Title: The Motor Pirate
Author: Paternoster, G. Sidney, 1866-
Language: English
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[Illustration: HE HAD INSISTED UPON THE TWO WOMEN DANCING FOR HIS
AMUSEMENT]



THE

MOTOR PIRATE

By

G. Sidney Paternoster


With a Frontispiece by Charles R. Sykes


          New York * * * * *
          A. Wessels Company
          * * * * * *  MCMVI



            _Copyright, 1904_
          BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
             (INCORPORATED)

       *       *       *       *       *

          _All rights reserved_



CONTENTS

  CHAPTER                                                      PAGE
      I. MAINLY ABOUT MYSELF                                      1
     II. THE COMPTON CHAMBERLAIN OUTRAGE                          9
    III. WHEREIN I MEET THE PIRATE                               21
     IV. CONCERNING MY RIVAL                                     36
      V. THE COLONEL DREAMS AND I AWAKEN                         48
     VI. I AM ARRESTED                                           59
    VII. I MAKE FRIENDS WITH INSPECTOR FORREST, C.I.D            71
   VIII. MURDER                                                  81
     IX. EXPLAINS A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE                     92
      X. DESCRIBING A RIDE WITH THE PIRATE                      104
     XI. IN WHICH THE PIRATE HOLDS UP THE BRIGHTON MAIL         113
    XII. HOW WE EXCHANGE SHOTS WITH THE PIRATE                  123
   XIII. OF THE ADVANTAGES OF BEING WOUNDED                     135
    XIV. A CLOUD APPEARS ON LOVE'S HORIZON                      145
     XV. A CLUE AT LAST                                         155
    XVI. I COMMIT A BURGLARY                                    165
   XVII. STORM                                                  176
  XVIII. IN WHICH THE PIRATE APPEARS IN A FROLICSOME HUMOUR     187
    XIX. A HOT SCENT                                            196
     XX. RELATES HOW THE PIRATE HOLDS UP AN AUGUST PERSONAGE    207
    XXI. WE PLAN AN AMBUSH                                      218
   XXII. GONE AWAY                                              228
  XXIII. SAVED                                                  240
   XXIV. REVELATIONS                                            249



THE MOTOR PIRATE



CHAPTER I

MAINLY ABOUT MYSELF


OF course every one has heard of the Motor Pirate. No one indeed could
help doing so unless he or she, as the case may be, happened to be in
some part of the world where newspapers never penetrate; since for
months his doings were the theme of every gossip in the country, and his
exploits have filled columns of every newspaper from the moment of his
first appearance until the day when the reign of terror he had
inaugurated upon the roads ended as suddenly and as sensationally as it
had begun. Who the owner of the pirate car was? Whence he came? Whither
he went? These are questions which have exercised minds innumerable; but
though there have been nearly as many theories propounded as there were
brains at work propounding them, so far no informed account of the man
or his methods has been made public.

Nearly twelve months have now elapsed since he was last heard of, and
already a number of myths have grown up about his mysterious
personality. For instance, it is not true, as I saw asserted in a
sensational evening paper the other day, that the Motor Pirate was in
the habit of abducting every young and attractive woman who happened to
be travelling in any of the cars he held up. On only one occasion did he
abduct a lady, and in that case there were special circumstances with
which the public have never been made acquainted. His deeds were quite
black enough without further blackening with printer's ink, and it would
be a pity if the real Motor Pirate were lost sight of in mythical haze
such as has gathered about the name of his great prototype, Dick Turpin.

It has occurred to me, therefore, to tell the story of his doings--it
would be impossible for any mortal man to give an absolutely detailed
account of his life and actions--but I know more than the majority of
people about the personality of the man. Of one thing my readers may be
assured: I personally can vouch for the accuracy of every fact which I
chronicle. You see I am not a professional historian.

