vincing Clive immensely more easy.

What he had wished to say had now at least a certainty of being listened
to, a probability of being believed, and there was at any rate, he
supposed, no longer the danger he had before dreaded of Clive's going
straight with the whole story to Deede Dawson in arrogant disbelief of a
word of it.

But he still distrusted Clive's discretion, and feared some rash and
hasty action that might ruin all his plans, and allow Deede Dawson time
to escape.

Besides he felt that the immediate task before him was to find out who
Deede Dawson's new companion was, and, if possible, overhear anything
they might have to say to each other.

That, and the discovery of the new-comer's identity, might prove to be
of the utmost importance.

"I can't explain now," he said hurriedly. "I'll see you tomorrow
sometime. Don't do anything till you hear from me. Your life may depend
on it--and other people's lives that matter more."

"Tell me who you are first," Clive said quickly, incautiously raising
his voice. "I can manage to take care of myself all right, I think, but
I want to know who you are."

"H-ssh!" muttered Dunn. "Not so loud."

"There was a fellow made an attack on me one night a little while ago,"
Clive went on unheedingly. "You remind me of him somehow. I don't think
I trust you, my man. I think you had better come along to the police
with me."

But Dunn's sharp ears had caught the sound of the house door opening
cautiously, and he guessed that Deede Dawson had taken the alarm and
was creeping out to see who invaded so late at night the privacy of his
garden.

"Clear out quick! Quiet! If you want to go on living. I'll stop them
from following if I can. If you make the least noise you're done for."

Most likely the man they had seen in his company would be with him, and
both of them would be armed. Neither Clive nor Dunn had a weapon, and
Dunn saw the danger of the position and took the only course available.

"Go," he whispered fiercely into Clive's ear.

CHAPTER XV. THE SOUND OF A SHOT

He melted away into the darkness as he spoke, and through the night he
slipped, one shadow more amongst many, from tree to bush, from bush to
tree. Across a patch of open grass he crawled on his hands and knees;
and once lay flat on his face when against the skyline he saw a figure
he was sure was Deede Dawson's creep by a yard or two on his right hand.

On his left another shadow showed, dis