THE IRON HAND.

Evening Star, Issue 12163, 6 April 1904, Page 2

THE IRON HAND.

[Published by Special Arrangement]

By J. MacLahen Cobban (Author of ‘Pursued by the Law,’ ‘The Last Alive,’ ‘ The Angel of the Covenant,’ ‘The Mystery of the Golden Tooth,’ 'tc,, etc.) [Copyright.] CHAPTER Xm townshend makes two aioves. Mr Townshend had taken note—in such papers as advertise these matters with particular exactness—how “ Bessie Billington ” fthe professional name of Sal Haynes) spent her professional evenings. She was not an «ctrt3s i but “an artiste of the ’alls ”; and cao had to appear at this ’all at a certain hour, at another ‘all at another hour, and so on up to her “ last turn,” which came at ■a certain ’all in the Strand. He had written to her there, in his own name, sayiag he had something of consequence to say to her, and would she sup with him somewhere? He would caU for her at the end of rtet performance. Wlmb ho had dressed he walked slowly ■kram from Jermyn street to the Strand, for tae evening was warm. Ho paid his money mid walked into the ’ail, and yawned through the performance, until Bessie BilHngton’s turn came, the last of all Bessie had a. new song, which had become the rage of the town; it was beginning to be played upon the piano-organs. It had been specialy written for her by one of the poets of the ’alls; for the ladies and gentlemen of the ’alls have poets of their own, poets who have neither part nor lot with those who arc common!v. and most unfairly, known as the “literary” men of London Bessie’s new song was called ‘The Convict’s Wife ’; and it set forth with abundance of gesture and pathos the Billir.gtonian view' of the kind of person the wife of a convict ought to be. She might ho this, that, or the other, hut throughout ■all things—hunger, temptation, and aefcness—she ought to “stick to her man,” . Townshend rvas interested, but not (like carried away by enthusiasm; for the point of view was one to consider; and it was evidently Bessie’s. Reside BFilingtcu played and sang her part with vigor if not with passion—and few actresses who have got a name do more—and then she trotted into the wings, and Townshend rose and slowly wandered round to the stage door to meet her. Ho counted on her taking at least half nn hour clothe herself and to assume her right mind, but long ere that time had elapsed Bessie Bihngtnn—now become Sallv Haynes—by his side on the pavement. “Wc-L” sa.;d she, “here you are; there’s no mistaking .you.” “No; is then ?” said he “Tm like a plain notice: ‘Keep off the grass.’” “Ob,” she cried, “you are funny; yon always was funny—in a serious sort of way. And if you are grass, you’re not so given—are you?” “Ah.’ said he, “you flatter me. I hope Tm not green. It is so silly to be peon. But where shall we go? Will jiom'nos suit yon? It’s just across the road.” “As if I didn’t know where Romano’s was 1 As if nobody ever tool: me to sapper but you 1” “ Now lam desolated !” said ha “ Now I will eat nothing, but gnaw my nails in jealousy I” “ Lor!” cried Sal, ingenuous for all her London experience. “ How awfully, awfully funny yoq are!” That was a catch phrase; and Sal’s wit as I have before noted—consisted in catch phrases that passed from mouth to mouth, phrases that ’bus drivers chaffed slow cabbies with, phrases that errand boys shouted to each other, phrases that hungry policemen murmurmed in the car of cooks. So into Romano's they went—and upTownshend’s experience during the evening bad made him suspicious and watchful, and when he had handed his hat to the waiter he carefully scanned through his eye glass all those who were around him. “Looking for somebody?” asked Miss Haynea, who already had the menu in her hand. said he, sitting down, “if tiere’s anybody to be afraid of.” “What?” she said. “Are you afraid of anybody 1 I shouldn’t have thought it.” “Well. I am not afraid of you, Miss Haynes, and you might very well be angry with me for having practically turned you out of my rooms the last time I saw you,” “OV l or! Don’t say anything about at! said slm. reddening “I was silly! I suppose I said horrid things! Ido when Tm silly and wild like— Oh, but he did malcd-me so wild! Oh. and didn’t I go off just—swearing I’d do awful things to him! And I meant to!”

“But you haven’t done them?” “Ho,” she answered ingenuously, “I ain’t had time. And now I’ve forgotten them. Eve got so much to think about.” Of hew many of us it that true? We abstain from doing wicked things only becau w we haven’t time to do them!

The waiter was standing by the table, solic'temii of orders.

