eur were sheltered from inclement weather. The
chauffeur was lounging on the pavement, smoking a cigarette, and
Fenley, of course, recognized him. His heart leaped. Let him be bold
now, and he might win through. A handkerchief wiped some of the blood
off his face where the skin had been broken by the trees, and he
avoided the glare of the lamps.

"Hello, Tom," he said, "where is the doctor?"

"Inside, sir," with a glance toward an upper room where a light shone.
"What's happened at The Towers, sir? Was it shooting I heard a while
since?"

"Yes. A false alarm, though. The police thought they had found some
suspicious character in the grounds."

"By jing, sir, did they fire at him?"

Fenley saw that the story was weak, and hastened to correct it.

"No, no," he said. "The police don't shoot first. That was my brother,
Robert. You know what a harebrained fellow he is. Said he fired in
order to make the man double back. But that is a small matter. Can I
have one word with Dr. Stern?"

"I'll see, sir," and the chauffeur went to the house.

Furneaux had estimated Hilton Fenley correctly in ascribing to him
the quality of cold-bloodedness. Ninety-nine men among a hundred would
have appropriated the motor car then and there, but Fenley saw by
waiting a minute and displaying the requisite coolness he might
succeed in throwing his pursuers off the trail for some hours.

Stern came. It chanced that he was watching a good patient through a
crisis, and would be detained until daybreak.

"Hello, Hilton," he cried. "What's up now, and what's the racket in
the park?"

Fenley explained, but hurried to the vital matter.

"My car is out of action," he said. "I was going to the Easton garage
to hire one when I saw yours standing here. Lend it to me for a couple
of hours; there's a good fellow. I'll pay well for the use of it."

"Pay? Nonsense! Jump in! Take Mr. Fenley where he wants to go, Tom.
Where to first, Hilton?"

"St. Albans. I'm exceedingly obliged. And look here, Stern, I insist
on paying."

"We can settle that afterwards. Off with you. I'll walk home, Tom."

Away sped the car. Running through Easton, Fenley saw two policemen
stationed at a cross-road. They signaled the car to stop, and his
blood curdled, but, in the same instant, they saw the chauffeur's
face; the other occupant was cowering as far back in the shadow as
possible.

"Oh, it's Dr. Stern," said one. "Right, Tom. By the way, have you seen
anythin