steadily falling rain across Hampstead Heath, on our hundred-mile
journey into Lincolnshire.

We both knew every inch of the road, having been over it many times.
As it was wet, police-traps were unlikely, so, having negotiated the
narrow road as far as Hatfield, we began to "let her out" past
Hitchin, and we buzzed on over the broad open road through Stilton
village. We were hung up at the level-crossing at Wansford, but about
half-past three in the afternoon we swept over the brow of the hill
beneath the high wall of Burghley Park, and saw beneath us the roofs
and many spires of quiet old Stamford.

Ten minutes later we swung into the yard of the ancient George, and,
alighting, entered the broad hall, with its splendid old oak
staircase, in search of the manageress.

She related a rather curious story.

On the previous night, about eleven o'clock, there arrived by car two
well-dressed gentlemen who, though English, conversed together in
French. They took rooms, but did not retire to bed, saying that they
expected two friends who were motoring, and who would arrive in the
night. They sat over the fire in the lounge, while the staff of the
hotel all retired, save the night-boots, an old retainer. The latter
stated that during the night, as he passed the door of the lounge, he
saw through the crack of the door the younger of the two men examining
something which shone and sparkled in the light, and he thought to be
diamonds. This struck him as somewhat curious; therefore he kept a
watchful eye upon the pair.

One he described as rather stout, dark, and bald-headed--the exact
description of Pennington--and the other description the man
afterwards gave to me caused me to feel confident that the second man
was none other than the scoundrel Reckitt. What further piece of
chicanery had they been guilty of, I wondered?

"About four in the morning a grey car drove up, sir," went on the
boots, "and a lady with a dark cloak over her evening dress dashed in,
and they both rose quickly and welcomed her. Then, in order that I
should not understand, they again started talking in some foreign
language--French I expect it was. A few moments later the gentleman
came in. They welcomed him warmly, addressing him by the name of
Lewis. I saw the bald-headed man wring his hand heartily, and heard
him exclaim: 'By Jove! old man, you can't think how glad we are to see
you back again! You must have had a narrow squeak! Not another singl