( “I’ll have lobster,” said Miss Haynes ‘ to begin with.” When they were well on the way with snpper Townshend asked her if she had not- wondered what it was of great consequence he wished to say to her. , “Yo,” she answered, “I ain’t wondered, necansc I knew what you wanted me for.” T said he, in his booming voice. TTow eleven of yon!”

“You waut to speak about him,” she continued. “ You want me to promise not to do anything against him.” “WcD, Miss Haynes yon are a little rra.staken,” said he. “I never thought you would do anything against him, however an K I T 7 m might be. I knew vour heart was too good and true.” At that sentimental compliment, which was honestly uttered. Miss Haynes wept |a little, but said nothing. She had the feimplo reserve and diguty of Nature when she chose.

“But,” Townshend continued, “I really wanted to speak to you, not about him, but about your old friend, Mr Evans.” “My old friend, indeed! Ho was no trend of mine!”

well, ’ said Townshend. waving that aside as of no momenta “Have you teen anything of him lately?” “Not seen a ’oof or a ’air of him for (years and years!” she answered succinctly. “Wonld yon like to know where he is fend what he is, now?” ’ “I ain’t partic’lar. As for what he is—he’s a villain—a beast—and always will be But where is he?” 1

. “Ho is in the city of London; his name as Captain Hannibal Bond ” “ Oh, lawks!” “And ho is at the head of what he calls r; ’■'tcctive agency.” “D= S\'o!—the chock of himr” cichumcrl !iss Haynes,

vVc 1 . you know, T always hope to bring t.v.t man to justice. *Pm detertainct' '■xi Jo it soon.”

“ 0<“»i ’ ; ir you said Miss Haynes. “J r " OWI W like you—if you will—to apply t» oaonibal Bond’s Detective Agency for concerning a - man named Lefrov ”

* don’t ''rant to have anything to do YiD* tliat' man! —don’t want to have anvAfeg to say to him!” she exclaimed, with enargy.

“My dear Miss Haynes, yem needn’t,” teii To wash end, persuasively. u V nu IwouldrTt bo doing anything for him, you’d doing it for me. ’This is not his affair U ii» mine. \on will apply in your stage hjune. end you may get the information VilWrl Captain Hannibal Bond knowing wfi,. m nafly are. But the chances are HnixDfbal Bond will call on you himirif and will recognise you. Will that matter T"

Matter? No. I should like him to jwwgna® me; but I don’t think he’d like tnu n*wnis(i him! I’d give him a tit iif wina that I’ve befin waiting a lon tkne S» erre him. I believe it was him iib Wat put away—yon know who t was faking him out of the hospital fes 3-rat thne he made his escape!” “Ah, you do! That’s very likely!” ria Townshend. “Well, will yon do this hr «»?”

**'Wha£ <h> you want it done forf* she fsked.

“I want to know- how much he ‘mows—-

any idea or suspicion! where ..efroy is now.”

“ Lor! Ain’t you a deep 'un, Mr Townshend? Ain’t yon now?” "My dear Miss Haynes,” said Townshend in his politest manner, " that’s my ambition—to be a deep ’un, containing many valuable things—vour regard among the number.” ’

“ Oh, go along with you!” “Well, will you do that for me?” he asked again. “Yes,” she answered, “I’ll do it—for you.”

It was closing time in a very few minutes and they arose and went out together. At the door, Mr Townshend put Miss Haynes into a cab, and himself walked slowly home to Jermyn street

Ho was fairly embarked now on his scheme for bringing Evans to justice, and he considered his plan m all its hearings as he walked. He thought it prudent to warn Mr Joseph Barrage that Captain Hamilton Bond had tracked him to his private abode, for what purpose was not quite apaprent, and he sat down when he entered his rooms and wrote a letter to that effect to Barrage’s office in the City. Next morning Mr Townshend nade another move in his game. He caHed nu Mr Struthers, in Greek street, Soho. It was evident now that Struthers had communication with Evans, and he had denied knowing anything about Evans—not to Townshend himself, but to those Townshend had sent to make inquiry. That was a fact that warranted suspicion of Struthers. There was also ground for suspicion ;n the wealthy position Struthers had attamcxl m so few years. He had a line house .ami grounds, with horses and carriages, on the banks of the Thamo*—that eveiybody knew, hut Townshend had discovered'that he had also a handsome villa at the seaside, and a fine eftate in the Midlands. If Struthers had truly begun as poor as he had seemed, Ills wealth was inexplicable. If, however, he had had hand or share with Evans in the bank robbery, his wealth was explained. Townshend was determined to get at something of the truth, by threats if necessary. He believed that threats would frighten Struthers, for he—unlike Evans, who was nothing after all but an Alsatian captain —was a man of respectable and honored position, with a wife and son he was proud of. Disgrace, apart from punishment, would have no terrors for Evans, ■who could shed his identity as ho chose, but to Struthers disgrace would be ruin. So to Struthers he went.

did not send in his name, lest ■Struthers should know it, be alarmed, and refuse to see him. He merely said he wished to see Mr Struthers on* business. Ho was admitted at once. Mr Struthers scanned him with an obvious flash of recognition.

