The Riddle of the Mysterious Light

  CHAPTER XX

  THE STOLEN FORMULAS

  Cleek's first object on getting back to town was to make for Ailsa'scottage at Hampton.

  Always, when staying at the cottage alone, Cleek's disguise was that of"Cap'n Burbage," guardian of his ward, Ailsa Lorne. Mrs. Condiment, thehousekeeper, therefore, greeted the "Cap'n" heartily on the threshold ofthe cottage when he arrived. Ailsa was for the present in safe hands--ona visit with Mrs. Narkom. Secure, therefore, in his "Cap'n Burbage"disguise, Cleek went to and fro, with peace and serenity restored to hissoul. So determined was he to have these few days undisturbed that inspite of his affection for Mr. Narkom, he instructed Mrs. Condiment tosay, in answer to any telephone calls, that he was not at the cottage.

  Mr. Narkom, seated in his office at the Yard, a few days later, flungaside the pen with which he had been beating an idle tattoo, thusshowing the tension and anxiety under which he was almost unbearablylabouring, and wheeled round in his chair. He heard the sound offootsteps, telling him that his trusted messenger, Hammond, wasreturning at last. He gave vent to a little sigh of relief. Now hewould know what had really happened, and be able to prove to a waitingpublic and sneering newspapers that Scotland Yard was not "asleep," butthat neither was it to be bullied nor cajoled into blurting out all thatit knew. "Gad," he ejaculated, mentally, wouldn't he like to have someof those brilliant young cub reporters have his job for a week, and letthem see if they could fathom mysteries, such as were searing hisforehead at the present moment, any quicker than he himself.

  The door opened and shut, and Detective-Sergeant Hammond was steppingbriskly across the room.

  "Well?" rapped out the Superintendent in a sharp staccato born ofnervous impatience. "A false alarm, wasn't it?"

  "No, sir, it's not. It's the greater part of Tooting Common thistime--sheep blown to bits and a few kiddies, too, I'm afraid. I was justin time to see a second explosion myself, as I got there--that's theseventh one altogether, and heaven knows what's the cause or reason. Andwhere will the next one be? The papers will be raving over thisto-night."

  "Can't rave more than they've done now. I'd give my head to make thosebeastly reporters sit up!"

  "There's only one man to help you, sir, beggin' yer pardon." Hammonddropped his voice almost to a whisper. "That's Mr. Cleek----"

  "Do you think I don't know that?" Narkom snapped back, impatiently. "Doyou think I'd have waited till now if I'd known where he was? I've donenothing but ring that confounded 'phone day in and day out and all I getis that 'Captain Burbage is away.' Captain Burbage, indeed! To thinkthat after all these years we can't protect him against those devils ofApaches without his living in this constant disguise."

  "'Tisn't like Mr. Cleek to be long away from the Yard, either," saidHammond, scratching his head reflectively.

  "No. I don't doubt, though, there's some good reason for it, but mylord! what wouldn't I give to hear his blessed voice or see his face atthis moment!"

  Possibly in the whole period of his professional career Mr. Narkom hadnever had a wish granted so speedily, for as the words left his lips,the door behind him flashed open and shut again and there on thethreshold stood a stout, elderly, seafaring man. The sight of him causedthe Inspector fairly to spring from his seat.

  "Cleek!" he cried. "Cleek! Lord, I did want you. I----"

  Cleek smiled as he bore up under the onslaught. "Thought you would whenI saw the papers," he said. Mr. Narkom snorted as if at the name of ahated enemy, then turned to Hammond.

  "Nor a word outside, Hammond, but tell Lennard to come round at once. Weshall need him!"

  Once alone, he turned again to his partner.

  "I suppose it's those explosions," said Cleek, as having divestedhimself of some of the "Burbage disguise," he dived for a cigarette.

  "No, they're an extra burden," said Mr. Narkom, "as if I'm not nearlymad already! And now there's been another one this morning on TootingCommon. But it's this Government business that is killing me."

