulder was in the gap.

After that Chapman and I linked arms and struck across Mayfair. But I did not feel safe till I was in the flat

We had a long drink, and I stretched myself in an armchair, for I was as tired as if I had come out of a big

"I owe you a good deal, old man," I said. "I think I'll join the Labour Party. You can tell your fellows to send

The explanation was simple. I had mentioned the restaurant in my telephone message, and the name had

awakened a recollection in Chapman's mind. He could not fix it at first, but byandby he remembered that

the place had cropped up in the Routh case. Routh's London headquarters had been at the restaurant in

Antioch Street. As soon as he remembered this he got into a taxi and descended at the corner of the street,

He said he had marched into the restaurant and found it empty, but for an illfavoured manager, who denied

all knowledge of me. Then, fortunately, he chose to make certain by shouting my name, and heard my

answer. After that he knocked the manager down, and was presently assaulted by several men whom he

described as "furrin muck." They had knives, of which he made very little, for he seems to have swung a

He was on the top of his form. "I haven't enjoyed anything so much since I was a lad at school," he informed

me. "I was beginning to think your PowerHouse was a washout, but Lord! it's been busy enough tonight.

My spirits could not keep pace with his. The truth is that I was miserably puzzlednot afraid so much as

mystified, I couldn't make out this sudden deadset at me. Either they knew more than I bargained for, or I

"It's all very well," I said, "but I don't see how this is going to end. We can't keep up the pace long. At this

We pretty well barricaded ourselves in the flat, and, at his earnest request, I restored to Chapman his revolver.

Then I got the clue I had been longing for. It was about eleven o'clock, while we were sitting smoking, when

"I have news for you," he said. "The hunters have met the hunted, and one of the hunters is dead. The other is

It had been black murder in intent. The frontier police had shadowed the two men into the cup of a glen,

where they met Tommy and PittHeron. The four had spoken together for a little, and then Tuke had fired

deliberately at Charles and had grazed his ear. Whereupon Tommy had charged him and knocked the pistol

from his hand. The assailant had fled, but a long shot from the police on the hillside had toppled him over.

Tommy had felled Saronov with his fists, and the man had abjectly surrendered. He had confessed, Felix said,

MY nervousness and indecision dropped from me at the news. I had won the first round, and I would win the

last, for it suddenly became clear to me that I had now evidence which would blast Lumley. I believed that it

would not be hard to prove his identity with Pavia and his receipt of the telegram from Saronov; Tuke was his

creature, and Tuke's murderous mission was his doing. No doubt I knew little and could prove nothing about

the big thing, the PowerHouse, but conspiracy to murder is not the lightest of criminal charges. I was

beginning to see my way to checkmating my friend, at least so far as PittHeron was concerned.

Providedand it was a pretty big provisothat he gave me the chance to use my knowledge.

That, I foresaw, was going to be the difficulty. What I knew now Lumley had known hours before. The

reason of the affair at Antioch Street was now only too clear. If he believed that I had damning evidence

against himand there was no doubt he suspected itthen he would do his best to stop my mouth. I must

The next twentyfour hours, I feared, were going to be too sensational for comfort. And yet I cannot say that

I was afraid. I was too full of pride to be in a funk. I had lost my awe of Lumley through scoring a point

against him. Had I known more I should have been less at my ease. It was this confidence which prevented

me doing the obvious safe thingringing up Macgillivray, telling him the gist of my story, and getting him

to put me under police protection I thought I was clever enough to see the thing through myself. And it must

have been the same overconfidence which prevented Lumley getting at me that night. An organisation like

his could easily have got into the flat and done for us both. I suppose the explanation is that he did not yet

I sat up till the small hours, marshalling my evidence in a formal statement and making two copies of it. One

was destined for Macgillivray and the other for Felix, for I was taking no risks. I went to bed and slept

peacefully, and was awakened as usual by Waters. My man slept out, and used to turn up in the morning

about seven. It was all so normal and homely that I could have believed my adventures of the night before a

dream. In the summer sunlight the ways of darkness seemed very distant. I dressed in excellent spirits and

Then I gave the docile Chapman his instructions. He must take the document to Scotland Yard, ask to see

Macgillivray, and put it into his hands. Then he must ring me up at once at Down Street and tell me that he

had done this. I had already telephoned to my clerk that I would not be at the Temple that day.