“ How d’yon do, Mr Strothers,” said Mr Townshend, sitting down, with his eye glass carefully fixed. “Dear me! How many years is it since we met?”

“You have the advantage of me, sir.” said Mr Struthers, loftily. “ X cannot sav that I recollect having ever met you. What is the name, sir?” “The name, my dear man,” said Townshend, “isof no cons-equence. I don’t think you knew my name when we met—although you have probably heard it since. You don’t remember?”

“ I have a sort of recollection of your face, but I can’t fix lime or place,” answered Mr Struthers, with a touch of uneasiness, for the calm assurance of liis visitor was beginning to tell upon him. “Let me recall certain things, Mr Struthers, said Townshend, bringing his eye K- ; vss to bear upon the great pawnbroker. “Years ago you and a man called Evans met on the railway platform of a town in the North where the Assizes were being held. \ou or lie—or both—had been present at the trial of a man named Lefroy for bank burglary. You and Evans jumped into a first class smoking carriage where was already another man. Evans recognised that man as the counsel who had appeared for Lefroy, and presently got into ta'k with him about several things—the Lefroy case among others. Do you remember these circumstances, Mr Struthers ?”

“ Oh. pairfectly!—pairfcctly!” said Mr Strothers. “And you were the other man in the smoking carriage! Yes, yes ! To be sure!” And Air Struthers drummed on the table.

The eyes of the two men met in challenge. Stnithcrs’s wavered, and turned aside.

i “That was almost all I saw of you. Mr Strothers,” continued Townshend. “The rest—well, provoked a suspicion in ms which is not yet allayed.” I must ask you to explain vonrself. sir?” said Struthers.

“ I will. I passed you and Evans on the platform of the junction where we had to change. \ou were in certain company which I know not to be very creditable. I intended, for certain reasons," to travel acrain in the company of Evans and yon. Evans and yon—or, perhaps, Evans alone—guessed my intention, and defeated it hy getting out of the carriage on the off-side, just when the trqin was about to start.” “ That was Evans’s doing,” said Strothers hastily. “He made me get out with him —although, ’pon my soul, I don’t know what bo did it for.”

“ Don’t know. Mr Strothers? Didn’t, perhaps—although I doubt that; but don’t? Think, Mr Strothers.’’

Then Mr Strothers became violently indignant. He shouted, and hammered his table with his Ssl.

“My dear sir, have done with this! I don’t know what your name is, and I don’t want to know! You have presumed, sir, upon my patience and good nature!—presumed! I will not be catechised! And I will not be threatened, and—and blackmailed, because I happened to be acquainted years ago with a person of somewhat doubtful character! Sir. T wish you good morning!” He put out his hand to strike his table bell.

“"Wait!” said Townshend, in a voice of calm command. “When wc met years ago my profession was the law; my‘profession now is the detection nf crime. I am now engaged on a fresh inquiry into the Lefroy case; my evidence implicates the man Evans. Tf you send me away unsataisfied I shah be compelled to class you and Eva-is together.”

Strothers’s condition was tragic to behold. Fierce resentment was in his eye—resentment to which he dared not give wav. It seemed evident that Townshend had struck deeper than he knew. Strothers sternly compressed his lips, pub his hand to his head, and had no sooner done so than he returned to the table. Plainly rage and doubt were in his mind. At length he reduced himself to speech. “I repeat,” he said, with dignity, “that I have not the smallest idea why Evans wanted to avoid you in that second part of the journey.”

Very well, Mr .Struthers. Permit me to toll you why. When I saw you on the platform of the junction you were walking with the girl Haynes. When she saw me she fell away from your side and said a word or two to me. Did you happen to hear what she said?”

‘ I did not,” answered Struthers, mani fcstly interested.

“She said: ‘ThaTs him!’ You don’t know what she meant by that?’ “I do not.”

