out speaking.

"How's the young woman?" he asked. "She looked about done in."

"She's had a bath. Suzanne's done her hair. She's in bed, so sleepy that
I left Suzanne with her to keep her from spilling her bouillon and toast
before she's finished it. Oh, George, she's a ripper--perfectly lovely,
without all those horrid clothes."

George took his cigar from his mouth.

"I shouldn't wonder," he said.

Lady Elizabeth ignored the interruption.

"And I _believe_ she's Dick's," she went on. "Who is this Professor
Caldegard?"

"Scientific--coal-tar--big bug of the first magnitude," answered
Bruffin. "Some day he'll synthesize albumen, and then all the farmers'll
go into the workhouse."

"But are they--what sort of people are they? It's _Dick_, George."

"You've seen the girl, Betsy."

"Yes," admitted Lady Elizabeth.

"And when you catch Dick Bellamy making a break over a man, a horse, a
dog or a woman, Bet, p'r'aps you'll let me know."

Lady Elizabeth sighed contentedly, as if he had removed the last doubt
from a happy mind.

"That's quite true," she said. Then she looked round the room. "Is he in
your bath-room, or in bed, or where? You oughtn't to leave him alone."

"He's left me," replied George. "Wouldn't stay a moment after he knew
Miss Caldegard was in your clutches. He's gone off with his intoxicated
captive. He's made a conquest of Charles by pitching him out of the
house, and the taxi-man would help him do murders."

"Is he coming back to bed here?"

"Didn't ask."

"Oh, George, why not?"

"He'll come if he wants to."

"Didn't he tell you where he was taking his prisoner?"

"Only said, 'Must get a move on. Got a man to be hanged,' and went."

"Then it's Scotland Yard," said Lady Elizabeth.

"I don't think that's where they turn 'em off, Betsy, but perhaps you
know best."

"I do, this time. Have a car out at once and drive there. Somebody's got
to look after him. And, if you get on the track of the father, tell him
about Amaryllis----"

"Amaryllis!" echoed George, reflectively weighing the word.

"And bring him along too, if he wants to have just a peep at her."

George nodded and rang the bell.

CHAPTER XXV.

WAITERS.

Dick Bellamy's two letters, the one posted in York, the other in the
country letter-box by the landlord of "The Coach and Horses," had been
read at New Scotland Yard at about eight o'clock in the evening.

The first note had contained merely the informatio