aged in picking up Mr. Naylor's path. As soon as they were
in the car, these men proceeded to fetter their two prisoners.

Apthorpe Road gasped its astonishment.

In the breakfast-room Malcolm Sage drew a chair up to the man seated on
the bed, seemingly quite unconscious of what was happening. Leaning
forward he lifted one of his eyelids, then turned to the others who
stood round.

"Dope," was all he said.

There was an angry murmur from the others. For a moment Malcolm Sage
sat looking at the wasted form of what once might have been John Dene
of Toronto. Then he turned to Thompson, quite unrecognisable as the
foreman gas-mechanic, whose arm was being bandaged with a
field-dressing.

"Take him in one of the cars to Sir Bryllith Riley, and explain. He's
expecting you. Do exactly as he orders. Take Rogers with you, and
then get your wound seen to."

Sir Bryllith Riley was the great specialist in nervous disorders, who
had made a special study of the drug habit. Without a word Thompson
left the room, followed two of the "workmen," who had raised the
patient to his feet. Then half leading, half carrying they took him
from the room.

The crowd of spectators, which had been considerably reinforced,
received its second thrill that morning at the sight of a short
sturdily built man, apparently drunk, being helped into the second car.
They noticed that he blinked violently in the sunlight, and those who
were near enough saw that his eyes were watering profusely. One or two
of the more observant observed that he stumbled as he entered the taxi,
and would have fallen but for those supporting him. The second car
immediately drove off.

A few minutes later two more men left "The Cedars" and entered the
third car, which with the first then drove off, leaving Mr. Naylor's
residence in the charge of the "survey" men and two of the "workmen."

In the back-garden James was having a meal--it was to be his last.

"I should like a smoke, chief. I left my pipe behind," said one of the
men in the third car, as he took from his pocket a pair of gold-rimmed
spectacles and proceeded to put them on.

"Here, try one of these," and a gold-mounted cigar case was passed
towards him, a case that seemed strangely out of keeping with the
corduroys of the owner.

"Well, it's been a happy day," said Malcolm Sage, as he proceeded to
light the cigar Colonel Walton had given him.

"I hope the other fellows have got their lot," sa