  Cleek twitched an inquiring eyebrow and waited patiently for the facts.

  "The Kenneth Digby case. I'm expecting him here every minute, but I'venothing new to tell him."

  "Kenneth Digby?" echoed Cleek, a little pucker between his brows. "Anyrelation to the soldier and scientist-inventor of that new machine-guntried out last year?"

  "His son, Cleek. And, as his father is practical guarantee of hisintegrity and uprightness, you can imagine what a blow this has been toColonel Digby and his family."

  "A blow! Does that mean you are trying to tell me that Graham Digby'sson is a traitor to his country?" flung back Cleek in rising tones ofamazement. "Suppose you give me all the facts, old man--just what hashappened."

  "It's like this, Cleek," answered Mr. Narkom. "Young Digby is engagedin laboratory experiments with high explosive; trying, as far as I cangather, to evolve a smokeless powder---- Good heavens, what's wrong?"For his famous associate was sitting erect in his seat, his eyessparkling and brilliant, his brows twitching with excitement, his breathcoming in gasps.

  "Smokeless? Is that the secret? Blithering idiot I was! Of course, achild would have guessed it. But go on, old man. Don't mind me. I'vebeen reading the papers, and am just beginning to see."

  "Well, it's more than I am," ejaculated Mr. Narkom, blankly. "However,to continue: it seems that as fast as Digby evolves a formula our SecretService reports to the War Office that it is known immediately to acertain unfriendly foreign power. Well, Digby is nearly frantic, and isto be here again at 11 o'clock."

  "H'm, it's that now," said Cleek, as he glanced out of the window, "andunless I am mistaken here he comes. Introduce me as Lieutenant Deland inmufti, will you? I'll have a look into things for myself, directly Ihave made a few necessary changes."

  And that was why a minute or two elapsed before, after a brief word onthe house 'phone, Captain Digby was shown in. He was a fine, upstanding,manly-looking young soldier of about eight and twenty, a man withsomething of the scholar's refinement in his bearing. But this morninghe was nearly as hysterical as a schoolgirl.

  "Oh, Mr. Narkom, help me! For God's sake, solve this mystery!" he criedas he gripped Mr. Narkom's outstretched hand in his own and pressed itexcitedly. "My father said everything would be all right just as soon asyou had the matter in your hands--but it's gone, another! The horror anddisgrace of it! I shall kill myself in the end!"

  "Steady, Captain Digby. Let me introduce you to Lieutenant Deland, whowill help you," said Mr. Narkom.

  The young man acknowledged the introduction dumbly, and his look ofappeal went straight to Cleek's heart.

  "Look here, get a firm grip on yourself, Captain, or you'll be in a badway," said Cleek. "Here, swallow this capsule. Swallow it, man! There,that's better. Now let me get a clear grasp of the facts of the case,for I know nothing about it whatever. Begin at the beginning, please.Just what _has_ happened? What has 'gone'?"

  "My latest formula," replied Captain Digby, regaining his composuresomewhat. "I am at work on smokeless powder experiments in my laboratorydown at my country home in Hampshire. It was specially built for me twoyears ago when I first took up this work, and I have a specialdetachment of police and military to guard it."

  "When did you miss this formula?"

  "This morning," was the quick answer. "I had been working over it threedays--night and day. Last night I tested the stuff, and the results weremore satisfactory than hitherto, so I made up my mind to knock off andgo to bed--after I had written out the completed formula as usual."

  "What did you do with it then?"

  Captain Digby passed a hand, stained with chemicals, over his linedforehead. "That's just it," he almost moaned. "I can't remember. Ithought I locked it up in my little wall safe! I meant to, I know, butfailing that, it lay there on the laboratory table and I must have comeaway and left it. In the morning it was gone! I searched the place over,inch by inch. This is my last chance; the authorities will never getover this." His head sank down in his hands.

>   "Where is the laboratory and how is it built?"

