"That remark does not suggest your usual acumen. The American was
preparing the ground for Van Sneck to purchase with a view to a
subsequent exchange. You have not fully grasped the vileness of this
plot yet. I went to Lockhart's and succeeded in discovering that the
purchaser of the returned case was a tall American, quite of the
pattern I expected. Then I managed to get on to the trail at the
Metropole here. They recollected when I could describe the man; they
also recollected the largeness of his tips. Then I traced my man to the
Lion at Moreton Wells, where he had obviously gone to see Reginald
Henson. From the Lion our friend went to the Royal at Scarsdale Sands,
where he is staying at present."

"Under the name of John Smith?"

"I suppose so, seeing that all the inquiries under that name were
successful. If you would like me to come up and interview the man
for you--"

"I should like you to do nothing of the kind," Chris said. "You are more
useful in Brighton, and I am going to interview Mr. John Smith Rawlins
for myself. Good-bye. Just one moment. For the next few days my address
will be the Royal Hotel, Scarsdale Sands."

Chris countermanded the dog-cart she had ordered and repaired to the
library, where Littimer was tying some trout-flies behind a cloud of
cigarette smoke.

"Thought you had gone to Moreton Wells," he said. "Been at the telephone
again? A pretty nice bill I shall have to pay for all those long messages
of yours."

"Mr. Steel pays this time," Chris said, gaily. "He has just given me some
information that obviates the necessity of going into the town. My dear
uncle, you want a change. You look tired and languid--"

"Depression of spirits and a disinclination to exercise after food. Also
a morbid craving for seven to eight hours' sleep every night. What's the
little game?"

"Bracing air," Chris laughed. "Lord Littimer and his secretary, Miss Lee,
are going to spend a few days at Scarsdale Sands, Royal Hotel, to
recuperate after their literary labours."

"The air here being so poor and enervating," Littimer said, cynically.
"In other words, I suppose you have traced Rawlins to Scarsdale Sands?"

"How clever you are," said Chris, admiringly. "Walen's American and
Lockhart's American, with the modest pseudonym of John Smith, are what
Mrs. Malaprop would call three single gentlemen rolled into one. We are
going to make the acquaintance of John Smith Rawlins."

"Oh, indeed, and when do