How it happened that I am in a position to give hitherto unknown
particulars about the Motor Pirate will appear in the course of my
narrative. Sufficient for the moment let it be for me to say that it was
purely by chance that the opportunity was thrown in my way; though, as
it happened, it was not entirely without my own volition that I became
involved in the network of events which finally resulted in the tragedy
which closed his career. By that tragedy the world lost a brilliant
thinker and inventor, though unfortunately these great talents were
accompanied by an abnormal condition of mind, which led the owner to
utilise his invention in criminal pursuits.

It may probably seem strange that, being in possession of facts as to
the identity of this mysterious person, I did not lay them before the
police, who, at any time during the three months of his criminal career,
would have given their ears to lay him by the heels. You may even think
it is their duty to take proceedings against me as an accomplice. Well,
I am quite prepared to answer any question which the police, or any one
else for that matter, desires to put to me. James Sutgrove, of Sutgrove
Hall, Norfolk, is not likely to change his address. When my poor old
governor died he left me sufficient excuse, in the shape of real estate,
for remaining in the country of my birth; though, if the necessity had
arisen, I should not have hesitated about going abroad. At twenty-five,
my age within a few weeks, a man has usually sufficient energy to enable
him to carve out a career for himself in a new country, and I do not
think I am very different to my fellows in that respect. But the fact
is, I have nothing to fear from the police. My criminality was less than
theirs. An ordinary citizen may be forgiven if he is blind to the
meaning of things which occur under his nose, but the police are
expected to be possessed of somewhat sharper vision. The utmost that can
be urged against me is, that if my eyes had been keener than those of
Scotland Yard, reinforced by the trained vision of some hundreds of
intelligent chief constables throughout the country, I might have been
able to lay my hands upon the Motor Pirate before--but I must not
anticipate my story.

One word of apology, however, before I begin. In order to make my
narrative fully intelligible I shall have to refer to matters which may
seem of a purely personal nature. I will make these as brief as
possible, but it was entirely through such that I was brought into
closer touch with the Motor Pirate than, perhaps with one exception, any
other person in the world. If therefore I seem to be devoting too much
attention to what appears to be merely personal interest, I trust I may
be excused. To begin, then, at the beginning.

       *       *       *       *       *

On the evening of March 31, 19--, I had arranged to dine in town with a
couple of friends, both of them neighbours of mine. I am not going to
mention the name of the restaurant. It was not one of the fashionable
ones, or probably neither the cuisine nor the wines would have been so
good as they were, though both would unquestionably have been more
expensive. I prefer, therefore, to keep the name to myself. It was in
the neighbourhood of Soho, however, and the reason I had invited my
friends was in order to disabuse their minds of the idea that everything
in that neighbourhood was of necessity cheap and nasty. I had
determined that their palates should be charmed by the dinner they were
to eat, so, in addition to sending a note to the proprietor, I thought
it as well to arrive at the restaurant a quarter of an hour before the
appointed time, in order to make assurance doubly sure that everything
was as I desired it. Had my guests been casual acquaintances, I must
confess that I should never have taken this trouble. But they were not.
One of them was the renowned Colonel Maitland. I never heard anything
about his war service, but I do know that as a gastronomist his
reputation is European. The cool way he will condemn an _entrée_,
presented to him by an obsequious waiter, merely after casting a single
glance upon it, speaks volumes for his critical insight; and as for
wines--well, he can tell the vineyard and the vintage of a claret by the
scent alone. I verily believe that were he to be served with a corked
wine, the result would be instant dissolution between his gastronomic
soul and body. Naturally I had to make some preparations, in order that
such delicate susceptibilities should not be offended. In addition, I
had a special reason for seeking to please him. Colonel Maitland had a
daughter.