  "It is at the side of the house, and was originally a stable till we hadit concreted inside and out. Solid six feet of concrete doors,ceiling--everything.

  "Hullo! Concrete everything? How do you see in it?"

  "Artificial light always, run by my own generator and dynamo, overhead.Only one door opens into the laboratory and that is from thedrawing-room inside the house and it is guarded by a soldier. No oneever enters save myself; no one, not even among the rest of the family,save my father, knows of the nature of my work. Is it any wonder thatmy chief suspects me?"

  "Well, there's nothing to be said or done till I come down and seethings for myself," said Cleek, very quietly. "Will there be anydifficulty in your admitting me into the laboratory, by the way?"

  "Not a scrap. I shall just say you are another colleague----"

  "Another, Captain Digby?" Cleek flashed round on the young man."Another? Does that mean that you have had a colleague or assistantbefore this?"

  "Why, yes--a fellow officer, Captain Brunel--Max Brunel. We are bosomfriends as well. We were at Heidelberg together, and he is the very soulof honour."

  "H'm----" Cleek turned aside to pick up his hat from the rack, a queerlittle smile twitching up the left side of his face, and when he lookedback at Captain Digby his gaze was a very intent one, as if he wereasking himself whether the Captain's innocence and belief were real orassumed.

  * * * * *

  It was exactly two o'clock when Lieutenant Arthur Deland, tall,well-set, and debonair, with the stamp of the army all over him, arrivedas arranged at St. Mary's Abbey, Hampshire, the family seat of theDigbys, which was noted for a wonderful painted shrine of the VirginMary, said to date back to the sixteenth century and renowned throughoutall the southern counties of England.

  He found the laboratory exactly as the young scientist had described it,absolutely sound-proof, light-proof, and as innocent of hole or aperturein its concrete walls and floor--with the exception of the door leadingfrom the dining-room--as the inside of an egg.

  His introduction to the family--a large one--caused him to be voted anacquisition to its amusement by its younger and more frivolous members.Before he had been in the house an hour, the very sight of hisgold-rimmed monocle and the sound of his inane laugh was a signal forthe spoilt Digby twins, aged eight, literally to fling themselves uponhim, notwithstanding the gentle protests of their meek littlefair-haired governess. She had been curtly introduced as Miss Smith byhis hostess, and then allowed to fade away into the obscurity she soobviously preferred.

  Within the next twenty-four hours Lieutenant Deland gained much intimateknowledge as to the ways and characters of an interesting family.Fancies are queer things, and he found himself greatly disliking ColonelDigby's wife, a hard-faced, gushing woman, shrill of voice, and quick toscold, and he was not surprised to learn that she was the Colonel'ssecond wife, and not the mother of the Captain at all. According to thegossip elicited in the servants' hall by Dollops, who had been allowedto accompany him at the last moment, the dreamy, absent-minded scientisthad been snapped up by the lady, herself a widow, when on a visit toVienna. He had found himself married "before he was properly awake," asDollops expressed it with a significant grin.

  Cleek soon found, too, that her contempt for Captain Kenneth was asgreat as her inordinate love for her own son by her first marriage, MaxWertz, a brilliant young scamp of the class of bar-loafers androulette-table haunters. It did not take Cleek long, either, to discoverthat, unknown to the old Colonel or Kenneth, both mother and son werekeenly curious as to the work carried on in the concrete laboratory.

  Cleek played right up both to mother and son, however, and had thesatisfaction of obtaining from both unqualified approval.

  "I say, Deland, you're a good sort," said young Wertz in thedrawing-room that evening--a shade too enthusiastically, perhaps--"buthang it all, if you can go into that silly old stone coffin of alaboratory, why can't I? Jealousy, that's it! Old Ken thinks he's theonly one with brains in his head. What--what's it like in there,anyway?"

  "Dem dark, dirty, and smelly, my boy," was the lieutenant's drawled andexpressive reply. "You keep out of it, old sport. Give you my word, myclothes'll smell of rotten eggs for a week. Hullo, though, who's thatcoming out of it now?"

