at the man was wearing rubber-soled boots and rubber
gloves, and these last he also kept. Stooping, he lifted the unconscious
man on to his shoulder and carried him with perfect ease and at a quick
pace out of the garden and across the road to the common opposite,
where, in a convenient spot, behind some furze bushes, he laid him down.

"When he comes round," Dunn muttered. "He won't know where he is or
what's happened, and probably his one idea will be to clear off as
quickly as possible. I don't suppose he'll interfere with me at all."

Then a new idea seemed to strike him, and he hurriedly removed his own
coat and trousers and boots and exchanged them for those the burglar was
wearing.

They were not a good fit, but he could get them on and the idea in his
mind was that if the police of the district began searching, as very
likely they would, for Mr. John Clive's assailant, and if they had
discovered any clues in the shape of footprints or torn bits of clothing
or buttons--and Dunn knew his attire had suffered considerably during
the struggle--then it would be as well that such clues should lead not
to him, but to this other man, who, if he were innocent on that score,
had at any rate been guilty of attempting to carry out a much worse
offence.

"I'm afraid your luck's out, old chap," Dunn muttered, apostrophizing
the unconscious man. "But you did your best to brain me, and that gives
me a sort of right to make you useful. Besides, if the police do run you
in, it won't mean anything worse than a few questions it'll be your own
fault if you can't answer. Anyhow, I can't afford to run the risk of
some blundering fool of a policeman trying to arrest me for assaulting
the local magnate."

Much relieved in mind, for he had been greatly worried by a fear that
this encounter with John Clive might lead to highly inconvenient legal
proceedings, he left the unlucky burglar lying in the shelter of the
furze bushes and returned to the house.

All was as he had left it, the open window gaped widely, almost inviting
entrance, and he climbed silently within. The apartment in which he
found himself was apparently the drawing-room and he felt his way
cautiously and slowly across it, moving with infinite care so as to
avoid making even the least noise.

Reaching the door, he opened it and went out into the hall. All was dark
and silent. He permitted himself here to flash on his electric torch for
a moment, and he saw that the