I knew, because I had had some conversation with her before. She meant: ‘ That’s the man that really committed the burglary for which Lefroy has been convicted !’ I was not sure at the time whether she meant you or Evans I know now she meant Evans. And Evans overheard the werds and knew they referred to him; and that’s why ho avoided me by that trick.”

“Ye astonish me 1 And that girl knew he was the man! Saw him at it, I suppose! But why did she not inform the police?” “ She was afraid—because her father was involved.”

“ Dear me! Her father in it. too!" “There were others, too!” kid Townshend, quickly, “ and I am not yet sure but Mr Struthers was one of them !”

“What’s that ye say?” cried Struthers. “Me? To be even suspected of such a thing! Man; everybody that knows me would say it’s dean ridiculous!” “Well, Mr Struthers,” said Townshend, “suspicion must attach even to a respectable and prosperous person like you if you will keep company with a man like Evans.”

“Me keep company with Evans? I’ve hardly set eves on him from that day to this. - J

“Was he not a witness at your wedding?” “ Oh, that’s what I mean! That was the very last time I saw him! He disappeared completely!—completely!” “There is a man in the City,” continued Townshend, keeping his eye glass fixed upon Struthers, “who keeps what he calls a detective agency. He calls 1 himself Captain Hannibal Bond. Do you happen to know him. Mr Struthers?”

“Captain—Hannibal—Bond? N-no. Wait. Let me think. Yes, yes. Hannibal Bond —a big, broad, swaggering kind of fellow? Came to me the other day—’bout a matter of business. Oh, yes, I suppose I must say I know him.”

“ Did you recognise Captain Hannibal Bond, Mr Struthers?”

“Recognise him?” “ Did you see that Captain Hannibal Bond and Mr Evans are one and the same person? I did, and I have only seen Mr Evans once.”

“ Really ! Dear me! Dear me! You astonish me!”

- “ Really, Mr Struthers! You are either a rogue or a fool! And I know which 1 think you are! And I’m going to have the truth of this, or apply for a warrant of arrest !”

Townshend leaned over the table in his most threatening aspect. His crest of black hair stood up, his eye glass flashed, and the resounding Ad am’s apple went up and down in his long, lean throat. He had reduced .Mr Struthers to a condition quite gelatinous. He noted that, and he went on in peremptory fa.-hion. “ Mr Evans, or Captain Hannibal Bond, is in the hollow of my hand. I have but to close my hand”—he suited the action to the word—“and he is gripped tight! And I will hold you so, too!” “Will you?” cried Strothers, and he shook his great, hairy, freckled fist against Townshend’s nose.

Townshend’s moustache lifted with a smile—one of his own peculiar. “ Don’t be an ass,” said he. “ This has not got to bo settled by fisticuffs;” but he conceived a respect for the great pawnbroker. “ Malm up your mind, Mr Strothers, that I have got Mr Evans, and 1 will not let liim go. The only question is will you be with him and ruin, or with me and the law.”

“Mr Whatevcr-your-name-is, I will be neither art nor part with him, nor with ruin. Tell me what ye want, and I’ll see if I can accommodate ye.” Now, said Townshend, “ this is with a clear understanding on my part that you will not be pursued whatever you may tell me. What dn you know of Mr Evans’s breaking into the' bank?”

‘ I know nothing; but I suspected—l can t teU you quite when—that he was the man.”

. , coarse, then, you had no hand in it ? ’ said Townshend.

No hand at all! —none at all!” cmplia sised Struthers.

