inch. Then, without warning, the fox doubled.
With a single turn of his iron wrist Ralph wrenched his horse round
without the loss of a second, but as he glanced back over his shoulder
he perceived that the Master was only twenty yards behind. Ralph
redoubled his efforts, his eyes glued to the white bundle clenched in
the cub's dripping jaws.

Through field and farmyard, by barn and byre, over rick and river, they
sped, and ever the gap between the fox and Ralph lessened, while the gap
between Ralph and Sir Ernest grew wider, and the savage baying of the
hounds, mingled with the frenzied view halloos of the Hunt, receded
further into the distance. Never had the Chingerley Hunt known such a
chase.

At last Ralph recognized that his chance had come. Leaning over his
horse's ears, he took careful aim and slashed out with his long whip.
Unerringly the lash coiled round the papers and jerked them from the
fox's mouth. A single glance showed him that they were, as he had
anticipated, the forged documents.

Two minutes later Sir Ernest found the exhausted fox lying insensible by
the roadside. Glancing up, he perceived Ralph vanishing over the crest
of a hill.

"Curse him!" he muttered savagely. "Curse him! I must and will overtake
him before he reaches the church or the game is up. If I take a short
cut under the hill I can outwit him yet. Curse him again!"

Mercilessly lashing his foaming horse, he galloped in the direction of
the church. As he rode a sense of the urgency of the situation grew upon
him. If he arrived first, Wonderson could be arrested, if necessary at
the pistol's point, before he entered the churchyard, and the papers
recovered. If he was too late.... He plunged his spurs an inch deep into
his weary mount.

At length the desperate Mazeppa-like dash was over. As he shot through
the lych-gate Sir Ernest breathed a sigh of relief. A policeman stood by
the church porch awaiting him. Wonderson had been beaten.

With an ugly laugh of triumph he swung himself from the horse. Stolidly
the constable turned to face him. Sir Ernest gave one startled
exclamation as he saw, not Ragley, but a stranger. He had been
forestalled.

The heavy hand of a second policeman fell on his shoulder from behind.

"Sir Ernest Scrivener," said a voice solemnly, "I arrest you on a charge
of forgery, and I advise you to come quietly."

Sir Ernest glanced round and saw that he was completely surrounded by
police.

As the hand