ly.

"Well, you'd better do a little running now then," said the colonel.
"We may want his signature for the bank."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to draw what we've got and I advise you to do the same. I
suppose you haven't made any preparations to get away, have you?"

"No," lied Pinto, remembering with thankfulness that he had received a
letter that morning from the aviator Cartwright, telling him that the
machine was in good order and ready to start at any moment. "No, I have
never thought of getting away, colonel. I've always said I'll stick to
the colonel----"

"H'm!" said the colonel, and there was no very great faith in Pinto
revealed in his grunt.

Crewe came along an hour later and seemed the least perturbed of the
lot.

"Here's the cheque-book," said the colonel, taking it from a drawer.
"Now the balance we have," he consulted a little waistcoat-pocket
notebook, "is L81,317. I suggest we draw L80,000, split it three ways
and part to-night."

"What about your own private account?" asked Pinto.

"That's my business," said the colonel sharply. He filled in the cheque,
signed his name with a flourish and handed the pen to Crewe.

Crewe put his name beneath, saw that the cheque was made payable to
bearer, and handed the book to the colonel.

"Here, Pinto." The colonel detached the form and blotted it. "Take a
taxi-cab, see Ferguson, bring the money straight back here. Or, better
still, go on to the City to the New York Guaranty and change it into
American money."

"Do you trust Pinto?" asked Crewe bluntly after the other had gone.

"No," said the colonel, "I don't trust Pinto or you. And if Pinto had
plenty of time I shouldn't expect to see that money again. But he's got
to be back here in a couple of hours, and I don't think he can get away
before. Besides, at the present juncture," he reflected, "he wouldn't
bolt because he doesn't know how serious the position is."

"Where are you going, colonel?" asked Crewe curiously. "I mean, when you
get away from here?"

Boundary's broad face creased with smiles.

"What a foolish question to ask," he said. "Timbuctoo, Tangier, America,
Buenos Ayres, Madrid, China----"

"Which means you're not going to tell, and I don't blame you," said
Crewe.

"Where are you going?" asked the colonel. "If you're a fool you'll tell
me."

Crewe shrugged his shoulders.

"To gaol, I guess," he said bitterly, and the colonel chuckled.

"Maybe you've answer