greed to do so, and, being supported by two of the men, I made
my way across the field to the farm; and ten minutes later was driving
into Colchester in the farmer's dog-cart.

At the "Cups" my appearance caused some sensation, but, ascending to my
room, I quickly washed, changed my ruined suit, and made myself
presentable, and then went to see an elderly and rather fussy doctor, who
put on his most serious professional air, and who was probably the most
renowned medical man in the town. The provincial medico, when he becomes
a consultant, nearly always becomes pompous and egotistical, and in his
own estimation is the only reliable man out of Harley Street.

The man I visited was one of the usual type, a man of civic honours, with
the aspirations of a mayoralty, I surmised. I think he believed that I
had injured my head while in a state of intoxication, so I did not
undeceive him, and allowed his assistant to bathe and bandage my wound
and also the bite upon my cheek, while the farmer waited outside for me.

When at last I emerged, I hesitated.

Should I go to the police and tell them what had occurred? Or should I
return alone to Melbourne House, and by my presence thwart whatever
sinister plans might be in progress.

If I went to the police I would be forced to explain much that I desired,
at least for the present, to keep secret. And, after all, the local
police could not render me much assistance. I might give the woman and
her accomplices in charge for attempted murder, but would such course
help in the solution of the Harrington Gardens affair?

After a few moments' reflection I decided to drive straight to the house
of shadows and demand an explanation of the dastardly attempt upon me.

A quarter of an hour later Mr. Cuppin pulled up near the long,
ivy-covered house, and, alighting, I made my way within the iron gate and
up the gravelled path to the front door, where I rang.

I listened attentively, and heard someone moving.

Yes, the house was not empty, as I had half feared.

A moment later a neat maid-servant opened the door, and regarded me with
some surprise.

"Is Mrs. Petre at home?" I inquired.

"No, sir, she isn't," replied the girl with a strong East Anglian accent.

"When will she be in?" I asked.

"I really don't know, sir," she said. "She hasn't left word where she's
gone."

"Is anyone else at home?"

"No, sir."

"How long have you been with Mrs. Petre?" I asked, adding, in an
apo