It seems a simple thing to travel less than a mile in the most frequented part of London in broad daylight and

perform an easy act like carrying a letter; but I knew that Lumley's spies would be active, and would connect

Chapman sufficiently with me to think him worth following. In that case there might be an attempt at

violence. I thought it my duty to tell him this, but he laughed me to scorn. He proposed to walk, and he

begged to be shown the man who would meddle with him. Chapman, after last night, was prepared to take on

all comers. He put my letter to Macgillivray in his inner pocket, buttoned his coat, crushed down his felt hat

I expected a message from him in half an hour, for he was a rapid walker. But the halfhour passed, then the

threequarters, and nothing happened. At eleven I rang up Scotland Yard, but they had no news of him.

Then I became miserably anxious, for it was clear that some disaster had overtaken my messenger. My first

impulse was to set out myself to look for him, but a moment's reflection convinced me that that would be

playing into the enemy's hands. For an hour I wrestled with my impatience, and then a few minutes after

A young doctor spoke, and said that Mr Chapman had asked him to tell me what had happened. He had been

run down by a motorcar at the corner of Whitehallnothing seriousonly a bad shake and some scalp

Then he added what drove the blood from my heart. "Mr Chapman personally wished me to tell you," he

said, "that the letter has gone." I stammered some reply asking his meaning. "He said he thinks," I was told,

"that, while he was being assisted to his feet, his pocket was picked and a letter taken. He said you would

I knew only too well what he meant. Lumley had got my statement, and realised precisely how much I knew

and what was the weight of evidence against him. Before he had only suspected, now he knew. He must

know, too, that there would be a copy somewhere which I would try to deliver. It was going to be harder than

I had fancied to get my news to the proper ears, and I had to anticipate the extreme of violence on the part of

The thought of the peril restored my coolness. I locked the outer door of my flat, and telephoned to the garage

where I kept my car, bidding Stagg call for me at two o'clock precisely. Then I lit a pipe and strove to banish

Presently it occurred to me to ring up Felix and give him some notion of the position. But I found that my

telephone was now broken and connection was impossible. The spoken as well as the written word was to be

denied me. That had happened in the last halfhour, and I didn't believe it was by accident. Also my man

Waters, whom I had sent out on an errand after breakfast, had never returned. The state of siege had begun.

It was a blazing hot midsummer day. The watercarts were sprinkling Piccadilly, and looking from my

window I could see leisurely and elegant gentlemen taking their morning stroll. A florist's cart full of roses

stood below me in the street. The summer smell of towna mixture of tar, flowers, dust, and

patchoulirose in gusts through the hot air. It was the homely London I knew so well, and I was somehow

an exile from it. I was being shepherded into a dismal isolation, which, unless I won help, might mean death.

I was cool enough now, but I will not deny that I was miserably anxious. I cursed my false confidence the

night before. By now I might have had Macgillivray and his men by my side. As it was, I wondered if I

I changed into a flannel suit, lunched off sandwiches and a whiskyandsoda, and at two o'clock looked for

Stagg and my car. He was five minutes late, a thing which had never happened before. But I never welcomed

anything so gladly as the sight of that car. I had hardly dared to hope that it would reach me.

My goal was the Embassy in Belgrave Square, but I was convinced that if I approached it directly I should

share the fate of Chapman. Worse, for from me they would not merely snatch the letter. What I had once

written I could write again, and if they wished to ensure my silence it must be by more drastic methods. I

proposed to baffle my pursuers by taking a wide circuit round the western suburbs of London, returning to the

It was a tremendous relief to go down the stairs and emerge into the hot daylight. I gave Stagg his

instructions, and lay back in the closed car with a curious fluttering sense of anticipation. I had begun the last

round in the wild game. There was a man at the corner of Down Street who seemed to peer curiously at the

We went up Park Lane into the Edgware Road, my instructions to Stagg being to make a circuit by Harrow

and Brentford. Now that I was ensconced in my car I felt a trifle safer, and my tense nerves relaxed. I grew

drowsy and allowed myself to sink into a half doze. The stolid back of Stagg filled my gaze, as it had filled it

a fortnight ago on the western road, and I admired lazily the brickred of his neck. He had been in the

Guards, and a Boer bullet at Modder River had left a long scar at the nape of his neck, which gave to his hair