I have only to mention the name of my other guest to reveal his identity
to every one with any knowledge of the motoring world. It was Fred
Winter, _the_ Fred Winter, leading light of the Automobile Club, holder
of more road records than I can count, in fact the most enthusiastic
motorist in the country. It was in consequence of this, indeed, that he
came to be my guest. There were few questions in regard to motoring
upon which Winter was not competent to give an opinion, and being myself
a victim to the prevailing motor-mania, I was deeply indebted to him for
many valuable tips. By this time I had passed my novitiate, and was
still driving a neat little 9½-h.p. Clément in order to fit myself
for a more powerful and speedy car.

I arrived then at the restaurant about a quarter to eight, and having
had a brief but satisfactory interview with the proprietor, I made my
way to the table I had reserved in my favourite corner of the
dining-room. Finding I had ten minutes to spare, to kill time I ordered
a vermouth and the evening papers. The _Globe_ was the first upon the
pile the waiter brought to me, and following the example of most sane
men, I skipped the parliamentary intelligence and turned to the "By the
Way" column. I remember distinctly there was only one amusing paragraph
therein, and I was about to throw the paper aside, with the customary
lament as to the decadence of British humour, when my attention was
arrested by a paragraph at the bottom of the next column. The heading
was "Strange Highway Robbery." This was the paragraph:--

"Our Plymouth correspondent reports a novel highway robbery on the road
between Tavistock and Plymouth. Two gentlemen who had been for a run on
their motor to Tavistock, left the latter town about eight o'clock last
night. Their journey was uneventful until they reached Roborough, where
they were suddenly overtaken by a motor-car occupied by a man, who
presented a pistol at their heads, and ordered them to stop. Thinking
that the stranger merely intended to scare them, and that the summons
was only an ill-advised piece of pleasantry, they paid no attention to
the demand; whereupon the driver of the strange car, with a
well-directed shot, so damaged the machinery of their vehicle that they
were compelled to obey. Their attacker then demanded all the money and
articles of value they had in their possession under threat of
completely wrecking their car, and after securing his booty the
highwayman decamped. In consequence of the damage to their motor, it was
not until late at night that they reached Plymouth, and were enabled to
give particulars of the occurrence to the police. From their description
of the stranger's vehicle, identification should not be difficult. It is
a long, low, boat-shaped car of remarkable speed, and from the little
noise it creates is probably driven by an electric motor. As to the
personal appearance of the driver, the gentlemen who were robbed could
form no opinion, for he wore the usual leather coat affected by
tourists, and his head was completely enveloped in a hood."

On reading this paragraph, my first impulse was to lay aside the paper
and indulge in a hearty laugh. My impression was that some wag had been
hoaxing either the Plymouth correspondent or the London editor of the
_Globe_. However, my curiosity was sufficiently aroused to lead me to
take up another paper, to see if the _Globe_ was the only paper which
reported the occurrence.

The next paper on my pile was the _Star_, and the moment I unfolded the
pink sheet, I perceived that this liveliest of evening journals was not
going to be left behind by the _Globe_ in providing the public with
particulars of the latest sensation. Under the heading of "A Motor
Pirate," with descriptive headlines extending across a couple of
columns, and as attractively alliterative as the cunning pen of a smart
sub-editor could make them, was the account of a similar incident. At
first I thought it must be the same occurrence, but a brief perusal
showed me that this impression was a wrong one. But I will give the
_Star_ account in full, and I do so the more readily, not only because
it contains the first detailed account of the man whose extraordinary
audacity was shortly to raise the interest of the public to fever pitch,
but also because it tells the story with a force and colour of which my
unpractised pen is incapable. Apologising therefore to the editor for
the liberty I have taken, I reprint the _Star_ account verbatim. I
think, however, the story deserves a new chapter.



CHAPTER II

THE COMPTON CHAMBERLAIN OUTRAGE


                       "A MOTOR PIRATE
             "TAKES TOLL OF TRAVELLERS IN THE WEST.

          "A VEILED STRANGER ON A MYSTERIOUS MOTOR FLIES
                 "THE BLACK FLAG NEAR SALISBURY.

