train too."

"What about the car?"

Tommy shook his head.

"Send it up if you like, but we'd better stick to the train. The great
thing is to keep calm."

Julius groaned.

"That's so. But it gets my goat to think of that innocent young girl in
danger!"

Tommy nodded abstractedly. He was thinking. In a moment or two, he said:

"I say, Julius, what do they want her for, anyway?"

"Eh? I don't get you?"

"What I mean is that I don't think it's their game to do her any harm,"
explained Tommy, puckering his brow with the strain of his mental
processes. "She's a hostage, that's what she is. She's in no immediate
danger, because if we tumble on to anything, she'd be damned useful to
them. As long as they've got her, they've got the whip hand of us. See?"

"Sure thing," said Julius thoughtfully. "That's so."

"Besides," added Tommy, as an afterthought, "I've great faith in
Tuppence."

The journey was wearisome, with many stops, and crowded carriages. They
had to change twice, once at Doncaster, once at a small junction. Ebury
was a deserted station with a solitary porter, to whom Tommy addressed
himself:

"Can you tell me the way to the Moat House?"

"The Moat House? It's a tidy step from here. The big house near the sea,
you mean?"

Tommy assented brazenly. After listening to the porter's meticulous
but perplexing directions, they prepared to leave the station. It was
beginning to rain, and they turned up the collars of their coats as they
trudged through the slush of the road. Suddenly Tommy halted.

"Wait a moment." He ran back to the station and tackled the porter anew.

"Look here, do you remember a young lady who arrived by an earlier
train, the 12.50 from London? She'd probably ask you the way to the Moat
House."

He described Tuppence as well as he could, but the porter shook his
head. Several people had arrived by the train in question. He could not
call to mind one young lady in particular. But he was quite certain that
no one had asked him the way to the Moat House.

Tommy rejoined Julius, and explained. Depression was settling on him
like a leaden weight. He felt convinced that their quest was going to
be unsuccessful. The enemy had over three hours' start. Three hours was
more than enough for Mr. Brown. He would not ignore the possibility of
the telegram having been found.

The way seemed endless. Once they took the wrong turning and went nearly
half a mile out of their direction. It was