  Wertz spun round and looked across at the door which led into thelaboratory. "Oh, that's Brunel," he said, carelessly. "Ken's other self,alter ego, and all that sort of thing. Can't bear the man myself. I'llintroduce you if you like, and then I'll go along."

  He performed the ceremony carelessly enough, and then lounged awaywhistling the latest jazz melody.

  Left alone, the two men found themselves mentally sizing each other upas men will do, and Cleek decided silently that he liked the look of MaxBrunel--but not on account of his appearance. That was not veryprepossessing. His face was too scarred from his student days atHeidelberg, and his clothes, which were stained, also reeked of thechemical compounds with which he, like his friend Kenneth, spent hisdays. But his voice was an attractive one, and his eyes, when unshadedby disfiguring glasses, were clear though undisguisedly penetrating.

  That he had been let into the secret of the vanished formula was evidentby his sudden remark.

  "This is a rotten business for Ken, my friend, Mr. Deland. Do you thinkyou are likely to make any discovery?"

  "Well, Mr. Brunel, to tell you the truth and just between ourselves Idon't think there is a ghost of a chance. It's gone. I must get asquint into the room and write immediately--you have no telephone, haveyou?"

  "No, Mr. Deland, and only one post. At that all the letters have to goby motor to the next town. Lately the Colonel has had all letterscensored, so as to be quite sure no knowledge leaks outside."

  "There you are, you see--absolutely impossible, don't yer know. I shallhave to stay down here for another day to make things look ship-shape,but I really think they'll have to put a more brainy chap on to the casethan yours truly. Eh, what?" Deland gave an inane little giggle, andfixing his monocle turned away, leaving Max Brunel with a frown ofcontempt on his fair, stolid face. He continued on his way toward Mrs.Digby as she stood near the fireplace.

  "The youngsters have been telling me about that painted shrine, Mrs.Digby," he said, twisting his monocle affectedly, and eyeing her withsomething very much akin to admiration, which pleased her immensely."Sort of thing interests me, doncher-know."

  "Indeed? Well, I know little about it myself," she responded with aforced laugh. "Miss Smith will be able to give you the most assistanceas to the legend. She fairly worships at it, and spends all her sparetime painting pictures of it on postcards and sending them to herfriends. Her father was an archeologist, I believe, and it runs in thefamily. If you're interested you should get her to talk on the subject."

  She turned at the moment to speak a word to her son, and Cleek made hisway to the door in the wall in order to join Captain Kenneth in thelaboratory. He found him frowning over test-tubes, Bunsen burners, andretorts. Also he was not alone. Brunel was with him, and at the look ofconcentrated interest upon Brunel's face, Cleek's own took on a peculiarexpression.

  His entrance caused the two young men to look up, and they came forwardto him, as if eager to help him in some way.

  "Going to poke about a bit if you don't mind," he said, smiling, andproceeded to put the words into immediate action. He searched, hesniffed--much to their secret amusement--and he took measurements aswould a furniture man preparing to lay a carpet. Finally he climbed upinto the loft where stood the generator and dynamo which suppliedelectric current for the laboratory. There was clearly nothing to belearned there, and as he descended, plainly irritated by his failure, hefound young Digby standing alone in the centre of the room, his handpressed to his forehead.

  "Got a rotten headache," he explained to Cleek's unspoken inquiry."Can't think what's caused it, either, unless it's the gas, and----"

  "Gas!" exclaimed
Cleek, suddenly. "How's that? I thought you usedelectricity for lighting?"

  "So we do, but I made some nitrous oxide yesterday--one of the kids hadtoothache, and I pulled out the molar. Came like lightning, too, butthat little fool of a governess fainted just as I was going toadminister the gas--you learn to do a lot of things shut off in thecountry, you know, sir. So I had to make some more of the stuff. Itescaped, no doubt, and that's what's given me this beastly head."

