of road.

There they were! The grey car was clearly discernible now, and even at
that distance he could estimate something of her progress. He exulted to
note that capture was becoming merely a question of minutes!

Then came a doubt. Suppose it should prove to be the wrong car!

Nearer they drew, and nearer.

The fugitives topped a slope, and against the blue sky was silhouetted a
figure which stood upright in the car--the figure of a big man with
raised arms and out-turned elbows. He was peering back, just as Belford
was peering forward.

"Look at his bowler hat!" yelled Sheffield. "Why, it might be me!"

"It might!" shouted Mr. Belford; "but it isn't! It's Severac Bablon!"

A wood dipped down to the roadside, and its shadows ate up their quarry;
a breathless, nervous interval, and its glooms enveloped Mr. Belford's
party in turn. From out of the darkness the road ahead was clearly
visible. Deserted farm buildings lay scattered in their path where the
trees ended.

The trees slipped behind, and the old farm rose in front.

At the gate of the yard stood the grey car--empty!

"Pull up! Pull up!" cried Mr. Belford.

But long before the car became stationary he had precipitated himself
into the road.

Sheffield dropped heavily behind him, and grasped him by the arm.

"One moment, sir!" he said.

His voice was calm again. He was quite in his element now. A criminal
had to be apprehended, and the circumstances, though difficult, were not
unfamiliar. But strategy was called for; there must be no hot-headed
blundering.

"Yes? What is it?" demanded the Home Secretary excitedly.

"It's this, sir: he'll give us the slip yet, if we don't go slow! Now,
you take charge of the grey car. That's your post, sir. Here--have my
revolver. Step out into the lane there, and see nobody rushes the car!"

"Good--I agree!" cried Mr. Belford, and took the revolver.

"You, young fellow," continued the inspector, addressing the chauffeur,
"may know something of the ins and outs of this place. Do you know if
there's a back door to the main building?"

"There is--yes--down behind that barn."

"Then pull out a big spanner, or anything handy, and go round there.
When you reach the door, whistle. Stop there unless you hear my whistle
inside or till I come through and join you. If he's not in the main
building we can start on the outhouses. But his escape is cut off all
the time by Mr. Belford--see?"

"Quite right, inspector!