ld efficiency was unimpaired. He practised before a mirror and
was satisfied with his celerity. He loaded a spare magazine, and dropped
it into the capacious pocket of his waistcoat. Then, putting the
remainder of the cartridges away tidily, he closed the box, shut the
drawer and went back to his room. If all the commissioner had hinted
were true, if this mysterious visitor was laying for him because of the
'Snow' Gregory affair, he should have what was coming to him.

The colonel was no coward and if this eerie experience had got a little
on his nerves, it was not to be wondered at. He drew up a chair to the
table, sitting in such a position that he could see the door, took a
pencil and a sheet of paper and began to write rapidly.

The man's knowledge was encyclopaedic. Not once did he pause or refer to
a catalogue, and he was still writing when Crewe came in. The colonel
looked up.

"You're the man I want," he said.

He handed the other three sheets of paper, closely covered with writing.

"What's this?" asked Crewe and read:

"Twenty-three iron bedsteads, twenty-three mattresses, twenty-three----"

"Why, what's all this, colonel?"

"You can go down to Tottenham Court Road and you can order all that
furniture to be taken into No. 3, Washburn Avenue."

"Are you furnishing a children's orphanage or something?" asked the
other in surprise.

"I am furnishing a nursing home, to be exact," said the colonel slowly.
"I bought it this morning, and I'm going to furnish it to-morrow. Send
Lollie Marsh to me. Tell her I want her to get three women of the right
sort to take charge of a mental case which is coming to my nursing home.
By the way, you had better telegraph to old Boyton, or better still, go
in a cab and get him. He'll probably be drunk but he's still on the
medical register and he's the man I want. Take him straight away to
Washburn Avenue, and don't forget that it's his nursing home and not
mine. My name doesn't occur in this matter and you'd better get a dummy
to do the buying for you from the furniture people."

"Who is the mental case?" asked the other.

"Maisie White," snapped the colonel, and Crewe stared.

"Mad?" he said incredulously. "Is Maisie mad?"

"She may not be at present," said Boundary, "but----"

He did not finish his sentence, and Crewe, who was once a gentleman and
was now a thief, swallowed something--but he had swallowed too much to
choke at the threat to a girl in whom he had no