“ Did yon have any share in it ?” I think—l think now—that I may have had a share in it. without knowing' A matter of £2OO, that he had owed me and that he had promised, lie paid me at that time. He did not tell me where he had got the money, and I did not ask him.” u > should you ?” raid Townshcnd. I call that a perfectly fair and innocent transaction.” Struthers looked at Towushend as if he suspected him of sarcasm. “ I do,” repeated Townshcnd. But the assurance did not seem to relieve the pawnbroker. “Now we understand each other,” continued Townshcnd, “ and all I ask of you,' Mr Struthers—absolutely all—is that ’you will not alarm Captain Hannibal Bond* hotelling him what has passed between us.” Struthers answered by a mere inclination of. the head; and Townshcnd did not insist on an answer in words, for he conceived that it must be to Struthers's own interest that he should be silent concerning their interview. ° "But for a man that has got off so lightly, thougut Townshcnd to himself when he had taken his leave, “ the pawnbrokcr docs not seem cheerful. Can there be any more than he has confessed?” CHAPTER XVHL KIDMAITERY. I* rom the date of the interview when Towushend successively threatened and cajoled great pawnbroker of Greek street the Greek,” as he was commonly called—the game was played apace. Late in the afternoon,’Thomas Chambers, the traitor in the camp of Captain Hannibal Bond, came to Jeimyn street. “ Un urgent business, Markis,” said Mortimer. He was immediately ushered into tiro sanctum, where Mr Towushend with a cigarette was resting, with shaded windows, from the exhaustion of the heat,. i _ Well, my friend,” said the great man, “important news, I suppose?” I( “J think so, sir,” answered' Chambers. But you shall judge. lam one of the men sot on to shadow your friend, Mr Joseph Burrago, and to watch his house.” Why is he watched and shadowed? Have you any idea?” “I have not, sir—except that the Captain thinks that Mr Burrage is not what he appears to be, said Chambers. “ I heard him say after he Lad first seen Mr Barrage, ‘I believe that cripple is a fraud. He is too long in the body for his length of arm to be the genuine article.’” ° Oh, he said that, did ho?” Towushend remarked aloud; but to himself he said : ‘ lie s a clcver t devil!” He blew a spiral of smoke, rose, got out a box of cigars, come liquor, and a syphon of soda-water, and set them on tne tabie, saying, “ Help yourself.” That was one secret of his success with his fellow-workers; he set them on an equal social footing with himself, and they repaid him with faithful allegiance. “W 7 ell", what’s the important news?” “ Mr Burrage is to be kidnapped to-night at nine o’clock.”

“ To-night! Oh!” boomed Townshend “Well, we shall play the game out. Captain Hannibal Bond wants the cripple; he shall have him.”

He touched the electric button which was on the table, Mortimer came to the summons.

“ Yes, Mark!#”

“Bing up Mr Bun-age on the telephone and say I must see- him in the course of au hour; and a>k him to stay in his office till I see him.”

Elien townshend rose. The detective made as if to take off his drink and go. (1 “You needn’t hurry,” said Townshend. ‘ I am going to_ make myself presentable. Come and talk in my dressing-room; you can bring your drink and smoke with you.” Townshend, while dressing so as to appeal’ someone other than he was, put some questions to Chambers. Among others, he asked:

“By the way, do you know anything m particular of Strutters, the pawnbroker in Soho?”

What, sir—the Greek? I should just think I do!” came the answer. “It’s years ago since I first knew him. I waa then on duty at night m the Opera at Covent Garden there were lots of jewels always in the place, and you wouldn’t believe or p’raps, you know—how many get lost every night. Some get found and are given up, for the look of the thing; but more are found and not given up. Those that were found and not given up went to the Greek. I first took him a fine star' of brilliants—worth at least fifty pounds. What do you think he gave me for it? Three quid!. That’e how he made his money! Now, of course, countesses and duchesses pop their jewels with him, and he charges big interest for the accommodation.”

“ Has he given up the other business altogether, then?” “I don’t think he has,” answered Chambers. “ I don’t think he would; it was too profitable.” “ But very risky,” put in Townshend. “Not more risky than other things that he does.”

Townshend glanced ehrewdly at the man, upon whose countenance he noted a kina ~i sub-consciousness that his tongue had wagged too loose. A former suspicion arose in To wash end’s mind, and he gave voice to it.

“ Has Captain Hannibal Bond anv traffic with him?”

“A good deal, I should say,” was Chambers’s answer; but having said that, he fell silent, and Townshend pressed him no more with questions. A lew minutes more, and Townshend stood forth an old military gentleman, white-haired, white-moustached, tightly frock-coated, tender-footed, and courteous, fChnmaa Chambers hh aJmiwti™

of the completeness of the change. Townshend wae ready to go out, and Chambers rose to go also.

“ You need not hurry,” said Townshend.- “ You can talk with Mortimer a little while —he is very good company.” So Townshend went off by himself, carrying a small hand-bag, and making his exit, not by his own street door, but by the door of the wine merchant. Arrived in Regent street, he hailed a cab and told cabby to drive to the GuildhaU, in the City. “Which entrance, sir?” asked cabby, when he had arrived in Cheapside. “The front will do,” said Townshend. At the front he' alighted and dismissed the cab. He then turned away among the bcwHdering arrangement of streets and yards and courts that are in the neighborhood of the great centre of city life. He carried himself, and his cane, and his bag jauntily, but he trod delicately, like Agag, because of his presumably gouty toes. In a certain corner, away from the rush of traffic, sat an old maimed sailor, knitting wooOen scarfs. Like Mr Joseph Burrage, be was reduced to stumps; but, unlike Mr Joseph Barrage, he used no crutches, only things like tall pattens for his hands to walk with. His hat was off and lay ready for the coppers of the charitable, and his bare head was also bald—completely bald, save for a little grey curl cherished over each ear.

