ire the trick of that heavenly 'jab with the
left' that way. I haven't had such a beautiful time since the day
I was twenty-one, darling; he fights like a blooming _angel_, that
chap."

"What chap? What on earth are you talking about?"

"That man Cleek. Weeping Widows! It was the prettiest job you ever
saw. We're sending the beggar over to the hospital--and----Tell you
all about it when I get back. Can't stop just now, dear. Bye, bye!"

Then the door closed with a smack, and man and cheque book were on
their way downstairs.

CHAPTER XV

It is a recognized fact in police circles that crime has a curious
propensity for indulging in periodical outbursts of great energy,
great fecundity, and then lapsing into a more or less sporadic
condition for a time--like a gorged tiger that drowses, and stirs
only to lick its chops after a hideous feast. So that following the
lines of these fixed principles the recent spell of criminal activity
was succeeded by a sort of lull, and the next two weeks were idle
ones for Cleek.

Idle but idyllic--from his point of view; for he was back in the
little house in the pleasant country lands now, with his walled
garden, his ferns and his flowers, and the full glory of tulip-time
was here.

And soon another "glory" would be here as well.

In twelve more days _she_ would be back in England. In twelve more
days he and Dollops would move out, and Ailsa Lorne would move in,
and this little Eden in the green and fragrant meadowlands would have
another tenant from that time forth.

But hers would not be a lonely tenancy, however; for "Captain
Horatio Burdage" had recently written to Mrs. Condiment that, as the
Sleeping Mermaid seemed likely to prove an unprofitable investment
after all and to bring her little reward for her labours, he purposed
relinquishing it and recalling "Old Joseph" to him; and with that
end in view had already secured for the good lady a position as
companion-housekeeper to one Miss Ailsa Lorne, who, in the early
part of June, would call upon her at her present quarters and
personally conduct her and the deaf-and-dumb maid-of-all-work to
their future ones.

Here, then, in this bower of bloom, would this dear girl of his
heart await the coming of that glorious day when the last act of
restitution had been made, the last Vanishing Cracksman debt wiped
off the slate, and he could go to her--clean-handed at last--to
ask the fulfilment of her promise.

Remembe