ther.

He faced the man opposite, and fairly ground his teeth upon his lower
lip.

"Dash it, Cleek!" he said for the thirty-third time, "I don't know what
to make of it, I don't, indeed! The thing's at a deadlock. Hammond
reports to me this morning that another bank in Hendon--a little
one-horse affair--has been broken into. That makes the third this week,
and as usual every piece of gold is gone. Not a bank note touched, not
a bond even fingered. And the thief--or thieves--made as clean a get-away
as you ever laid your eyes on! I tell you, man, it's enough to send an
average person daft! The whole of Scotland Yard's been on the thing, and
we haven't traced 'em yet! What do you make of it, old chap?"

"As pretty a kettle of fish as I ever came across," responded Cleek, with
an enigmatic smile. "And I can't help having a sneaking admiration for
the person who's engineering the whole thing. How he must laugh at the
state of the old Yard, with never a clue to settle down upon, never a
thread to pick up and unravel! All of which is unbusinesslike of me, I've
no doubt. But, cheer up, man, I've a piece of news which ought to help
matters on a bit. Just came from the War Office, you know."

Mr. Narkom mopped his forehead eagerly. The action was one which Cleek
knew showed that every nerve was tense.

"Well, out with it, old chap! Anything to cast some light on the
inexplicable thing. What did you learn at the War Office?"

"A good many things--after I had unravelled several hundred yards of red
tape to get at 'em," said Cleek, still smiling. "Chief among them was
this: Much English gold has been discovered in Belgium, Mr. Narkom, in
connection with several big electrical firms engaged upon work out there.
The Secret Service wired over that fact, and I got it first hand. Now it
strikes me there must be some connection between the two things. These
bank robberies point in one direction, and that is, that the gold is not
for use in this country. Now let's hear the full account of this latest
outrage. I'm all ears, as the donkey said to the ostrich. Fire away."

Mr. Narkom "fired away" forthwith. He was a bland, round little man,
rather too fat for one's conceptions of what a policeman ought to be, yet
with that lightness of foot that so many stout people seem to possess.

Cleek presented a keen contrast to him. His broad-shouldered,
well-groomed person would have adorned any company. His head was well-set
upon his neck, a