“I come from Mr Townshend,” said the military gentleman, stopping in front of the old sailor, and dropping a coin into his hat. ._ “ Ah, yes, sir,” said the old sailor, raising his finger to his forehead, and fixing a shrewd and searching eye on the military gentleman. “I want to speak to you,” said the military gentleman. “ Rollow me round to the Co<k and Magpie—the little back room.” The military gentleman went on, and in a second or two the old sailor arose and followed him—if the action he performed to set himself in motion can be caHed rising Soon they were together in the little baric room of the Cock and Magpie. The military gentleman gave the waiter a halfcrown, and asked that they might be undisturbed by any intruders. “ That’s easily managed, sir,” said the waiter. He locked the door by which they had entered, and retired by another door that evidently opened on the private re cesses of the house. “If you want me,” he added, “I’ll come in by this door.”

“Well, old friend, how are you?” asked Townshc-nd of the sailor, when the waiter wae gone; he spoke in his natural voice and manner.

' Oh, bless your ’eart! I wondered if it could be your honor! Ho, ho, ho! But that’s a good un !” “Well, now,” continued Townshend, “I am in a mighty hurry—for I have some business to do quick, and I want you to help me.”

“ Help your honor? Won’t I just! Your honor’s been a kind, good friend to mo many’s the time ”

ies, I know. Bui stow that now, and listen to me. 1 have a friend called Joseph Burrage.”

“To be sure, sir, I know Mr Joseph Burrage. I heard on him, and now I know him by eyesight.” Tnat s all right, then,” said Townshend. “I needn’t explain what he looks like.”“You needn’t, sir. He’s just chopped off short—like me.”

“ I have discovered a plot to kidnap him to-night. I can’t let that happen to him; and I want you to be in his house, and be kidnapped in place of him. When they find out you’re the wrong man they’ll^soon let you go. If they offer to do you any harm you can look after yourself a bit. can’t you ?”

Can’t I just! Look here !” He opened the bosom of his jumper, and revealed a knife in its sheath. “ I always carries this for what they term emergencies; ’cause, ye see, I livee among a low lot.” ’ “ Well, Will you do it for ten pounds ?” asked Townshend.

“Ten pounds? Why, it’s a fortin! I'd do it for the fun o’ the tiling, and thank ycr honor.” “All right. Whc-n'itVover Til meet you and give you the money, and leam all you saw and heard. Now you must begin to get ready.”

iownshend opened his bag and produced a <tnd white whiskers and beard. With these, and some touches of color and cosmetic, the old sailor’s head might pass for that of Mr Joseph Burrage. Townshend told him so, and said that for the completion of the resemblance he must wait there for Mr Joseph Burrage, who would come and surrender to him bis clothes.

“When you reach Mr Barrage’s bouse, vrithin the next hour or so, I’ll meet you there,_ and give you final instructions.” “ Eight you are, yer honor. And Tm to Trait ’ere for Mr Burrage.” The military gentleman then left the Cock and Magpie, after consultation with the waiter, and returned into Cheapside. There he entered an outfitter’s, and purchased, as for himself, what would be called “a complete rig-out”—that is to eay, the necessary amount of clothing for a man, from the skin outward, and from the head downward. These he ordered to be sent at once—on the instant—to the head-waiter at the Cock and Magpie. He then took a cab to Burr age’s office, and was doubtless observed to "enter i.y such of Captain Hannibal Bond's creature*ae were on the watch. After some little while of conference he came out of the office in company with Burrage, saw Barrage into a call—Barrage had taken to cabs for the last day or two, because his go-cart needed repair—told the cabman in a sufficiently loud voice to drive to the Cock and Magpie in a certain street, and then himself marched awav.

It was past four o’clock. It was. therefore. not to be expected that Burrage would return to his office that day, and it is therefore likely that those who were ehadowing Barrage followed him to the Cock and Magpie. If they did they saw him enter; and if they waited they saw him (apparently) come out in about half an hour, enter a cab. and drive home to Islington. They probably did not wait longer; but, had they waited, they would have scon a middle-aged man, dark, clocshaved, sad and sombre-looking, and singularly weak in his gait, come out, walk a little way, halt, as if to rest, and then walk again, and so on, until ho found a cab, which he engaged and drove off in. (To be continued.)