Suddenly I rubbed my eyes. There was no scar there; the hair of the chauffeur grew regularly down to his

coatcollar. The resemblance had been perfect, the voice was Stagg's, but clearly it was not Stagg who now

I pulled the blind down over the front window as if to shelter myself from the sun. Looking out, I saw that we

were some distance up the Edgware Road, nearing the point where the Marylebone Road joins it. Now or

The car slowed down in obedience to a policeman's uplifted hand, and very gently I opened the door on the

left side. Since the car was new it opened softly, and in two seconds I had stepped out, shut it again, and

made a dive between a butcher's cart and a motorbus for the sidewalk. I gave one glance back and saw the

I dodged unobtrusively through the crowd on the pavement, with my hand on my breastpocket to see that

my paper was still there. There was a little pictureshop near by to which I used to go occasionally, owned by

a man who was an adept at cleaning and restoring. I had sent him customers and he was likely to prove a

friend. So I dived into his doorway, which made a cool pit of shade after the glaring street, and found him,

He looked at me in some surprise. "Why, yes; there is the door into the lane which runs from Edgeley Street

"Will you let me use it? There is a friend outside whom I wish to avoid. Such things happen, you know."

He smiled comprehendingly. "Certainly, sir. Come this way." And he led me through a dark passage hung

with dingy Old Masters to a little yard filled with the debris of picture frames. There he unlocked a door in

the wall and I found myself in a narrow alley. As I emerged I heard the bell of the shopdoor ring. "If anyone

inquires, you have not seen me here, remember," I said, and Mr Levison nodded. He was an artist in his small

I ran down the lane and by various cross streets made my way into Bayswater. I believed that I had thrown

my trackers for the moment off the scent, but I had got to get to the Embassy, and that neighbourhood was

sure to be closely watched. I came out on the Bayswater Road pretty far west, and resolved to strike

southeast across the Park. My reason was that the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Corner was certain at that

time of day to be pretty well crowded, and I felt more security in a throng than in the empty streets of

Kensington. Now that I come to think of it, it was a rash thing to do, for since Lumley knew the full extent of

my knowledge, he was likely to deal more violently with me than with Chapman, and the seclusion of the

I crossed the ridingtrack, and struck over the open space where the Sunday demonstrations are held. There

was nothing there but nurses and perambulators, children at play, and dogs being exercised. Presently I

reached Grosvenor Gate, where on the little green chairs welldressed people were taking the air. I

recognised several acquaintances, and stopped for a moment to talk to one of them. Then I emerged in Park

So far I thought I had not been followed, but now once more I had the indefinable but unerring sensation of

being watched. I caught a man looking eagerly at me from the other side of the street, and it seemed to me

that he made a sign to someone farther off. There was now less than a quarter of a mile between me and

Once in Piccadilly, there could be no doubt about my watchers. Lumley was doing the thing in style this time.

Last night it had only been a trial trip, but now the whole energies of the PowerHouse were on the job. The

place was filled with the usual midseason crowd, and I had to take off my hat several times. Up in the

bowwindow of the Bachelors' Club a young friend of mine was writing a letter and sipping a long drink

with an air of profound boredom. I would have given much for his ennui, for my life at the moment was

painfully exciting. I was alone in that crowd, isolated and proscribed, and there was no help save in my own

wits. If I spoke to a policeman he would think me drunk or mad, and yet I was on the edge of being made the

victim of a far subtler crime than fell within the purview of the Metropolitan force.

Now I saw how thin is the protection of civilisation. An accident and a bogus ambulancea false charge and

a bogus arrestthere were a dozen ways of spiriting me out of this gay, bustling world. I foresaw that, if I

I jolly nearly shared the fate of Chapman. A car which seemed about to draw up at a club door suddenly

swerved across the street, and I had to dash to an island to escape it. It was no occasion to hesitate, so,

dodging a bus and missing a motorbicycle by a hair'sbreadth, I rushed across the remaining distance and

Here there were fewer people, and several queer things began to happen. A little group of workmen with their

tools were standing by the kerb, and they suddenly moved towards me. A pavement artist, who looked like a

cripple, scrambled to his feet and moved in the same direction. There was a policeman at the corner, and I

saw a welldressed man go up to him, say something and nod in my direction, and the policeman too began

I did not await them. I took to my heels and ran for my life down Grosvenor Place.

