of the tail of
his eye and simultaneously his motor cycle seemed to leap forward with
a noisy roar. The bullet had struck the exhaust pipe cutting it clear
of the silencer and making him a gift of five miles an hour. A new
life seemed to run through the veins of the machine and the hill
flattened out before him like a level track. As he realised the
charity of Fate, Barraclough lifted a gladsome "Yoicks" and waved his
right arm above his head. Again the pistol cracked and a red hot
knitting needle seemed to pass through the palm of his hand. As he
brought it back to the handle bar he saw a pale blue circle between his
first and second finger bubble into scarlet and black.

"You scum, you dirty scum," he cried, "but it'll take more than a
bullet through the hand to bring down my flag."

He jerked the gear lever back into top and shot full bore at the down
grade before him. As the Ford car breasted the top of the hill its
passengers were rewarded by the sight of a tiny speck of dust tearing
along a ribbon of white in the valley below.

CHAPTER 24.

RIVAL FACTIONS.

Everyone agreed it was a difficult morning on the Stock Exchange,
although for that matter a great many mornings during the past three
weeks had been the same. The bottom had fallen out of innumerable
cans. Persons with scarlet or greenish white faces were waving their
hands and calling on the Deity to explain the collapse of cast iron
securities. If there had been a threat of war things could hardly have
been worse. The worst of it was that none of the big sellers seemed
disposed to give their reasons for unloading. Mr. Hilbert Torrington,
when asked why he had sold huge quantities of oil shares, courteously
replied to all and various that he had no observations to make. The
oil market, particularly that controlled by Hugo Van Diest, had slumped
fifteen points in three days and the others had fallen sympathetically.
And now, as though the oil collapse were not enough, appeared Ezra P.
Hipps unloading Estuary Rails at a price that would hardly pay for
printing the scrip. Ten days earlier the Estuary had looked like a
cinch and Nugent Cassis, who had a reputation for sanity, had been
buying it by the yard. Here was stock at nineteen shillings being
offered at fivepence, and no rush to take it up even at that price.
Everyone knew that Hipps was the moving spirit in the Estuary. His
holdings were enormous.

"In Heaven's name, man, wha