  "Very probably." Cleek's detached air seemed to dismiss the affair. Hiseyes were fixed upon one of the Bunsen burners beneath which stood aretort labelled plainly enough, "Nitrous Oxide." Casually he picked up astrand of hair and seemed to cast it away, absent-mindedly. Suddenly heswitched round upon his heel.

  "Did you have that headache last night?" he asked, his hand resting fora moment upon the retort.

  "No, I didn't notice it, but I was so dead beat that I simply flungmyself down and slept like a log."

  "H'm," Cleek said, thoughtfully. "Well, Captain, there is very little tobe gained here. Still, I should like to go through some of the rooms ofthe house myself, if you've no objection."

  "Why, of course not. Do as you please. But it's no use suspecting theservants because they couldn't get past the guard, and----"

  "I suppose not. But I'll have a talk with that guard, too, if you don'tmind. It's as well to take all precautions."

  "By all means."

  Cleek followed the Captain out of the room and into the drawing-room,now empty save for the guard in question, a big man in soldier's uniformwho saluted as they came up to him.

  The Captain spoke first:

  "Marshall, this gentleman would like to know if any one came in herelast night," he said, quietly. "Speak out."

  "No, sir." The man's voice was rough and emphatic. "Only yourself--andthat but for a moment."

  "_Myself?_" Captain Digby's voice registered utter amazement. "You'redreaming, man. I was never down here last night, I'll swear----"

  "Beggin' yer pardon, but yer were, sir," responded Marshall, stoutly."You just switched on your torch, saying you'd forgotten something, andwas in and out before you could say Jack Robinson. You've 'ad so much onyour 'ands, sir, it's no wonder you forget. Nothin' wrong, is there?"

  Cleek's quick voice interposed before the Captain had time to reply, buthis dazed, blank face answered for him.

  "No, Marshall, there's nothing wrong at all. Everything, in fact, isquite in order. The Captain forgot, I expect. That's all I wanted to askyou. Better come along upstairs, Digby. I'd like to have a word withyour father when I come down, but if you'll be good enough to show methe way upstairs now----"

  The dazed look was still upon the Captain's face as he led Cleekupstairs, and at sight of it that gentleman gave vent to a low, amusedlaugh.

  "Don't worry, Captain," he said, softly. "Keep quiet and don't getdisturbed about it. Every cloud has a silver lining, you know, and I'vean idea that this one has a touch of gold in it."

  He said no more, and the two went from room to room, through bedroom andbathroom, nursery and servants' quarters, until at last Cleek expressedhimself satisfied, and consented to join Colonel Digby in the library.

  They found him engaged in looking over the letters which were to go bythat night's post.

  "Not a very big 'bag' this evening," he said, smiling up into his son'spale face. "We confine ourselves mostly to postcards--they're easier tocensor."

  "Can't put much on them certainly, especially the picture ones,"remarked Cleek with some amusement. "That's a pretty thing you've got inyour hand there, Colonel. The celebrated shrine, isn't it?"

  "Yes." Colonel Digby handed it across with a kindly smile. "Another ofpoor little Miss Smith's attempts. She's always painting the thing, andI should think the little brother to whom she sends them must know itoff by heart. He's a cripple, I believe, and very much devoted to hissister. Anyhow, she sends him dozens of these cards. Nothing from youto-night, Kenneth?"

  "No, Dad. I haven't felt up to writing," responded the Captain,gloomily.

  Meanwhile, Cleek's eyes were dwelling upon the crudely painted littlepicture of the shrine. It was finished with a conventional hexagonalborder, obviously imitated from some old illuminated missal.

  Suddenly he turned about and ejaculated with some show of excitement: "Imust be right. The Benzene Ring, of course. I might have known. Onlygive me till to-morrow at three o'clock, Colonel, and if I'm right yourson's honour is as safe as the Bank of England. I'll be off at once.I'll take the motor which carries the postbag, if you don't mind.There's no use in wasting fuel these days. Three o'clock to-morrow willfind me back again, never fear. Until then, good-night."