Long ago at Eton I had won the school mile, and at Oxford I was a second string for the quarter. But never at

Eton or at Oxford did I run as I ran then. It was blisteringly hot, but I did not feel it, for my hands were

clammy and my heart felt like a cold stone. I do not know how the pursuit got on, for I did not think of it. I

did not reflect what kind of spectacle I must afford running like a thief in a London thoroughfare on a June

afternoon. I only knew that my enemies were around and behind me, and that in front, a few hundred yards

But even as I ran I had the sense to think out my movements, and to realise that the front door of the Embassy

was impossible. For one thing, it would be watched, and for another, before the solemn footmen opened it,

I twisted into the Mews behind the north side of the Square, and as I turned I saw two men run up from the

Square as if to cut me off. A whistle was blown, and more men appearedone entering from the far end of

the Mews, one darting from a publichouse door, and one sliding down a ladder from a stableloft. This last

was nearest me, and tried to trip me, but I rejoice to say that a lefthander on the chin sent him sprawling on

the cobbles. I remembered that the Embassy was the fifth house from the end, and feverishly I tried to count

the houses by their backs. It is not so easy as it sounds, for the modern London householder studs his back

premises with excrescences which seem to melt into his neighbour's. In the end I had to make a guess at the

I found myself in a stone passage, with on one side a door opening on a garage. There was a wooden staircase

leading to an upper floor, and a glass door in front, which opened into a large disused room full of boxes.

Beyond were two doors, one of which was locked. The other abutted on a steep iron stairway, which

I ran down the stairit was no more than a laddercrossed a small courtyard, traversed a passage, and burst

into the kitchen, where I confronted an astonished whitecapped chef in the act of lifting a pot from the fire.

His face was red and wrathful, and I thought that he was going to fling the pot at my head. I had disturbed

"Monsieur," I stammered in French, "I seek your pardon for my intrusion. There were circumstances which

compelled me to enter this house by the back premises. I am an acquaintance of his Excellency, your patron,

and an old friend of Monsieur Felix. I beg you of your kindness to direct me to Monsieur Felix's room, or to

"It is a grave offence, monsieur," he said, "an unparalleled offence, to enter my kitchen at this hour. I fear you

have irremediably spoiled the new casserole dish that I was endeavouring to compose."

"It grieves me indeed to have interfered with so rare an art, which I have often admired at his Excellency's

table. But there is danger behind me, and an urgent mission in front. Monsieur will forgive me? Necessity

Suddenly a door opened, another than that by which I had entered, and a man appeared whom I took to be a

footman. He was struggling into his livery coat, but at the sight of me he dropped it. I thought I recognised

the face as that of the man who had emerged from the publichouse and tried to cut me off.

"'Ere, Mister Alphonse," he cried, "'elp me to collar this man. The police are after 'im."

"You forget, my friend," I said, "that an Embassy is privileged ground which the police can't enter. I desire to

"So that's yer game," he shouted. "But two can play at that. 'Ere, give me an 'and, moosoo, and we'll 'ave him

in the street in a jiffey. There's two 'undred of the best in our pockets if we 'ands 'im over to them as wants

"Will you allow them to outrage your kitchenan Embassy kitchen, toowithout your consent?" I said.

"Only what your patron will approve," I replied in the same tongue. "Messieurs les assassins have a grudge

He still hesitated, while the young footman advanced on me. He was fingering something in his

Now was the time when, as they say in America, I should have got busy with my gun; but alas! I had no gun.

I feared supports for the enemy, for the footman at the first sight of me had run back the way he had come,

What might have happened I do not know, had not the god appeared from the machine in the person of

"Hewins," I said, "you know me. I have often dined here, and you know that I am a friend of Monsieur Felix.

I am on my way to see him on an urgent matter, and for various reasons I had to enter by Monsieur

Hewins bowed, and on his imperturbable face there appeared no sign of surprise. "This way, sir," was all he

As I followed him I saw the footman plucking nervously at the something in his trouserspocket. Lumley's

agents apparently had not always the courage to follow his instructions to the letter, for I made no doubt that

I found Felix alone, and flung myself into an armchair. "My dear chap," I said, "take my advice and advise

From that moment I date that sense of mastery over a situation which drives out fear. I had been living for

weeks under a dark pall, and suddenly the skies had lightened. I had found sanctuary. Whatever happened to

Felix was looking at me curiously, for, jaded, scarlet, dishevelled, I was an odd figure for a London

"They have, but I think the march is over. I want to ask several favours. First, here is a document which sets

out certain facts. I shall ring up Macgillivray at Scotland Yard and ask him to come here at 9.30 this evening.

