what's been going on in your
absence--you'll learn from it that our impression is that the Squire, as
we call him, was on the _Pike_ with you."

The two elder men went away, and Copplestone turned to Gilling.

"What have you got?" he asked eagerly. "Live news!"

"Might have been livelier and more satisfactory," answered Gilling, "if
it hadn't been for the factor which none of us can help--luck! We tracked
the Squire."

"You did?" exclaimed Copplestone. "Where?"

"When I said we I should have said Swallow," continued Gilling. "You
remember that afternoon of our return from Bristol, Copplestone? It seems
ages away now, though as a matter of time it's only four days ago!--Well,
that afternoon Swallow, who had had two or three more keeping a sharp
look out for the Squire, got a telephone message from one of 'em saying
that he'd tracked his man to the Fragonard Club. I'd gone home to my
chambers, to rest a bit after our adventures at Bristol and Falmouth, so
Swallow had to act on his own initiative. He set off for the Fragonard
Club, and outside it met his man. This particular man had been keeping a
watch for days on that tobacconist's shop in Wardour Street. That
afternoon he suddenly saw the Squire leave it, by a side door. He
followed him to the Fragonard Club, watched him enter; then he himself
turned into a neighbouring bar and telephoned to Swallow. The Squire was
still in the Fragonard when Swallow got there: from that time he kept a
watch. The Squire remained in the Club for an hour--"

"Which proves," interrupted Copplestone, "that he's a member, and that I
ought to have followed up my attempt to get in there."

"Well, anyway," continued Gilling, "there he was, and thence he
eventually emerged, with a kit-bag. He got into a taxi, and Swallow heard
him order its driver to go to King's Cross. Now Swallow was there
alone--and he had just before that met his man scooting round to see if
there was a rear exit from the Fragonard, and he hadn't returned.
Swallow, of course, couldn't wait--every minute was precious. He
followed the Squire to King's Cross, and heard him book for
Northborough."

"Northborough!" exclaimed Copplestone, in surprise. "Not Norcaster? Ah,
well, Northborough's a port, too, isn't it?"

"Northborough is as near to Scarhaven as Norcaster is, you know," said
Gilling. "To Northborough he booked, anyhow. So did Swallow, who, now
that he'd got him, was going to follow him to the North Pole, if ne