ch,
in a certain part of the world, were counted immutable, had he known the
manner of man whom he had summoned to him that night.

Just outside the Cavalry Club a limousine was waiting, driven by a
chauffeur who looked like some kind of Oriental. Nicol Brinn walked up
to the man, and bending forward:

"Fire-Tongue," he said, in a low voice.

The chauffeur immediately descended and opened the door of the car.
The interior was unlighted, but Nicol Brinn cast a comprehensive glance
around ere entering. As he settled himself upon the cushions, the door
was closed again, and he found himself in absolute darkness.

"Ah," he muttered. "Might have foreseen it." All the windows were
curtained, or rather, as a rough investigation revealed, were closed
with aluminium shutters which were immovable.

A moment later, as the car moved off, a lamp became lighted above him.
Then he saw that several current periodicals were placed invitingly in
the rack, as well as a box of very choice Egyptian cigarettes.

"H'm," he murmured.

He made a close investigation upon every side, but he knew enough of the
organization with which he was dealing to be prepared for failure.

He failed. There was no cranny through which he could look out.
Palpably, it would be impossible to learn where he was being taken. The
journey might be a direct one, or might be a detour. He wished that he
could have foreseen this device. Above all, he wished that Detective
Sergeant Stokes had been a more clever man.

It would have been good to know that he was followed. His only hope was
that someone detailed by Paul Harley might be in pursuit.

Lighting a fresh cigar, Nicol Brinn drew a copy of the Sketch from the
rack, and studied the photographs of more or less pretty actresses with
apparent contentment. He had finished the Sketch, and was perusing the
Bystander, when, the car having climbed a steep hill and swerved sharply
to the right, he heard the rustling of leaves, and divined that they
were proceeding along a drive.

He replaced the paper in the rack, and took out his watch. Consulting
it, he returned it to his pocket as the car stopped and the light went
out.

The door, which, with its fellow, Nicol Brinn had discovered to be
locked, was opened by the Oriental chauffeur, and Brinn descended upon
the steps of a shadowed porch. The house door was open, and although
there was no light within:

"Come this way," said a voice, speaking out of the darkne