When he comes I want you to give him this and ask him to read it at once. He will know how to act on it."

"Give me a telegraph form. I want a wire sent at once by someone who can be trusted." He handed me a form

and I wrote out a telegram to Lumley at the Albany, saying that I proposed to call upon him that evening at

"Next and last, I want a room with a door which will lock, a hot bath, and something to eat about seven. I

I rang up Macgillivray, reminded him of his promise, and told him what awaited him at 9.30. Then I had a

wash, and afterwards at my leisure gave Felix a sketch of the day's doings. I have never felt more completely

at my ease, for whatever happened I was certain that I had spoiled Lumley's game. He would know by now

that I had reached the Embassy, and that any further attempts on my life and liberty were futile. My telegram

would show him that I was prepared to offer terms, and I would certainly be permitted to reach the Albany

unmolested. To the meeting with my adversary I looked forward without qualms, but with the most lively

interest. I had my own theories about that distinguished criminal, and I hoped to bring them to the proof.

Just before seven I had a reply to my wire. Mr Lumley said he would be delighted to see me. The telegram

was directed to me at the Embassy, though I had put no address on the one I sent. Lumley, of course, knew all

my movements. I could picture him sitting in his chair, like some Chief of Staff, receiving every few minutes

I LEFT Belgrave Square about a quarter to eight and retraced my steps along the route which for me that

afternoon had been so full of tremors. I was still being watcheda little observation told me thatbut I

would not be interfered with, provided my way lay in a certain direction. So completely without nervousness

was I that at the top of Constitution Hill I struck into the Green Park and kept to the grass till I emerged into

Piccadilly opposite Devonshire House. A light wind had risen, and the evening had grown pleasantly cool. I

met several men I knew going out to dinner on foot, and stopped to exchange greetings. From my clothes

I reached the Albany as the clock was striking eight. Lumley's rooms were on the first floor, and I was

evidently expected, for the porter himself conducted me to them and waited by me till the door was opened

You know those rococo, late Georgian, Albany rooms, large, square, clumsily corniced. Lumley's was lined

with books, which I saw at a glance were of a different type from those in his working library at his country

house. This was the collection of a bibliophile, and in the light of the summer evening the rows of tall

The valet retired and shut the door, and presently from a little inner chamber came his master. He was dressed

for dinner, and wore more than ever the air of the eminent diplomat. Again I had the old feeling of

incredulity. It was the Lumley I had met two nights before at dinner, the friend of Viceroys and Cabinet

Ministers. It was hard to connect him with Antioch Street or the redhaired footman with a pistol. Or with

Tuke? Yes, I decided, Tuke fitted into the frame. Both were brains cut loose from the decencies that make life

"Good evening, Mr Leithen," he said pleasantly. "As you have fixed the hour of eight, may I offer you

"Thank you," I replied, "but I have already dined. I have chosen an awkward time, but my business need not

"And I prefer to see the master rather than the subordinates who have been infesting my life during the past

We both laughed. "I am afraid you have had some annoyance, Mr Leithen," he said. "But remember, I gave

"True. And I have come to do the same kindness to you. That part of the game, at any rate, is over."

"Yes, over," I said, and took out my watch. "Let us be quite frank with each other, Mr Lumley. There is really

very little time to waste. As you have doubtless read the paper which you stole from my friend this morning,

"Let us have frankness by all means. Yes, I have read your paper. A very creditable piece of work, if I may

say so. You will rise in your profession, Mr Leithen. But surely you must realise that it carries you a very

"In a sense you are right. I am not in a position to reveal the full extent of your misdeeds. Of the

PowerHouse and its doings I can only guess. But PittHeron is on his way home, and he will be carefully

safeguarded on that journey. Your creature, Saronov, has confessed. We shall know more very soon, and

He did not answer, but I wished I could see behind his tinted spectacles to the look in his eyes. I think he had

"I need not tell you, as a lawyer, Mr Leithen," he said at last, "that what seems good evidence on paper is

often feeble enough in Court. You cannot suppose that I will tamely plead guilty to your charges. On the

contrary, I will fight them with all the force that brains and money can give. You are an ingenious young

