ravelling all night, sir," he remarked
pleasantly.

"It looks right," said Dick Bellamy. "I want a house called The
Myrtles."

Turning to the north, the landlord waved his hand towards the right.

"Two mile, mebbe more, mebbe less. Lies in a bit of a hollow. But you
won't see no myrtles--less they've growed in the night--just a low stone
house with a bit of a copse back o't. Mr. Melchard you're seekin', like?
He's a girt man wi' the teeth," said the landlord, chuckling.

"Big eater?" asked Dick.

"Dentist's my meanin', sir. They do say he keeps seven shops in
Millsborough district, and never drew tooth in his life. Just drives
round so free, takin' t'money. But I reckon, if you're goin' to
t'Myrtles, you know the gentleman."

"I'm going to leave my car here. Don't know how long, but I'll pay you
five shillings a day. I want some food and I've only got five minutes.
Can you manage it?"

Waiting, he scribbled a note in pencil, tore the leaf from his notebook,
demanded an envelope, addressed it, and attacked the cold beef and beer
hurriedly set before him.

"Can you post this?" he asked.

"You passed t'box quarter mile back," said the landlord.

"Half-a-crown if you'll take it yourself."

"All right, sir. But there's no stamp in the house."

"Post it without," said Dick, well pleased.

He laid down his knife and fork.

"Walkin'?" inquired the landlord. "Then you'd better take path across
t'moor. I'll show'ee."

Alone on the heath, Dick felt he had at last a few minutes to consider
his position. Plans must come with events. Though besieged still by the
fear which had haunted him throughout the night, he found comfort,
however indefinite, in the daylight. Time was everything; but if he were
indeed in time, it was well to have the day before him.

The letter to his brother, which he had posted in York at three o'clock
in the morning, though it gave the address of the man he was hunting,
could not, any more than that which he had just entrusted to the
landlord of "The Coach and Horses," reach Scotland Yard in time to bring
help in the immediate danger which he foresaw--danger which he would
never have run the risk of bringing upon Amaryllis Caldegard but for his
conviction of that worse peril threatening her. He was, indeed, sure
that his course, rash as it would be accounted in the event of failure,
offered the best, and perhaps the only chance of taking home with him an
Amaryllis as happy and full of lau