noying."

"Was it?" Phillips asked. "Well, I confess I didn't find it so.
Yesterday at the time of the three o'clock race I was at the Post Club,
and, singular to say, we had the same blinding snowstorm in Covent
Garden. Now it surprises you, but from your point of view and mine that
snowstorm was the most fortunate thing that could have happened. When I
sat smoking my cigar in the Post Club there came to me the inspiration
of a lifetime. I seemed to see in a flash exactly what had happened, and
soon I shall know to a dead certainty. You must restrain your curiosity
for a little longer. You will probably know all about it before you go
to bed. Try one of these cigars. They are excellent."

Fielden had hardly got his cigar aglow before the landlady came in with
a telegram, which Phillips opened eagerly. There was a smile of triumph
on his face as he handed it to Fielden.

"What do you make of that?" he asked.

"I can make nothing of it," Fielden said. "It is a wire to the effect
that no important wager was made this afternoon on the three o'clock
race at the Post Club, and is signed Carden. I presume that is our stout
friend with the florid face and ingratiating manner, who was talking to
you this afternoon. But how it helps us I haven't the ghost of an idea."

Phillips rose and threw his cigar in the fire.

"Come," he said. "It is time to start. You haven't much longer to
wait."

CHAPTER XIX

THE EMPTY HOUSE

There was just enough moonlight for Phillips' purpose, but not enough to
render his task dangerous. Fielden asked no questions, partly because he
deemed it would be useless, and partly because he did not wish to spoil
what appeared to have in it the making of a dramatic adventure. His
spirits were rising, and he was looking forward keenly to something in
the way of enterprise. He and Phillips had been in more than one tight
place together, and he had every confidence in his companion.

They made their way along the main street in silence, and came presently
to the deserted racecourse. There was very little evidence of the
afternoon's sport, nothing but a few partially dismantled tents and
booths, and the extraordinary remnants of reeking humanity that always
haunt a race meeting.

They went across the heath, and by and by Phillips pulled up in front of
the avenue to The Nook.

"This is the place," he said quietly.

"Oh, is it?" Fielden asked. "Perhaps you had better tell me before we go
far