l be there in a minute, sir," he answered. "It's Lime Street
Station you want, isn't it?"

"No; Central Station," I answered. "I told you Central Station; drive
there at once like the very devil. I must catch that train, for it is
the last one to-night."

"All right, sir; I can do it," he cried, whipping up his horse again.

Once more I pulled out my watch; the hands pointed to three minutes to
seven.

At ten minutes past we were driving into the station. I flung the man
half a sovereign, and darted into the booking-office.

"To Brent, sir? The last train has just gone," said the clerk, with an
impassive stare at me through the little window.

I flung my bag down in disgust and swore a great oath. But for that
idiot of a driver I should have just caught the train. All of a sudden a
horrible thought flashed through my brain. Had the cabman been bribed by
Wickham? No directions could have been plainer than mine. I had told the
man to drive to Central Station. Central Station did not sound the
least like Lime Street Station. How was it possible for him to make so
grave a mistake?

The more I considered the matter the more certain I was that a black
plot was brewing, and that Wickham was in the thick of it. My brain
began to whirl with excitement. What was the matter? Why was a lay
figure in Murdock's bed? Why had I been taken upstairs to see it?
Without any doubt both Mrs. Murdock and Wickham wished me to see what
was such an admirable imitation of a sick man--an imitation so good,
with those ghastly moans coming from the lips, that it would have taken
in the sharpest detective in Scotland Yard. I myself was deceived until
I touched the forehead. This state of things had not been brought to
pass without a reason. What was the reason? Could it be possible that
Murdock was wanted elsewhere, and it was thought well that I should see
him in order to prove an alibi, should he be suspected of a ghastly
crime? My God! what could this mean? From the first I had mistrusted
Wickham. What was he doing in Murdock's house? For what purpose had he
bribed the driver of the cab in order to make me lose my train?

The more I thought, the more certain I was that Cressley was in grave
danger; and I now determined, cost what it might, to get to him that
night.

I left the station, took a cab, and drove back to my hotel. I asked to
see the manager. A tall, dark man in a frock-coat emerged from a door at
the back of the office and in