  He caught up his hat from the table where it had lain since he enteredthe house, dashed to the door, flashed it open, and was gone in thetwinkling of an eyelash. But he left the dawn of hope behind.

  * * * * *

  If punctuality is the virtue which the world paints it, then LieutenantDeland was clearly not gifted with that quality, for on the afternoon ofthe next day the clock on the mantel in the Colonel's library had longago struck three and was creeping steadily on in the direction of four,and still the lieutenant had not as yet appeared.

  The Colonel's usually grave face was grim, and the light of that suddenhope which had made the night so sweet was slowly but gradually dyingout of his eyes. His son could not rest a moment, and seemed unable todo anything but pace up and down the long room. Of a sudden came thesound of wheels on the gravel of the drive beneath their window. Bothmen looked eagerly toward the doorway, where there soon appeared aservant with the announcement that they were needed in the drawing-room.

  "Thank God!" said young Digby with a sigh of relief. "The beggar's comeat last, has he? All right, Blake, we're coming along at once."

  But their hopes were doomed to disappointment for it was not the dapperlieutenant who awaited them, but Mr. Narkom, beaming genially upon themfrom the chair where he was seated near Mrs. Digby.

  "I am sorry you've been kept waiting," he said as he shook hands. "It'sall the fault of that idiot Deland. He couldn't make head or tail of thebusiness so I took him off and put a new man on to the job--Mr. GeorgeHeadland. I expect him down by the next train, and I thought if I couldwait here----"

  "Why, of course, Mr. Narkom," was the reply. "I didn't expect he wouldor could discover any solution; it's beyond everybody----"

  "We'll give you some tea, Mr. Narkom," gushed Mrs. Digby. "Perhaps yournew man will be as amusing as the lieutenant--such a nice boy."

  So that was how, when at 4:30 the door opened to admit another arrival,Miss Smith, the children, and all the family were gathered around thetea table. It was, however, Lieutenant Deland who appeared and not thesuccessor the Superintendent had announced.

  "Headland couldn't come, Mr. Narkom, so I thought I'd come down and tellyou that I was right," that gentleman remarked, casually.

  "Good," exclaimed the Superintendent, his face beaming with excitement."And did you bring the warrant with you?"

  "Yes, I----"

  "Warrant?" The word was echoed from various pairs of lips, in varyingtones of surprise.

  "Yes, my friends, the warrant. A traitor in a family is not a pleasantthought," said Cleek in clear, ringing tones, at the sound of which theColonel and his son started in amazement. "What's that? No, Mr. Wertz,leave that door alone, no one goes out from here now--not even thekiddies. They must put up with it; we can't afford any risks. PerhapsMiss Smith would not mind giving them these pictures to look at todivert their attention."

  "Certainly, sir." The timid little black-robed figure advanced, whileCleek gave a watchful glance toward the corner where Mr. Max Brunel waswatching him as if fascinated.

  "That's right," he said, producing a big package of pictures, addinglaughingly, "you'll want both hands." As she extended them he snappedout: "And so shall I, Fraulein Schmidt. Quick, Narkom, the handcuffs--inmy pocket. No, you don't, you she-cat. I've got you.
Never again willyou betray the country that has shielded and paid you. No more paintedpicture postcards. You see, I smelt the trick--and smelt the gas, too."

  Not without considerable difficulty and more than considerable noise Mr.Narkom and his ally overcame the struggling little figure, and beforethe children had realized what had happened, their governess wasescorted from the room by two stalwart policemen. Then they themselveswere hustled from the room, as dazed at the occurrence as their elders.

  "Sorry to seem to accuse you, Mr. Wertz," said Cleek. "But I was afraidshe would recognize Hamilton Cleek even as I recognized her. Then thefat would have been in the fire with a vengeance!"

