your elbow," said Anthony. "It is for you to decide,
sir, whether it should be rung."

Harrison Smith tugged at the bell pull viciously.

"And, Anthony, dear, will you bring me my motoring bonnet?"

Anthony pointed at the motoring bonnet lying on the table next to the
rose basket, wherein, hidden by the stalks and leaves, was the morocco
letter case.

"Take the damn thing in yourself," said Harrison Smith.

It was Dirk who moved forward suspiciously as Barraclough picked up the
bonnet and moved toward the bedroom. Harrison Smith waved him back.

"There's no other door. Keep a watch on the window," he ordered.

Anthony entered unmolested and at precisely that moment Bolt came in from
the garden.

The united forces did not waste time in greetings.

"We've got him," said Harrison Smith. "He's in there with his mother."

This was evident enough, for the sound of their voices was audible, Mrs.
Barraclough's high pitched tones crying out:

"Don't sit on the bed, dear, it creases the quilt."

"Better look out," Bolt warned. "He's as slippery as an eel."

"Trust me, we're just waiting to get rid of the old woman, and then----"

The other door opened and Jane scampered in, crying:

"Did 'ee ring, marm, did 'ee ring?"

"Put that basket of roses in the car, Jane," Mrs. Barraclough replied,
and as Jane turned to obey, from the garden in rushed Flora and
Conybeare, calling on their mistress to hasten.

"Mrs. Brassbound, Mrs. Brassbound," cried Flora. "There's not a moment
to lose."

"Terrible bad she is, and cryin' out for 'ee, m'am."

In the midst of this confusion appeared a veiled and cloaked figure,
apparently belonging to Mrs. Barraclough, who nervously flapped hands and
hastened, surrounded by a babbling mob of servitors, toward the nearest
window.

It did not occur to Barraclough's enemies to offer any resistance to this
general exodus, their attention was absorbed by the bedroom door, which
had shut with a snap and the click of a key. They waited just long
enough for the party of cackling females to get out of the room and down
the path, then rushed at the door with foot and shoulder. It stood up
longer than might have been expected, but Bolt's weight was more than
ordinary woodwork could withstand. The lock burst--the headings split
and it fell inward with a crash.

Standing by the window, waving a knotted handkerchief to a disappearing
car was Mrs. Barraclough. She scarcely wasted a glan