t he was travelling "all out" along the
Much Wenlock road.

"That's Ramblethorne!" exclaimed Ross excitedly.

"Botheration take him!" ejaculated Ferret. "Are we to get no rest
to-night?"

He opened the window in front of him. Hawke was sitting with the
chauffeur. Quickly the detectives arrived at their decision.

"After that chap!" exclaimed Hawke, addressing the chauffeur; "that
motor-cyclist who has just passed. Ten pounds if you overhaul and stop
him."

It was the bright moonlight that had tempted Ramblethorne to go for a
midnight ride. He was a keen out-of-door man. He could handle almost
any make of car or motor-cycle with the utmost skill. Finding himself
at Shrewsbury, he hired a motor-cycle from an agent, intending to have
a run along the road following the banks of the Severn as far as
Ironbridge. It was his practice, whenever in a strange place, speedily
to become conversant with the locality. It was, in fact, part of his
training as a spy.

Ramblethorne was somewhat taken aback when he saw Ross's face in the
moonlight, although he betrayed no sign of surprise. In an instant he
realized that, by some means, young Trefusis had escaped from U75;
more, he was with a party of men evidently hard on his track.

Quickly he made up his mind. His career as a medical officer to the
British Service was ended. He could no longer hope to serve the German
Government in that direction. Before morning a hue and cry would be
raised.

As he swung along the broad, level road he thought out his plans. He
would ride as hard as he could until his supply of petrol gave out--a
matter of about seventy or eighty miles. Then he would abandon and
hide the motor-cycle, and make his way on foot to the Essex coast.
There, he had means to get on board a nominally British fishing-boat,
which would run him over to a Dutch port.

Although the motor-cycle was travelling at close on forty miles an
hour, Ramblethorne glanced back over his shoulder. He hardly expected
to be pursued. If the car had turned to attempt to overhaul him, it
would almost to a certainty take the wider of the two fork roads--that
leading to Wellington.

Disagreeably surprised, the spy saw the two powerful head-lights of the
car less than a mile behind him.

The chauffeur of the pursuing vehicle had set his heart on winning the
promised guerdon. "All out" the car bounded along the road, leaving in
its trail a dense cloud of dust that slowly d