hen dawned upon me that the slow revolutions of his feet
were due, in reality, to the unusually high gear of the machine that he
was riding. As I realised this, and at the same moment recalled the
bicycle that we had seen in the station, the fugitive swung round into
Little James' Street and vanished.

The speed at which the man was travelling made further pursuit utterly
futile, so I turned and walked back, panting and perspiring from the
unwonted exertion. As I re-entered Henry Street, Thorndyke emerged from
the mews and halted on seeing me.

"Cyclist?" he asked laconically, as I came up.

"Yes," I answered; "riding a machine geared up to about ninety."

"Ah! he must have followed us from the station," said Thorndyke. "Did
you notice if he was carrying anything?"

"He had a walking-stick in his hand. I didn't see anything else."

"What sort of walking-stick?"

"I couldn't see very distinctly. It was a stoutish stick--I should say a
Malacca, probably--and it had what looked like a horn handle. I could
see that as he passed a street lamp."

"What kind of lamp had he?"

"I couldn't see; but, as he turned the corner, I noticed that it seemed
to burn very dimly."

"A little vaseline, or even oil, smeared on the outside of the glass
will reduce the glare of a lamp very appreciably," my companion
remarked, "especially on a dusty road. Ha! here is the proprietor of the
broken window. He wants to know, you know."

We had once more turned into John Street and now perceived a man,
standing on the wide doorstep of the house with the shattered window,
looking anxiously up and down the street.

"Do either of you gents know anything about this here?" he asked,
pointing to the broken pane.

"Yes," said Thorndyke, "we happened to be passing when it was done; in
fact," he added, "I rather suspect that the missile, whatever it was,
was intended for our benefit."

"Oh!" said the man. "Who done it?"

"That I can't say," replied Thorndyke. "Whoever he was, he made off on a
bicycle and we were unable to catch him."

"Oh!" said the man once more, regarding us with growing suspicion. "On a
bicycle, hay! Dam funny, ain't it? What did he do it with?"

"That is what I should like to find out," said Thorndyke. "I see this
house is empty."

"Yes, it's empty--leastways it's to let. I'm the caretaker. But what's
that got to do with it?"

"Merely this," answered Thorndyke, "that the object--stone, bullet or
whatever it may ha