divisional detective-inspector, who was leaning on a high desk and
chatting with a station-sergeant, sprang forward to greet the suspect.

"They 'phoned through from headquarters for me to meet you here, sir.
There's one or two messages come through for you."

The constable's jaw dropped. "Is this man--this gentleman from the
Yard?" he gasped.

The local man stared from Green to the policeman, and from the policeman
to Green. Some notion of what had happened began to occur to him. "What
the blazes----" he began, but the chief inspector cut him short.

"That's all right," he said. "I was careless enough to come out without
a warrant-card, and this young man has made a little mistake. Don't you
worry about it, my lad. Only, next time, don't put so much zeal into a
doubtful case. Cut along back to your beat and give that chap this."
Some sovereigns chinked. "Now, Mr. Malley, I'll be glad to have those
messages, and to put a call through to Mr. Foyle."

He followed Malley into an inner room, and the local man handed him a
couple of messages which had been telephoned to Scotland Yard by the
county police, and one sent by Foyle immediately after his interview
with Dutch Fred, giving amplified particulars of the car. Green made his
report over the telephone and then, replacing the receiver, turned to
Malley. "This last message shows he's got a good start. He passed
through Haslemere an hour ago. Can you get away yourself, or have you
got a good man you can lend me?"

"That's all arranged, sir," was the answer. "Mr. Foyle said that I was
to go with you if you wanted me."

"Right. We'll have to rake out a good car somewhere. You see to that.
We'll pick up any fresh news at the county police station at Haslemere.
This man may have been stopped by now."

Malley was already speaking into the telephone. He paused for a moment.
"Will a chauffeur be necessary, sir? I could drive if you liked."

"So much the better. Tell 'em to hustle the car along here. It'll be
just as well to have plenty of petrol."

A matter of ten minutes or a quarter of an hour before the motor-car was
at the police station. Malley slipped into the driver's seat, and Green
coiled up his long body by his side. With a jerk they started, and in a
little were out on the broad Portsmouth road, while a thin, penetrating
rain was powdering the windscreen. Presently Malley increased the speed
and, though it was well outside the legal limit, Green made no
rem