"
flung off his blankets, and bounded to the floor like an acrobat.

Being already in his shirt, short drawers, and stockings, it did not
take quite a minute to don trousers, vest and coat. Another minute
sufficed for the drawing on of boots, fastening a necktie, running a
broken comb through his front locks, and throwing on a glazed hat. Two
minutes all told! Men whose lives often depend on speed acquire a
wonderful power of calmly-rapid action.

"What d'ee say to it, Sam?" asked Tommy as they hurried along the
streets.

"Hold on! avast! belay! I'm thinkin'!" said Sam. The boy accordingly
held on, avasted, and belayed until his companion had thought it out.

"Yes, that's it," said the sailor at last. "I'll go an' see Colonel--
Colonel--what's 'is name? old Liz's friend--Burntwood, is it, or--"

"Brentwood," said Tommy.

"That's it--Brentwood. You don't know his address, do you? No? Never
mind; we'll go to Cherub Court an' get it, and then make sail for the
Colonel's. I've no more notion which way to steer, lad, than the man in
the moon; but the Colonel will be sure to know how to lay our course,
an' he'll be willin', I've no doubt first for his own sake, seein' that
this Lockhart is his own lawyer; second, for old Liz's sake, seein' that
her affairs are involved in it; and third, for the sake of his country,
if he's a good and true man."

The sailor was not disappointed. Colonel Brentwood did not indeed
himself know exactly how to act but he knew that the best thing to do in
the circumstances was to seek aid from those who did know. He therefore
went straight to Scotland Yard--that celebrated centre of the London
Police Force--and put the matter before the authorities there. A
detective, named Dean, was appointed to take the job in hand.

"John," observed Mrs Brentwood to her husband, prophetically, after an
interview with the detective at their own house, "you may depend upon it
that Mr Dean will discover that more things are amiss than this affair
of the Scotsman and dear old nurse."

"Possibly--indeed probably," returned the Colonel; "but what makes you
think so?"

"The fact that no thorough scoundrel ever yet confined himself to one or
two pieces of villainy."

"But Lockhart is not yet proved to be a thorough scoundrel. You have
condemned the poor man, my dear, without trial, and on insufficient
evidence."

"Insufficient evidence!" echoed Dora indignantly. "What more do you
want? Has