t the bottom of Clarges Street to allow a taxi, laden with
luggage, to pass. The taxi had its cover down and inside he had a
glimpse of a girl with a happy, smiling face. The girl was Isabel
Irish and the brief glimpse decided him.

"One more cast," he said and jumped into an empty cab that was coming
down the slope.

"Follow that chap in front," he cried. "The one with box on top.
Don't lose sight of him whatever happens."

He slammed the door and settled down on the cushions. Pursuer and
pursued threaded their way through the traffic to Waterloo Station.

CHAPTER 14.

"OFF THE BEATEN TRACK."

Anthony Barraclough's mother was seventy-eight and still a sport. She
loved her garden, she loved her son and she loved adventure. She was
very fond of life, of punctuality, of the church, and of good manners.
She was deeply attached to the memory of her late husband and her late
sovereign, Queen Victoria, upon whom, with certain reservations, she
patterned herself. The reservations were a taste for stormy literature
and a habit of wearing her ice-white hair bobbed. The bobbing of her
hair, and it used to be waist long, was a tribute to patriotism. She
sacrificed her "ends" in 1914 to give a lead to hesitating girls of the
neighbourhood. This she conceived to be a duty and one that would
materially expedite the close of hostilities.

Mrs. Barraclough lived in the sweetly named village of Clyst St. Mary
where you will find Devon at its gentlest. She was waited upon by four
strapping girls who bore the names Flora, Agnes, Jane and Cynthia.
These young women arrived in a body during the spring of 1919 and took
possession of the house. Flora who was spokesman of the party bore a
note from Anthony in which he wrote--

"Mother Darling,

Am sending these girls to look after you. No more servant worries.
They are tophole. Flora and Jane saved my life when I was in France.

Love,
TONY."

That was all.

Being a dutiful mother, Mrs. Barraclough asked no questions;--instead
she arranged accommodation and bought some new dimity chintzes for the
top floor bedrooms.

As Anthony declared, the girls were certainly tophole and made their
mistress so unreasonably comfortable that she greatly feared the risk
of being spoilt. It is true they perplexed her not a little, since no
single one of them bestrewed the house with fallen aspirates, sang
while sweeping nor spoke ill of her fellow. Herein perhaps the