"ON receipt of the following extraordinary story from the Central News
Agency this morning, the _Star_ at once sent a representative to make
inquiries on the spot. His inquiries reveal the existence of a new
terror to all who travel by road. Following are the facts communicated
to us by the agency:--

"'A daring highway robbery was committed near Salisbury late last night.
The victims were two gentlemen who had been touring in the west country
by motor. They had intended to reach Salisbury early yesterday evening,
but were delayed by a puncture. When about eight miles from Salisbury
they were attacked by the occupant of another car, who wrecked their
vehicle, and, after robbing them of all their valuables, decamped,
leaving them badly injured by the wayside. There they were discovered
some time afterwards and removed to the nearest inn at Compton
Chamberlain, where they remain under medical attendance.--_Central
News._'

"The _Star_ special correspondent wires:--

                                         "Compton Chamberlain, 12.30.

"There is no doubt but that the Motor Pirate has a real existence. On
arriving at Salisbury I at once proceeded to make inquiries as to what
was known of the outrage, but Salisbury generally was sceptical on the
subject. I found, however, that the affair had been reported at the
county police office; and I at once drove on here, and am now in a
position to assert that this quiet Wiltshire village has been the scene
of the most astounding robbery of modern times. It is safe to prophecy
that in a few more months Dick Turpin will be forgotten. He has a rival
in the field whose exploits will soon relegate him into comparative
obscurity.

"The first visible evidence of the outrage was afforded me about a
quarter of a mile from Compton. The road dips here slightly, and at the
end of the incline a motor-car was drawn to the side of the road, or
rather the remains of what had once been a smart Daimler of some 7 or 8
h.p. A stonebreaker was at work on an adjacent pile of flints, and when
I alighted to examine the wreck, he nailed me with, 'Hoy, mister! Ye'd
better leave thick thur car alone. The p'lice be comin' to tek un up
zhortly.'

"I gathered from him that he had been told to keep an eye upon the car,
but beyond having heard that the owners had met with an accident, he
knew nothing. There was no doubt about the accident. The car was so
broken up that it looked as if it had been in collision with an armoured
train.

                                       "Compton Chamberlain, 2.45 p.m.

"I have just succeeded in interviewing the owner of the motor-car, a Mr.
James Bradshaw, of 379, Maida Vale. His companion was Mr. Gainsborough
Roberts, of 200, Clapham Common. Mr. Roberts is suffering from severe
concussion, and has not regained consciousness; but fortunately Mr.
Bradshaw's injuries, though painful, are not dangerous, and he has been
good enough to give me a full account of his unique adventure. It seems
the two gentlemen had been touring in the west country for ten days, and
were on their way home. They stopped the previous night at Exeter,
leaving about ten in the morning with the intention of reaching
Salisbury about five or six yesterday evening. They lunched at
Ilminster, and afterwards had traversed another twenty-five miles of
their journey when one of their tyres unfortunately punctured. This was
shortly after they had passed through Wincanton. When the tyre was
mended, something went wrong with the electric ignition, and altogether
the repairs proved such a tedious job that they could not make a fresh
start until close upon lighting-up time.

"The delay had not troubled them, for the weather was beautifully fine.
As, however, they were very hungry, they determined to stop at
Shaftesbury for dinner before finishing the day's run they had mapped
out. There is a particularly long hill into Shaftesbury, and they did
not reach that town until 8.30. At the hotel they met another party of
motorists, and, agreeing to dine together, it was not until after ten
that they found themselves once more on their way, with twenty miles of
a hilly road to cover. The lateness of the hour did not trouble them
much. They had wired to Salisbury for rooms; the night was fine and
clear; a bright moon was shining; the roads were clear of traffic, and
their motor was guaranteed to do its thirty-five miles an hour. They
thought that it would be a good opportunity to find out what Mr.
Bradshaw's car was really capable of doing on a hilly track.