"That also is true. I do not deny that some of my evidence may be weakened at the trial. It is even

conceivable that you may be acquitted on some technical doubt. But you have forgotten one thing. From the

day you leave the Court you will be a suspected man. The police of all Europe will be on your trail. You have

been highly successful in the past, and why? Because you have been above suspicion, an honourable and

distinguished gentleman, belonging to the best clubs, counting as your acquaintances the flower of our

society. Now you will be a suspect, a man with a past, a centre of strange stories. I put it to youhow far

"You have a talent for characterdrawing, my friend. What makes you think that I can work only if I live in

"The talent you mention," I said. "As I read your characterand I think I am rightyou are an artist in

crime. You are not the common cutthroat who acts out of passion or greed. No, I think you are something

subtler than that. You love power, hidden power. You flatter your vanity by despising mankind and making

them your tools. You scorn the smattering of inaccuracies which passes for human knowledge, and I will not

venture to say you are wrong. Therefore, you use your brains to frustrate it. Unhappily the life of millions is

built on that smattering, so you are a foe to society. But there would be no flavour in controlling subterranean

things if you were yourself a mole working in the dark. To get the full flavour, the irony of it all, you must

live in the light. I can imagine you laughing in your soul as you move about our world, praising it with your

lips, patting it with your hands, and kicking its props away with your feet. I can see the charm of it. But it is

He made a sudden, odd, nervous movement, pushing his glasses close back upon his eyes.

"What about yourself?" he said hoarsely. "Do you think you can play against me without suffering desperate

He was holding a cord in his hand with a knob on the end of it. He now touched a button in the knob, and

The door was behind me, and he was looking beyond me towards it. I was entirely at his mercy, but I never

budged an inch. I do not know how I managed to keep calm, but I did it, and without much effort. I went on

"It is really quite useless trying to frighten me. I am safe because I am dealing with an intelligent man, and

not with the ordinary halfwitted criminal. You do not want my life in silly revenge. If you call in your man

He was looking beyond me, and the passiona sudden whitehot passion like an epilepsywas dying out

"Yes. A mistake. I have a considerable admiration for you, Mr Lumley, and should be sorry to be

He laughed quite like an ordinary mortal. "I am glad this affair is to be conducted on a basis of mutual

respect. Now that the melodramatic overture is finished let us get to the business."

"By all means," I said. "I promised to deal with you frankly. Well, let me put my last cards on the table. At

halfpast nine precisely the duplicate of that statement of mine which you annexed this morning will be

handed to Scotland Yard. I may add that the authorities there know me, and are proceeding under my advice.

When they read that statement they will act on it. You have therefore about one hour and a half, or say one

and threequarters, to make up your mind. You can still secure your freedom, but it must be elsewhere than

"Will you oblige me by telling me one thing," he said. "If you believe me to be, as you say, a dangerous

criminal, how do you reconcile it with your conscience to give me a chance of escape? It is your duty to bring

"I will tell you why," I said. "I, too, have a weak joint in my armour. Yours is that you can only succeed

under the disguise of high respectability. That disguise, in any case, will be stripped from you. Mine is

PittHeron. I do not know how far he has entangled himself with you, but I know something of his weakness,

and I don't want his career ruined and his wife's heart broken. He has learned his lesson, and will never

mention you and your schemes to a mortal soul. Indeed, if I can help it, he will never know that anyone

shares his secret. The price of the chance of escape I offer you is that PittHeron's past be buried for ever."

He did not answer. He had his arms folded, walking up and down the room, and suddenly seemed to have

"Mr Leithen," he said at last, "you are bold. You have a frankness which almost amounts to genius. You are

wasted in your stupid profession, but your speculative powers are not equal to your other endowments, so you

will probably remain in it, deterred by an illogical scruple from following your true bent. Your true m�tier,

believe me, is what shallow people call crime. Speaking 'without prejudice,' as the idiot solicitors say, it

would appear that we have both weak spots in our cases. Mine, you say, is that I can only work by using the

conventions of what we agreed to call the Machine. There may be truth in that. Yours is that you have a

friend who lacks your irondad discretion. You offer a plan which saves both our weaknesses. By the way,

I looked at my watch again. " You have ample time to catch the night express to Paris."

