11 Fortescue Square, the next time I'll trouble you will be when you are asked to identify Wong Li Fu, dead or alive."

Forbes seemed hardly to be aware of Furneaux's words. He went out.

Theydon accompanied him, and, as they descended the stairs together, the older man said brokenly:

"It is my wife and daughter for whom I fear. I can hardly control my senses when I think of these yellow fiends contemplating vengeance on me through them. Theydon--do you believe in that detective? He is either a vain fool or a genius. By the way, I forgot to ask him how he found out that I had received the warning delivered by this morning's post."

"I'll try and worm an explanation out of him. If he tells me I'll telephone you later. He is an extraordinary creature, but abnormally clever at his work, I am sure. For my own part, I feel disposed to trust him implicitly. I wish you had met his colleague, Chief Inspector Winter. He is the sort of man whose mere presence inspires confidence."

Forbes halted on the step of the automobile and glanced at his watch.

"I shall be home in an hour," he said. "After that I shall not stir out all day. Telephone me if you have any news. Why not dine with us tonight?"

Theydon's eyes sparkled. He was longing to meet Evelyn Forbes once more, but a wretched doubt diminished the glow of gratification which the prospect brought. Should he, or should he not, tell the girl's father of the rather indiscreet admissions she had made during their brief talk that morning?

That minor worry, however, was banished suddenly and forever. Furneaux, taking the three steps which led from entrance hall to pavement with a flying leap, cannoned right into Forbes, whom he grasped with both hands, quite as much by way of emphasis as to check the impetus of his diminutive body.

"In with you!" he piped. "Tell your chauffeur to obey my orders, no matter what they are!"

Action, determination, were as the breath of the millionaire's nostrils.

He aroused himself instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

"Yes. He has just left me."

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

"What is it? Can I do anything?"

"It's Miss Evelyn, sir."

"Yes, what of her?"

"She's gone, sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir."

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

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

Theydon rang off.

"Come!" he said to Bates, who had not retired to his den, but was listening, discreet yet rabbit-eared, to these queer proceedings.

Followed by the man-servant, he darted into the sitting room and did several things at once.

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

Meanwhile he was talking.

"Bates," he said, "I promised Miss Beale, the lady who came here this morning, that my sister, Mrs. Paxton, would visit her this evening, say about six. Miss Beale is staying at Smith's Hotel, Jermyn Street. Go to Mrs. Paxton, and see her, waiting at her house if she happens to be out.

Tell everything you know about Mrs. Lester's death, and ask her to take care of Miss Beale this evening. She will understand. I'll wire her at Smith's Hotel before the dinner hour, if possible. If anybody calls here, I leave it to your discretion and your wife's whether or not they should be informed of my movements. Mr. Forbes or the police, of course, must be told everything. Miss Forbes is probably in the 1:25 p. m. train for Eastbourne, and I am going with her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

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

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

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

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