ed
upon the table.

An uncomfortable pause was broken by the entrance of a constable with a
card.

"Gentleman wishes to know if Mr. Richard Bellamy is here," he said to
the superintendent.

But Dick did not move.

His brother bent over him.

"The boy's fast asleep," he said.

Finucane passed the card to Randal.

"'George Bruffin,'" he read out. "Better ask him up, superintendent, if
you don't mind."

Sir Gregory had been feeling himself pushed aside. He had taken the sow,
it seemed, by the wrong ear. And now, the great Bruffin and his
millions!

George came in, ponderous and unsmiling; picked out the superintendent
at once, and thanked him gruffly for admission to the "sanctum"; a word
which George chose to please him--and succeeded.

Sir Gregory pressing himself forward, Finucane was obliged to mumble an
introduction.

George replied vaguely, saying, "Oh, ah--yes, of course!"

And then, his eye falling on Randal, he came alive.

"You're Dick's big brother," he said.

"I can't help that," responded Randal, holding out his hand.

"Some people do have all the luck," said George. Then, looking down at
the sleeper, he continued: "My car's outside. My wife's waiting till I
bring him. You'd better come with us, Sir Randal, and help us tuck him
up in bed."

Sir Gregory tried again.

"Game to the last!" he said, joining the group; "but not, I suppose,
very robust. Evidently a case of complete nervous exhaustion."

Caldegard had spoken little since Dick's entrance. He now rose as if
shot from his chair by a spring, and spoke with a vigour that reminded
Randal of their youth.

"Five hundred miles--driving your own car in the dark! Climb the side of
a house. Break in--save one woman from being knifed by another. Fight
five armed men with your fists and boots. Knock out four of them. Run a
mile, dragging a girl--from a man chasing you, and shooting at you with
a revolver. Kill a murderer with a murderess's dagger. Nurse a girl with
an attack of hysteria. Drive a coach, humbug a woman, a parson, a
railway porter, a guard and a station-master. Kill a man armed with that
steel-clawed thing there, steal a car, knock a man off a train, and
bring home the exhausted woman alive and your chief enemy drunk and a
prisoner--do all that without sleep for thirty-six hours, Sir Gregory;
then, if you can drop off to sleep like that, instead of having your
head packed in ice and babbling pink spiders and blue monkeys, yo