e and head
were covered with rubber, two green staring eyes surveyed her, and a
great snout-like nose was uplifted as in amazement. She was paralysed
for a moment. For the beastliness of the figure was appalling.

Then realizing that it was merely a man whose face was hidden by a
hideous mask, she sprang again for the door, but a hand gripped her arm
and pulled her back. She heard a cheerful whistle from the road without
and remembering the package in her hand she flung it high over the wall
and heard its soft thud, and the whistle stop.

Then as the hideous figure slipped his arm about her and pressed a musty
hand over her mouth she fainted.

CHAPTER XIV

MR. BEALE SUGGESTS MARRIAGE

"Held up by a gunman?" asked James Kitson incredulously, "why, what do
you mean?"

"It doesn't sound right, does it?" smiled Beale, "especially after
McNorton telling us the other day that there was no such thing as a
gunman in England. Do you remember his long dissertation on the
law-abiding criminals of this little old country?" he laughed.

"But a gunman," protested Mr. Kitson--"by the way, have you had
breakfast?"

"Hours ago," replied Beale, "but don't let me interrupt you."

Mr. James Kitson pulled his chair to the table and unfolded his napkin.
It was almost at this hour that Oliva Cresswell had performed a similar
act.

"You are not interrupting me," said Kitson, "go on."

Beale was frowning down at deserted Piccadilly which Mr. Kitson's
palatial suite at the Ritz-Carlton overlooked.

"Eh?" he said absently, "oh yes, the gunman--a sure enough gunman."

He related in a few words his experience of the previous night.

"This man Homo," said Kitson, "is he one of the gang?"

Beale shook his head.

"I don't think so. He may be one of van Heerden's ambassadors."

"Ambassadors?"

"I will explain van Heerden's game one of these days and you will
understand what I mean," said Beale. "No, I don't think that Parson Homo
is being any more than a gentle knight succouring a distressed lady,
whether for love of the lady, out of respect for the professor or from a
general sense of antagonism to all detectives, I can only speculate.
Anyway, he held me until the lady was out of hearing and presumably out
of sight. And then there was no need for me to go. I just sat down and
talked, and a more amiable and cultured gentleman it would be impossible
to meet."

Kitson looked at his companion through narrowed lids.

"Why