  "Cleek!" came in varying tones of amazement from the group around him."_Cleek!_"

  "Yes--just Cleek of Scotland Yard. And perhaps it was as well that Icame when I did, for Captain Kenneth might not have awakened from thenext sleep he took, and---- What's that, Colonel? An explanation? Oh,certainly. That's very simple.

  "In the first place, I discovered that your laboratory was, as you hadsaid, absolutely proof against all outside observation. Clearly, also,there was only one means of entry and that by the simple method of thedoor. Here I must admit I was puzzled for a while, until I heard throughyour son of the nitrous oxide and found a strand of blonde hair caughtin that Bunsen burner. That explained everything--your headache,Captain, and the second visit of which you knew nothing. Yourtooth-pulling operation gave my lady her chance. Probably she had beenprovided with tubes of that gas, for all her painting tubes smelt of it.Anyhow, I take it that she secured your tube while pretending to faint.After she had succeeded in sending you to sleep, she dressed herself inyour clothes, and went downstairs--it was easy enough in the dim light."

  "What's that? She spoke to Marshall, you say? Oh, yes, I remember thatquite clearly. But you must remember that I recognized Elsa Schmidt fromthe first, and knew her to be a male impersonator of no mean order. Sheused to be a shining star among the Apaches of Montmartre--but that'sanother story. Anyhow, having secured the formula, she burnt itand----"

  "Burnt it?" exclaimed Captain Digby.

  "Yes, burnt it. The ashes were beside the Bunsen burner as you will seefor yourself next time you enter the laboratory. Then all she had to dowas to come back and send a picture postcard to her brother Johann, oneof the cleverest spies in Europe. By the way, Colonel, he is no more acripple than I am!"

  Everyone in the room by this time was looking at Cleek in utteramazement.

  "Picture postcards you said, Mr. Cleek?" broke in the Colonel, suddenly."Not those silly little painted things with the fancy borders?"

  "The very same. And each time they passed through your hands for thepostbag, your son's formula passed, too. But that was not your fault. Itwas simply a matter of that conventional border she was so fond ofpainting. Look at this one." He drew one from his pocket. "Evidently inthis formula you used a combination of that mobile and highlyinflammable liquid known as benzene chemically expressed as C6 H6. Nowgive a glance at this postcard. You will see that it is bordered withmultiples of that Benzene Ring, and the dot and dash message underneathgives the exact proportions. All that the lady had to do was to paint adifferent border round her picture of that shrine and the thing wasdone.

  "What's that, Mr. Narkom? How did I guess? Well, first of all, her faceseemed familiar--though her hair had taken upon itself another colour.However, the strand of gold-dyed hair told me the truth of mysuspicions. Secondly, when the children showed me the large quantity andsize of these painting tubes, and when I saw the card when the Colonelput it into the postbag yesterday--well, I simply used my brains, andthe rest was easy."

  He stopped speaking for a moment and smiled into young Digby's face,stretching out his hand.

  "Well," he resumed, "here's luck to your next formula, Captain. And atthe same time, here's luck to London as well. For we shan't be havingany more of our parks destroyed and our kiddies mutilated for thepride of a lustful nation. Johann was clever enough with hisexperiments--though God alone knows to what a pitch he might havecarried them. But I happened to be up on the outer edge of TottingCommon when the centre of it blew up yesterday, with hardly a puff ofsmoke, either. But when it comes to using innocent human life as an_experiment_--_well_, it's beyond the conception of the average man!...Mr. Narkom, whenever you're ready we'll be making tracks. I've anappointment this evening and I'm afraid I shall miss it if we don'thurry. Good-bye, Mrs. Digby. Good-bye, Colonel--and you, too, Captain.Good-bye, all of you."

  His hand went out and clasped each hand extended toward him. As MaxBrunel's hand met his, he paused a moment.

  "If you take my advice, my friend," he said, softly, "you'll never letyoung Kenneth know of your suspicions of him. I saw it all. I knew, eventhough you would have shielded him with your own life. But friendshipand suspicion can never be in union. Take it from one who knows."