hoe Lane did not really
employ that suitable medium.

'Horrible Discovery near Roding.'

At once the truth flashed across me. The _Morning Post_ had not
contained the intelligence because,

The Government had Boycotted the 'Morning Post'!

Only journals which more or less supported the Government were permitted
to obtain 'copy' of such thrilling interest!

And yet they speak of a free press and a free country!

Tearing myself away from these reflections, I bent my mind on the awful
paragraph.

'The melting of the snow has thrown a lurid light on the mysterious
disappearance (which up to this moment had attracted no attention) of an
eccentric baronet, well known in sporting circles. Yesterday afternoon a
gentleman's groom, wading down the highway, discovered the white hat
of a gentleman floating on the muddy stream into which the unparalleled
weather and the negligence of the Road Trustees has converted our
thoroughfare. An inscription in red ink within the lining leaves no
doubt that this article of dress is all that is left of the late Sir
Runan Errand. The unfortunate nobleman's friends have been communicated
with. The active and intelligent representative of the local police
believes that he is in possession of a clue to the author of the crime.
Probably the body of the murdered noble has been carried down by the
flooded road to the sea.'

I tore that paper to pieces, and used it to wrap up sandwiches for the
journey.

Once again I say, if you cannot feel with me, throw this tale aside.
Heaven knows it is a sombre one, and it goes on getting sombrer and
sombrer! But probably, by this time, you have either tossed the work
away or looked at the end to see what happened to them all.

The morning dawned.

I filled my bag with Hanover pieces, which I thought might come in handy
on the Spanish Turf, and packed up three or four yellow, red, green, and
blue opera hats, so useful to the adventurous bookmaker.

At this very moment the postman arrived and gave me a letter in a
woman's hand.

I thrust it in my breast pocket recklessly.

The cab rattled away.

At last we were off.

I am sure that no one who could have seen us that morning would have
dreamt that out of that party of three--a more than comfortable-looking
English matron, a girl whose strange beauty has been sufficiently dwelt
upon, and a gentleman in a yellow crush hat and a bookmaker's bag--two
were flying from the hands of justice.

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