as you can streak it."

The chauffeur proved that he could "streak it" as close to the margin of
the speed limits as the law dared wink at, even in the case of the
well-known red limousine, and in a little over twenty minutes pulled up
before the park gates. Narkom jumped out, beckoned Sir Henry to follow
him, and together they hurried into the grounds in quest of Cleek.

Where the famous tulip beds made splotches of brilliant colour against
the clear emerald of the closely clipped grass they came upon him, a
solitary figure in the garb of the elderly seaman, "Captain Burbage, of
Clarges Street," seated on one of the garden benches, his hands folded
over the knob of his thick walking-stick and his chin resting upon them,
staring fixedly at the gorgeous flowers and apparently deaf and blind to
all else.

He was not, however, for as the superintendent approached without
altering his gaze or his attitude in the slightest particle, he said
with the utmost calmness: "Superb, are they not, my friend? What a pity
they should be scentless. It is as though Heaven had created a butterfly
and deprived it of the secret of flight. Walk on, please, without
addressing me. I am quite friendly with that policeman yonder, and I do
not wish him to suspect that the elderly gentleman he is so kind to is
in any way connected with the Yard. Examine the tulips. That's right.
You came in your limousine, of course? Where is it?"

"Just outside the gates, at the end of the path on the right," replied
Narkom, halting with Sir Henry and appearing to be wholly absorbed in
pointing out the different varieties of tulips.

"Good," replied Cleek, apparently taking not the slightest notice. "I'll
toddle on presently, and when you return from inspecting the flowers you
will find me inside the motor awaiting you."

"Do, old chap, and please hurry; time is everything in this case. Let me
introduce you to your client. (Keep looking at the flowers, please, Sir
Henry.) I have the honour to make you acquainted with Sir Henry Wilding,
Cleek; he needs you, my dear fellow."

"Delighted--in both instances. My compliments, Sir Henry. By any chance
that Sir Henry Wilding whose mare, Black Riot, is the favourite for next
Wednesday's Derby?"

"Yes, that very man, Mr. Cleek; and if----"

"Don't get excited and don't turn, please; our friend the policeman is
looking this way. What's the case? One of 'nobbling'? Somebody trying to
get at the mare?"

"Yes. A de