ight they found a
telegram and a letter awaiting them.

The former was from Dr Brandram to Mr Armstrong--

"Come at once."

The letter was a missive addressed to Roger at Maxfield from London, and
forwarded back to Boulogne. It was from Mr Fastnet.

"Dear Ingleton,--Oddly enough I stumbled yesterday across the very
piece of paper I spoke to you of. Here it is for what it was worth."

Roger eagerly opened the yellow sheet. It announced a performance of
_Hamlet_ at Folkestone by a celebrated company of stars under the
direction of a Monsieur Callot. Among the actors was a Mr John Rogers,
who took the part of the ghost in the first act. Further down was
mentioned a Miss Callot, who acted the part of a page. And the bill
announced that after the performance in Folkestone the company would
perform for two nights only in Boulogne. More important, however, than
any other particular was a footnote that Monsieur Callot was "happy to
receive pupils for instruction in the dramatic art at his address, 2
Long Street, London, W. Terms moderate. Singing and dancing taught by
Madame Callot."

Here at last seemed a clue. The pulses of the two friends quickened as
they read and re-read the time-worn document.

"The boat sails in two hours," said Mr Armstrong, "I must leave you in
town. Brandram would not telegraph for me like this unless he meant
it."

"I suppose it means my bro-- Ratman, has turned up again. If so,
Armstrong--"

"Well?" inquired the tutor, digging his glass deep into his eye.

Roger said nothing.

On the following afternoon Mr Armstrong had a pleasant game of
Association football with Tom on the Maxfield lawn, and Miss Jill, who
volunteered as umpire, gave every point in favour of the tutor.

Just about the time when he kicked his final goal, Roger Ingleton,
minor, in London arrived at the dreary conclusion, after an hour's
painful study of directories and maps, that there was no such street as
Long Street, London, W.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

SHARKS BY LAND AND WATER.

Mr Brandram's abrupt summons to Mr Armstrong was not due to the
reappearance on the scene of the mysterious Robert Ratman. It was, in
fact, at the instance of Miss Rosalind Oliphant that the doctor sent his
message.

That young lady had returned a week ago to find everything at Maxfield
awry. Her father was gloomy, mysterious, and haggard. The rumour of
Mr Ratman's extraordinary claims had become the common prop