itable female relation who might be
represented as being likely to kick the bucket?"

A delighted grin spread slowly over Albert's countenance.

"I'm on, sir. My poor aunt what lives in the country has been mortal bad
for a long time, and she's asking for me with her dying breath."

Tommy nodded approval.

"Can you report this in the proper quarter and meet me at Charing Cross
in an hour's time?"

"I'll be there, sir. You can count on me."

As Tommy had judged, the faithful Albert proved an invaluable ally. The
two took up their quarters at the inn in Gatehouse. To Albert fell the
task of collecting information. There was no difficulty about it.

Astley Priors was the property of a Dr. Adams. The doctor no longer
practiced, had retired, the landlord believed, but he took a few private
patients--here the good fellow tapped his forehead knowingly--"balmy
ones! You understand!" The doctor was a popular figure in the village,
subscribed freely to all the local sports--"a very pleasant, affable
gentleman." Been there long? Oh, a matter of ten years or so--might be
longer. Scientific gentleman, he was. Professors and people often came
down from town to see him. Anyway, it was a gay house, always visitors.

In the face of all this volubility, Tommy felt doubts. Was it possible
that this genial, well-known figure could be in reality a dangerous
criminal? His life seemed so open and aboveboard. No hint of sinister
doings. Suppose it was all a gigantic mistake? Tommy felt a cold chill
at the thought.

Then he remembered the private patients--"balmy ones." He inquired
carefully if there was a young lady amongst them, describing Tuppence.
But nothing much seemed to be known about the patients--they were seldom
seen outside the grounds. A guarded description of Annette also failed
to provoke recognition.

Astley Priors was a pleasant red-brick edifice, surrounded by
well-wooded grounds which effectually shielded the house from
observation from the road.

On the first evening Tommy, accompanied by Albert, explored the grounds.
Owing to Albert's insistence they dragged themselves along painfully on
their stomachs, thereby producing a great deal more noise than if
they had stood upright. In any case, these precautions were totally
unnecessary. The grounds, like those of any other private house after
nightfall, seemed untenanted. Tommy had imagined a possible fierce
watchdog. Albert's fancy ran to a puma, or a tame cobra. B