"Then I am afraid there may be trouble with the police between ten and eleven o'clock."

"Which, for all our sakes, would be a pity. Do you know you interest me uncommonly, for you confirm the

accuracy of my judgment. I have always had a notion that some day I should run across, to my sorrow, just

such a man as you. A man of very great intellectual power I can deal with, for that kind of brain is usually

combined with the sort of highstrung imagination on which I can work. The same with your

overimaginative man. Yes, PittHeron was of that type. Ordinary brains do not trouble me, for I puzzle

them. Now, you are a man of good commonplace intelligence. Pray forgive the lukewarmness of the phrase;

it is really a high compliment, for I am an austere critic. If you were that and no more you would not have

succeeded. But you possess also a quite irrelevant gift of imagination. Not enough to upset your balance, but

enough to do what your mere lawyer's talent could never have done. You have achieved a feat which is given

to fewyou have partially understood me. Believe me, I rate you high. You are the kind of foursquare being

bedded in the concrete of our civilisation, on whom I have always felt I might some day come to grief.... No,

no, I am not trying to wheedle you. If I thought I could do that I should be sorry, for my discernment would

"I believe you are really anxious about my interests," he said. "That is a triumph indeed. Do you know, Mr

Leithen, it is a mere whimsy of fate that you are not my disciple. If we had met earlier, and under other

circumstances, I should have captured you. It is because you have in you a capacity for discipleship that you

"It is the wrong word. I am not courageous. To be brave means that you have conquered fear, but I have

never had any fear to conquer. Believe me, Mr Leithen, I am quite impervious to threats. You come to me

tonight and hold a pistol to my head. You offer me two alternatives, both of which mean failure. But how do

you know that I regard them as failure? I have had what they call a good run for my money. No man since

Napoleon has tasted such power. I may be willing to end it. Age creeps on and power may grow burdensome.

I have always sat loose from common ambitions and common affections. For all you know I may regard you

All this talk looks futile when it is written down, but it was skilful enough, for it was taking every atom of

exhilaration out of my victory. It was not idle brag. Every syllable rang true, as I knew in my bones. I felt

myself in the presence of something enormously big, as if a small barbarian was desecrating the colossal

Zeus of Pheidias with a coal hammer. But I also felt it inhuman, and I hated it, and I clung to that hatred.

"You fear nothing and you believe nothing," I said. "Man, you should never have been allowed to live."

He raised a deprecating hand. "I am a sceptic about most things," he said, "but, believe me, I have my own

worship. I venerate the intellect of man. I believe in its undreamedof possibilities, when it grows free like an

oak in the forest and is not dwarfed in a flowerpot. From that allegiance I have never wavered. That is the

"True," he said, smiling. "The continental express will not wait upon my confession. Your plan is certainly

conceivable. There may be other and easier ways. I am not certain. I must think.... Perhaps it would be wiser

if you left me now, Mr Leithen. If I take your advice there will be various things to do.... In any case there

He led me to the door as if he were an ordinary host speeding an ordinary guest. I remember that on my way

he pointed out a set of Aldines and called my attention to their beauty. He shook hands quite cordially and

remarked on the fineness of the weather. That was the last I saw of this amazing man.

It was with profound relief that I found myself in Piccadilly in the wholesome company of my kind. I had

carried myself boldly enough in the last hour, but I would not have gone through it again for a king's ransom.

Do you know what it is to deal with a pure intelligence, a brain stripped of every shred of humanity? It is like

I drove to the club and telephoned to Macgillivray, asking him to take no notice of my statement till he heard

That Leader of the People was in a furious temper, and he was scarcely to be appeased by my narrative of the

day's doings. Your Labour Member is the greatest of all sticklers for legality, and the outrage he had suffered

that morning had grievously weakened his trust in public security. The Antioch Street business had seemed to

him eminently right; if you once got mixed up in melodrama you had to expect such things. But for a

Member of Parliament to be robbed in broad daylight next door to the House of Commons upset the

foundations of his faith. There was little the matter with his body, and the doctor promised that he would be

It took me a lot of persuasion to get him to keep quiet. He wanted a public exposure of Lumley, a big trial, a

general ferreting out of secret agents, the whole winding up with a speech in Parliament by himself on this

latest outrage of Capitalism. Gloomily he listened to my injunction to silence. But he saw the reason of it, and

promised to hold his tongue out of loyalty to Tommy. I knew that PittHeron's secret was safe with him.

