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

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

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

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

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

"Say!" cried the American, "this reminds one of home. I've been here a week, an' had a kind of notion that London air was half fog, half dope.

But you're awake all right. Bet you a five spot you're after a girl!"

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

"Gee whiz! Is it like that? Go right ahead, Augustus! Never mind me.

Take this old bus all the way to Paris. I'll find the fares and hold your hat. But kindly shift that gun into your opposite pocket. You've dug it into my thigh quite often enough. If you want to get first drop on the other fellow, shove it up your sleeve!"

CHAPTER IX

SHARP WORK

The American's easy-going badinage provided the best sort of tonic.

Theydon laughed as he transferred the pistol from one pocket to the other.

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

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

"Is that your telephone number?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then to Winter:

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

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

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

"To a place called Sutton."

"What time does your train leave?"

"Guess it's about 1:30."

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

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

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

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

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

Theydon gazed at this self-avowed knight-errant in surprise. Handyside was a man of forty, whose dark hair was flecked with gray. He was quietly dressed, a wide-brimmed high-crowned hat of finely-plaited white straw providing the solo note of markedly American origin in his attire.

The expression of his well-moulded features was shrewd but pleasing, and the poise of a spare but sinewy frame gave evidence of active habit and some considerable degree of physical strength.

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

"Seems to me," said the American imperturbably, "it's the most natural thing in the world that Mr. Theydon should want to show his friend, Mr.

Handyside of Chicago, England's most bracing and attractive seaside resort, if that's the right way to describe Eastbourne."

"Both the plan and the description are admirable."

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

"Half a sovereign."

"Two-fifty. Gee! That's the nearest thing to New York I've struck yet.