lford, immovable at the
wheel, drove madly ahead!

"What shall I do?" asked the chauffeur in an awed voice.

"Do?" rapped Sheffield savagely. "Pass him and block the road! He's
stark, raving mad!"

So, along that white road, under the placid moon, was enacted the
strangest incident of this entirely bizarre adventure; for Mr. Belford,
in the hired motor, was pursued and overtaken by his own car, which
passed him, forged ahead, turned across the road, and blocked it.

For one moment the Home Secretary, racing down upon them, seemed to
contemplate leaving the path for the grassland, and thus proceeding on
his way; but the chauffeur ran out to meet him, holding up his arms and
crying:

"Stop, sir! _Stop!_"

Mr. Belford stopped the car and fixed his eyes upon the man with a look
of real amazement.

"You?" he said, and turned to Sheffield.

"Who else?" rapped the inspector irritably. "What on earth are you
doing, sir? Where's the quarry--where's Severac Bablon?"

"What!" cried the Home Secretary, from the step of the car. "You have
lost him?"

"Lost him!" repeated Sheffield ironically. "I never had him!"

"But," said Mr. Belford distinctly, and in his question-answering voice,
"did you not return to where I was stationed and inform me that you had
them all locked in an upper room? Did I not, myself, hear their attempt
to break down the door? And did you not report that, their numbers being
considerable, you could not, single-handed, hope to arrest them?"

"Go on!" said Sheffield, in a tired voice. "What else did I tell you?"

"You see," resumed the politician triumphantly, "this _impasse_ is due
to no irregularity in my own conduct! You told me that my limousine had
mysteriously been tampered with, and that the only course was for you
and Jenkins to remain and endeavour to prevent the prisoners from
escaping, whilst I, in their car, returned to Womsley Old Place for your
men! Hearing you behind me, I naturally assumed that the prisoners had
overpowered you and were in pursuit of me!"

"I see!" said Sheffield, removing his hat and scratching his head
viciously.

"Finally," said Mr. Belford, with dignity, "you gave me this note for
your principal assistant, Dawson"--and handed an envelope to the
inspector.

The latter, with the resignation of despair, accepted it, tore it open,
and took out a card. Directing the ray of his pocket-torch upon it,
though in the brilliant moonlight no artificial aid really was