and perhaps, when that is known, some antidote may
be found to save the dear old dad and restore him to what he was. Can't
you do this? For God's sake, say that you can."

"At all events, I can try, Mr. Bawdrey," responded Cleek.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Bawdrey gratefully. "I don't care a
hang what it costs, what your fees are, Mr. Headland. So long as you run
those two to earth, and get hold of the horrible stuff, whatever it is,
that they are using, I'll pay any price in the world, and count it cheap
as compared with the life of my dear old dad. When can you take hold of
the case? Now?"

"I'm afraid not. Mysterious things like this require a little thinking
over. Suppose we say to-morrow noon? Will that do?"

"I suppose it must, although I should have liked to take you back with
me. Every moment's precious at a time like this. But if it must be
delayed until to-morrow--well, it must, I suppose. But I'll take jolly
good care that nobody gets a chance to come within touching distance of
the pater, bless him! until you do come, if I have to sit on the mat
before his door until morning. Here's the address on this card, Mr.
Headland. When and how shall I expect to see you again? You'll use an
alias, of course?"

"Oh, certainly! Had you any old friend in your college days whom your
father knew only by name and who is now too far off for the imposture to
be discovered?"

"Yes. Jim Rickaby. We were as inseparable as the Siamese twins in our
undergrad. days. He's in Borneo now. Haven't heard from him in a dog's
age."

"Couldn't be better," said Cleek. "Then 'Jim Rickaby' let it be.
You'll get a letter from him first thing in the morning saying that
he's back in England, and about to run down and spend the week-end
with you. At noon he will arrive, accompanied by his Borneo servant
named--er--Dollops. You can put the 'blackie' up in some quarter of the
house where he can move about at will without disturbing any of your own
servants and can get in and out at all hours; he will be useful, you
know, in prowling about the grounds at night and ascertaining if the
lady really does go to bed when she retires to her room. As for 'Jim
Rickaby' himself--well, you can pave the way for his operations by
informing your father, when you get the letter, that he has gone daft on
the subject of old china and curios and things of that sort, don't you
know."

"What a ripping idea!" commented young Bawdrey. "I twig. He'll get