[Ill.u.s.tration: "'I NEARLY BRUSHED AGAINST YOU.'"

(_p. 108._)]

Before Anstruther had reached the laboratory the Professor was hammering on the wall, and shouting at the top of his voice. The Major hurried through the window, climbed the garden wall, and had found his bicycle before the prisoner was released. By the time that the police were informed, he was well on his way to town.

And that is how Major Everett Anstruther was able to renew his subscription to the Burglars' Club.

VI.

THE BUNYAN MS.

ANSTRUTHER sat down amidst vociferous applause.

"Gentlemen," said the Duke, "I think we may heartily congratulate Major Anstruther on the foresight and ingenuity displayed in renewing his subscription. I am sorry we cannot keep the radium as a memento, but, according to our rule, it has to be returned to Professor Blyth at once.

This particular burglary has been so satisfactory that I think we may with advantage again turn to the daily Press for our next item. I read yesterday---- Let me see--where is it? I cut out the paragraph. Ah! here it is:--

"'Yet another priceless possession is leaving the Eastern hemisphere.

Thirty pages of 'The Pilgrim's Progress,' all that is left of that immortal work in the handwriting of John Bunyan, has been waiting for offers at Messrs. Christie's rooms since November last. The highest bid from the United Kingdom was 45 10s., at which price the precious ma.n.u.script did not change hands. We now hear that 2,000 has been offered and accepted. The purchaser is Mr. John Pilgrim, the Logwood King, of New York. At the present rate of denudation it seems likely that fifty years hence the original of Magna Charta will be the only historical ma.n.u.script left in the country.'"

"Shame--shame!" greeted the reading of the paragraph.

"I am glad that you agree with the newspaper," said the Duke blandly. "I read that paragraph at breakfast yesterday, and since then I have learnt that Lord Roker's subscription is due. It seems to me more than a coincidence that these two matters should come together. It is a national disgrace that the ma.n.u.script of that remarkable, I believe unparalleled--er--effort of Mr. Bunyan should leave the country. For one night longer, at any rate, it must remain in the possession of Englishmen. My lord of Roker, you will kindly produce the Bunyan MS. at our next meeting, on the 23rd inst., in settlement of your subscription."

At 5 p.m. on Monday, April 18th last, a new arrival registered himself in the visitors' book at the Ilkley Hydropathic Establishment as James Roker, Jermyn Street, S.W. He was a good-looking, straight-built man of thirty or thereabouts. He was of an un.o.btrusive disposition, but was obviously well-informed, for in the smoke-room after dinner, when in a discussion on the internal resources of j.a.pan, the date of Queen Anne's death came up, the new arrival gave it authoritatively as 1745, and so settled the matter.

The next morning brought letters addressed to Lord Roker. Five minutes after the arrival of the post the news spread, and at breakfast he was the cynosure of all eyes.

It was the first time that a n.o.bleman had stayed at the Hydro, excepting the doubtful instance of Count Spiegeleisen in 1893, but to provide for possible emergencies the management had thoughtfully placed a Peerage on the bookshelves. This volume was now thoroughly investigated, and it was learnt that James, Lord Roker, was heir to the Earldom of Challoner, and that he was born on April 25th, 1870. His birthday obviously would occur the following week, and an enterprising lady suggested the propriety of arranging for a concert and a representation of Mrs. Jarley's waxworks in honour of the occasion.

The only person in the place who seemed annoyed by his arrival was Mr.

John Pilgrim, a gentleman from New York.

"That's why he was so darned civil to me last night," he thought. "He knows how fond Fifth Avenue girls are of the British peerage, and he thinks he's only got to drop his handkerchief for Marion to pick it up.

I call it a bit thick of him. I'm glad she's away for the day. I asked him to look round this evenin', so reckon I'll have to be civil; but I'll stand no nonsense. If he tries his sawder on me durin' the day I'll let him know."

There was no occasion--or, indeed, opportunity--to let Lord Roker know anything during the day, for he went to Rylstone the first thing after breakfast, and only re-appeared at dinner-time.

The toilettes of at least eighteen ladies were more elaborate than usual that evening, but they were lost on Lord Roker, who, after half an hour in the smoke-room, tapped on Mr. Pilgrim's door at 8.30.

"Good-evenin', my lord," said Mr. Pilgrim, with studied politeness.

"Will you sit there? Cigar, sir? I can recommend these. I hope you had a pleasant day. How do you like the Hydro?"

"Thank you," said Lord Roker, as he took the Bock, and settled himself in the chair indicated. "I have been away in the country all day, so I haven't seen much of the Hydro yet. It seems all right. At any rate, you have got pretty snug quarters."

"Yes," said Mr. Pilgrim, with some complacency. "You see, I'm samplin'

the British Isles, gettin' the best I can lay hands on, and am storin'

my purchases here. This room is furnished with Heppendale an'

Chipplewhite's masterpieces, collected by my daughter. Paintin's by Jones an' Rossetti. In the nex' cabin I've got those historical sundries I mentioned. But before we look at them I want you to give me some information."

"I shall be delighted to do so, if I have it."

"You have it, sir. I may as well explain what I want. I have come over to see Europe for the first time, but I wanter know more about it than Americans do as a gen'ral rule. I'm not content to visit Shakespeare's tomb an' see over Windsor Castle, and then think I've done the old country. I wanter know the people who inhabit her to-day, and you can't get to know them on board trains. That's why I've come to this Hydro. I get here what my secretary calls a symposium of the whole nation. So I'm studyin' people here with the idea of writin' a book on my return. What are your views on things in gen'ral, my lord?"

"My dear sir, that's a big order. But I may say I'm pretty well satisfied with things in general."

"You are an hereditary legislator, I believe," said Mr. Pilgrim.

"I may be some day," replied Lord Roker; "but at present I am not."

"Then what is your pertic'ler line in life?"

"If you mean business or profession, I have none. I'm a drone."

"A drone, sir! I'm delighted," exclaimed Mr. Pilgrim, with marked interest. Then, "h.e.l.lo, Marion. Back again."

Roker turned, and there, framed in the doorway, was a living Romney picture--a radiant girl.

She came forward, the light playing on her red-brown hair.

"Lord Roker--my daughter," said Mr. Pilgrim.

The girl smiled and shook hands.

"I hope I'm not interrupting a very serious deliberation," she said, half hesitating.

"Indeed not," Lord Roker hastened to a.s.sure her, fearful lest this delectable vision should vanish.

She took the chair he offered.

"Well, what have you gotten at York?" inquired Mr. Pilgrim.

"You'd neither of you guess. Three grandfather's clocks."

"Three!" exclaimed Mr. Pilgrim. "Sheraton?" he added.

"No; just grandfather's clocks, and the dearest ones you ever saw."

"I could bet on that," said her father. "Are they genuine?"

"They are all dated, and Mr. Tullitt got pedigrees with each of them.

One of them tells the moon, and one the day of the month. We shall have to hire an astrologer to regulate them and start them fair. Mr. Tullitt says he works best on board your railroad car, as noise suits him, so I shall fix the three clocks up in his den here to keep him happy. I reckon he'll know when it's lunch time, anyway. But what have you been doing, dad?"

"Makin' a few notes. At present I'm gettin' some valu'ble information.

Lord Roker says he's a drone."