tell you there are wily birds east of Suez. They are up to
all the tricks, both of East and West."

The two visitors did not stay five minutes with Mr. Buxton. They
wished their visit to have the air of a mere passing call, and when he
had shaken hands with them and wished them good luck, they left his
rooms, strolled into Chancery Lane, and went gently up towards Holborn
as if they had nothing to do but stare at the sights of the town like
country cousins.

"Jack," said Buck softly, "let's pull up and look at this shop window,
the panes have just got the bulge I want."

Jack, wondering a little what his companion meant, stopped, and they
stared into a print shop where photographs of eminent judges and
K.C.'s were set out in rows.

"Say, this is bully," murmured Buck. "Move a bit on one side, Jack, so
that I can see the street behind us reflected in the glass. Now, come
on, I've seen all I want. Don't turn your own head or you'll spoil the
show."

They walked on together, and Buck muttered in deep satisfaction: "I've
spotted the man following us; a stout chap with a double chin and a
look like a fat policeman out o' work. I reckon I've tumbled to this
game. I've seen him outside our hotel."

"Is it one of the gang?" asked Jack.

"Oh, no," replied his companion. "More likely to be one o' these
private detectives hired to watch us. Now we've got to throw pepper
into his eyes, an' then make a break for the station."

Buck raised his hand and hailed a growler. They got in, Buck said
"Marble Arch," and away trotted the horse. Buck now set himself to
keep a watch out of the little window at the back of the cab, and soon
gave a chuckle of satisfaction.

"He's coming," he said, "he's in a hansom about fifty yards behind.
This makes it a dead cert that he's our man. It would be a bit too
much of a coincidence for him to be outside our hotel last night,
following us up Chancery Lane to-day, and now tracking us along Oxford
Street."

"How will you drop him?" asked Jack.

"As easy as tumbling off a log," replied Buck. "We'll use Connaught
Mansions. Do you remember its two entrances? We'll pop in at one and
out at the other."

Jack laughed, and understood at once. His father had a flat at
Connaught Mansions, a huge block of flats near Lancaster Gate, which
served as Mr. Haydon's London home between his journeys. They had
made no use of it during the few days they had been in town,
preferring a hotel near Mr. Buxton'