l shadow him! By the way, Basset is here. He brought on
Spotty Morgan. Come on over to my room and have a talk with him.
He'll tell you the yarn--It'll surprise you--I haven't time. I'm going
to get right out!" and the receiver went on the hook with a bang.

"Anything I can do, Colonel?" asked Basset. "I'm sorry to have to
disappoint you about this cross, but--"

"Oh, that was my own fault, for taking too much for granted. I should
have asked Grafton more questions, and gotten a description of Mrs.
Larch's ornament. He never said anything to me about being robbed."

"Maybe he didn't count this, it not being worth much," and Basset
flipped the sparkling cross half way across the table.

"Maybe not, and yet--"

But if the colonel had any thoughts regarding Aaron Grafton he kept
them to himself as he made ready to go out.

"Know when you'll be back?" asked Basset.

"No, I can't say. Make yourself at home here. I'll tell 'em at the
desk. Shag will be over presently. One of you stay here so I can
telephone in if I have to. You'd better plan to stay all night if I
don't get back."

"Want to say where you're going?"

"I suppose I'd better. I'm going to Pompey."

"Out where you said Mrs. Larch is staying?"

"Yes, only she doesn't call herself that now."

"I understand."

"She's taken her maiden name again since the separation. Yes, I'm
going to Pompey, and it may be night when I get there. I'll have to do
any shadowing among the shadows I guess, as I've often cast for trout.
But, dark or light, I think I'll bring home the right fish this time."

And so, as the early shadows of the late afternoon were slanting over
Colchester the old detective boarded a train, keeping in view a
well-dressed, freshly-shaven individual, who, for all his slickness and
sleekness, seemed to have about him the air of a tiger. His hands, in
new gloves, slowly clasped and unclasped, as though he would have liked
to twine the fingers about the soft throat of a victim.

"Yes," murmured the colonel, as he sank into his seat, "I think I'll
bring home the big fish this time."

CHAPTER XXI

SWIRLING WATERS

At the little station of Pompey the colonel saw his man leave the
train. For the wily fisherman to slip from the car on the other side
of the track and get behind a tool shanty, was the work of but a
moment, and as the train pulled out, and puffed on its way, the
detective, peering around the corner of the shed