. He walked up to the King's Arms and glanced through the
windows of the dining-room, which looked directly upon the street. He
had been right in his surmise. Chard was dining with Nixon and
Smith-Aitken. Apparently he was making the best of it: they seemed to
be a happy party and passed bottles with conviction.

Martin brought the news to Lawrence: "We simply must get hold of him,"
he said. "It would be the deed of a lifetime."

"That's all very well," said Lawrence. "But what the devil can we do?
We can't just go in and knock out our Bullingdon friends. We'd have
the manager and the police nosing round and we'd never get away in
time."

"We can't do that," Martin agreed. "And we can't afford to wait. It's
nearly eight and we must be back by nine. What do people do in cinema
dramas?"

"I know," Lawrence almost shouted. "Don't you remember 'Lust or Love?'
and how they rescued the white slave. The drama has its uses."

Martin remembered. "We might try," he said.

They entered the hotel and looked into the smoking-room. It was dark
and empty. They collected all the old newspapers, took the wood from
the unlit fire, and in the grate they heaped a monstrous pile. After
blocking up the chimney they lit their bonfire. Smoke belched out into
the room in dense, curling waves. When they could endure it no longer
they opened the door and let the smoke into the passage. Then they
opened the door of the dining-room and shouted from concealment: "Fire!
Help! Fire!"

Smith-Aitken looked round, sniffed, and listened. There was an ominous
crackling and an unspeakable smell. "So there is," he said. "I wonder
if it started in the garage. My god." He fled without dignity to his
car. Nixon and Chard went into the passage. The manager, the
housekeeper, the waiter, and three maids were gasping and fussing and
talking about water. There didn't seem to be any.

Suddenly Nixon found himself pushed into the reeking smoking-room and
Chard was hauled swiftly into the square. The turmoil was terrific. A
policeman came and a crowd began to collect.

"You," said Chard, when he saw Martin and Lawrence.

There was no time for talking. Martin pushed Chard into the side-car,
told Lawrence to follow by train, and let the bike do its best. When
they were clear of Abingdon he explained things to the mystified Chard.

It was all so simple, so incredible.

"I never dreamed Smith-A. would try on that game," said Ch