he night before; perhaps not; it didn't matter.
I wondered if he was the fellow who had first tracked Scudder, and left
his card on him. Scudder had said he lisped, and I could imagine how
the adoption of a lisp might add terror.

But the old man was the pick of the lot. He was sheer brain, icy,
cool, calculating, as ruthless as a steam hammer. Now that my eyes
were opened I wondered where I had seen the benevolence. His jaw was
like chilled steel, and his eyes had the inhuman luminosity of a
bird's. I went on playing, and every second a greater hate welled up
in my heart. It almost choked me, and I couldn't answer when my
partner spoke. Only a little longer could I endure their company.

'Whew! Bob! Look at the time,' said the old man. 'You'd better think
about catching your train. Bob's got to go to town tonight,' he added,
turning to me. The voice rang now as false as hell. I looked at the
clock, and it was nearly half-past ten.

'I am afraid he must put off his journey,' I said.

'Oh, damn,' said the young man. 'I thought you had dropped that rot.
I've simply got to go. You can have my address, and I'll give any
security you like.'

'No,' I said, 'you must stay.'

At that I think they must have realized that the game was desperate.
Their only chance had been to convince me that I was playing the fool,
and that had failed. But the old man spoke again.

'I'll go bail for my nephew. That ought to content you, Mr Hannay.'
Was it fancy, or did I detect some halt in the smoothness of that voice?

There must have been, for as I glanced at him, his eyelids fell in that
hawk-like hood which fear had stamped on my memory.

I blew my whistle.

In an instant the lights were out. A pair of strong arms gripped me
round the waist, covering the pockets in which a man might be expected
to carry a pistol.

'SCHNELL, FRANZ,' cried a voice, 'DAS BOOT, DAS BOOT!' As it spoke I
saw two of my fellows emerge on the moonlit lawn.

The young dark man leapt for the window, was through it, and over the
low fence before a hand could touch him. I grappled the old chap, and
the room seemed to fill with figures. I saw the plump one collared,
but my eyes were all for the out-of-doors, where Franz sped on over the
road towards the railed entrance to the beach stairs. One man followed
him, but he had no chance. The gate of the stairs locked behind the
fugitive, and I stood staring, with my hands on the old boy's t