As I crossed Westminster Bridge on my way home, the night express to the Continent rumbled over the river.

I wondered if Lumley was on board, or if he had taken one of the other ways of which he had spoken....

Mr Andrew Lumley had died suddenly in the night of heart failure, and the newspapers woke up to the fact

that we had been entertaining a great man unawares. There was an obituary in "leader" type of nearly two

columns. He had been older than I thoughtclose on seventyand 'The Times' spoke of him as a man who

might have done anything he pleased in public life, but had chosen to give to a small coterie of friends what

was due to the country. I read of his wit and learning, his amazing connoisseurship, his social gifts, his

personal charm. According to the writer, he was the finest type of cultivated amateur, a Beckford with more

than a Beckford's wealth and none of his folly. Large private charities were hinted at, and a hope was

The halfpenny papers said the same thing in their own way. One declared he reminded it of Atticus, another

of M�cenas, another of Lord Houghton. There must have been a great run on biographical dictionaries in the

various offices. Chapman's own particular rag said that, although this kind of philanthropist was a dilettante

and a back number, yet Mr Lumley was a good specimen of the class and had been a true friend to the poor. I

thought Chapman would have a fit when he read this. After that he took in the 'Morning Post.'

It was no business of mine to explode the myth. Indeed I couldn't even if I had wanted to, for no one would

have believed me unless I produced proofs, and these proofs were not to be made public. Besides, I had an

honest compunction. He had had, as he expressed it, a good run for his money, and I wanted the run to be

Three days later I went to the funeral. It was a wonderful occasion. Two eminent statesmen were among the

pallbearers, Royalty was represented, and there were wreaths from learned societies and scores of notable

people. It was a queer business to listen to that stately service, which was never read over stranger dust. I was

thinking all the time of the vast subterranean machine which he had controlled, and which now was so much

old iron. I could dimly imagine what his death meant to the hosts who had worked blindly at his discretion.

He was a Napoleon who left no Marshals behind him. From the PowerHouse came no wreaths or newspaper

Of the three people in London besides myself who knew the storyMacgillivray, Chapman, and Felixthe

two last might be trusted to be silent, and Scotland Yard is not in the habit of publishing its information.

Tommy, of course, must some time or other be told; it was his right; but I knew that Tommy would never

breathe a word of it. I wanted Charles to believe that his secret died with Lumley, for otherwise I don't think

The thing took some arranging, for we could not tell him directly about Lumley's death without giving away

the fact that we knew of the connection between the two. We had to approach it by a roundabout road. I got

Felix to arrange to have the news telegraphed to and inserted by special order in a Russian paper which

The device was successful. Calling at Portman Square a few days later, I learned from Ethel PittHeron's

glowing face that her troubles were over. That same evening a cable to me from Tommy announced the

It was the year of the Chilian Arbitration, in which I held a junior brief for the British Government, and that

and the late sitting of Parliament kept me in London after the end of the term. I had had a bad reaction from

the excitements of the summer, and in these days I was feeling pretty well hipped and overdone. On a hot

The sun was shining through my Temple chambers, much as it had done when he started. So far as I

remember, the West Ham brief which had aroused his contempt was still adorning my table. I was very hot

and cross and fagged, for I had been engaged in the beastly job of comparing half a dozen maps of a

"Still at the old grind," he cried, after we had shaken hands. "Fellows like you give me a notion of the

"The same uneventful, sedentary life," I replied. "Nothing happens except that my scale of fees grows. I

suppose nothing will happen till the conductor comes to take the tickets. I shall soon grow fat."

"I notice it already, my lad. You want a bit of waking up or you'll get a liver. A little sensation would do you

"And you?" I asked. "I congratulate you on your success. I hear you have retrieved PittHeron for his

"I have had the time of my life," he said. "It was like a chapter out of the Arabian Nights with a dash of

Fenimore Cooper. I feel as if I had lived years since I left England in May. While you have been sitting

among your musty papers we have been riding like mosstroopers and seeing men die. Come and dine

tonight and hear about our adventures. I can't tell you the full story, for I don't know it, but there is enough

"No," I said, "you will dine with me instead, and I will tell you the full story. All the papers on the subject are