"At present," he declared, "there's not a shred of a clue to work upon.

Of course at any moment information may come to hand. He may endeavour to dispose of some of his plunder, or he may reappear, but until then----"

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

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

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

Meanwhile, if you like to make this house your headquarters, I shall be delighted to put you up."

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

"Of course I do," I replied.

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

CHAPTER VIII

MURDER

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

For two reasons I was not sorry for this interval. In the first place, I found I could not get immediately the type of car I wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Business first and pleasure afterwards."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without another word we seated ourselves in the car, and with a continuous toot-toot of the horn we rolled out of the town. Directly we were clear of the houses, I jammed on the highest speed. I cannot say that I felt quite comfortable, for though I knew the road, the night was very dark, the light we threw ahead was so bright as to dazzle my eyes, and hitherto I had no experience of driving a 60-h.p. motor at top speed through the darkness. My companion's _sang-froid_ soon rea.s.sured me, however, and as soon as we were fairly going, the sting of the night air as it whipped my cheeks brought a sense of exhilaration which would have sufficed to banish my fears had there been time to have entertained any.

But there was not. If you have ever driven a speedy automobile at top speed through a dark night, you will readily understand that there is little opportunity for the brain to cultivate imaginary perils. If you do not believe me, try it for yourself and see.

In about sixteen minutes we were at Dunstable. Pa.s.sing through the town slowly, Forrest got news that the police were watching all the roads, but that nothing had been seen there of the Pirate. Another quarter of an hour brought us to Fenny Stratford. Here we wasted another minute or so in obtaining similar negative information. By this time I was feeling confidence in my car and in my powers to manage it. Once clear of the houses again, I let her rip for all she was worth; we simply flew along.

With my right hand on the wheel, my feet on the two pedals, I sat as tense as a fiddle string, my one object to peer into the road ahead.

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

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

"The Pirate!" I shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

"My G.o.d!" he muttered

"What is it?" I asked.

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