Anglo-Indian colonels and majors lived here, and one knew their houses
by such names as "Lucknow," "Cawnpore," etc., just as one knows azaleas
by their blossoms. Jones, like an animal making for cover, pushed on
till he reached a street of shops. A long, long street, running north
and south with the shop fronts on the eastern side, sun-blinded and
sunlit. A peep of blue and perfect sea shewed at the end of the street,
and on the sea the white sail of a boat. Sandbourne-on-Sea is a pleasant
place to stay at, but Jones did not want to stay there.

His mind was working feverishly. There was sure to be a railway station
somewhere, and, as surely, the railway station would be the first place
they would hunt for him.

London was his objective. London and the National Provincial Bank, but
of the direction or the distance to be travelled, he knew no more than
the man in the moon.

CHAPTER XXIV

HE RUNS TO EARTH

As the fox seeks an earth, he was seeking for a hole to hide in. Across
the road a narrow house, set between a fishmonger's shop and a sea-side
library, displayed in one of its lower windows a card with the word
"Apartments." Jones crossed the road to this house and knocked at the
hall door. He waited a minute and a half, ninety seconds, and every
second a framed vision of Hoover in pursuit, Hoover and his assistants
streaming like hounds on a hot scent. Then he found a decrepit bell and
pulled it.

Almost on the pull the door opened, disclosing a bustless, sharp-eyed
and cheerful-looking little woman of fifty or so, wearing a cameo brooch
and cornelian rings. She wore other things but you did not notice them.

"Have you rooms to let?" asked Jones.

"Well, sir, I have the front parlour unoccupied," replied the landlady,
"and two bed-rooms on the top floor. Are there any children?"

"No," said Jones. "I came down here alone for a holiday. May I see the
rooms?"

She took him to the top front bed-room first. It was clean and tidy, just
like herself, and gave a cheery view of the shop fronts on the opposite
side of the street.

Jones, looking out of the window, saw something that held him for a
moment fascinated and forgetful of his surroundings and his companion.
Hoover, no less, walking hurriedly and accompanied by a man who looked
like a gardener. They were passing towards the sea, looking about them
as they went. Hoover had the appearance of a person who has lost a purse
or some article of value,