"Mr. Bradshaw declares that he had never enjoyed a run more than he did
on this occasion. A brisk wind was blowing behind them, they found there
was more downhill than up, the road was absolutely clear, and they were
able to take the declines at a pace which took the sting out of the
ascents."

"So for twenty minutes they ran at full speed, and after slowing to pass
through a village, they had just put on full speed again when Mr.
Bradshaw's attention was arrested by a curious humming sound which
appeared to arise from something behind. He was, of course, unable to
glance back, as all his faculties were engaged in driving the car; but
Mr. Roberts, whose attention was attracted at the same moment, informed
him that another motor-car was coming up behind. Then, to quote Mr.
Bradshaw's own words, 'Thinking the other chap was on for a race, I did
everything I knew to get every ounce out of my motor. But,' he
continued, 'though I'll swear we were running nearer forty than
thirty-five, the other fellow swooped up and passed us as if we were
standing still.'

"For the moment he thought that the stranger was one of those American
speed motors specially built for racing on the track, but only for a
moment. The strange car slackening speed, allowed them to come
alongside. What followed may be best described in Mr. Bradshaw's own
words.

"'There was only one occupant of the strange car, and, seeing him
slacken speed, I naturally thought he wished to speak to us. So, as he
came level, I shouted to him, my exact words being, if I remember
aright, "Hallo, sir! You've got a flyer there." I fancied I heard a
chuckle from beneath his mask (he wore a hood covering the head fitted
with a mica plate in front) and he replied, "Yes; I fancy my car is fast
enough to overtake anything that is to be found on the road." There was
something in his tone that struck me as peculiar, but I merely
attributed it to the motorist's pride in his car. As however he said
nothing further, but continued to keep alongside, in a manner that
looked as if he were inclined to gloat over the owner of a less speedy
machine, I asked with some little irritation, "Is there anything I can
do for you, because if not----" He did not allow me to finish my query.
"Yes, sir," he replied promptly, "there is something I am going to ask
you to do for me," and he gave another of his infernal chuckles.

"'"Well, what is it?" I demanded, with a little warmth.

"'"I must request you to hand over all your money and valuables to me,"
he replied.

"'I could not believe my ears. I was so astonished that I gave the wheel
a turn that nearly landed us in the ditch. Will you believe it? Even in
that swerve the strange car followed mine, and when I had got her
straight in the road, I heard him chuckle again. His manner angered me
beyond bearing.

"'"What the deuce do you mean?" I shouted.

"'"There's no need for you to lose your temper," he answered coolly. "I
must, however, trouble you to stop that car at once."

"'As he spoke he raised his hand, and I saw the barrel of a revolver
glisten in the moonlight. There seemed to be only one way out of the
predicament, for I thought I had to deal with a madman, and I took it. I
pretended to be so alarmed that I fell over the steering wheel, and made
my car swerve again. But this time we swerved towards, instead of away
from, the stranger. I doubt whether there was light enough for him to
have read my intention in my face, but it was obvious that he
anticipated my move, for his car shot forward with such wonderful speed
that the fate I intended to force upon him befell myself. I saw his car
disappearing ahead, and the next moment I was just conscious of a shock
that sent me flying into oblivion.

"'Exactly how long I remained unconscious I do not know, but when I came
to my senses I found myself lying on the grass at the roadside, having
fortunately been thrown on the soft turf. Roberts was lying unconscious
on the road; the car was smashed to bits; our pockets had been turned
inside out, and our money, watches, and every article of value we had
about us, taken. Needless to say, the stranger had disappeared.'

"Mr. Bradshaw was not in a state to be of much assistance to his more
badly injured friend, and he was at a complete loss as to what course to
pursue, when a trap coming from Salisbury fortunately made its
appearance on the scene. Assistance was procured, and the two injured
gentlemen were conveyed to Compton, and medical attention quickly
provided. Though much shaken, and badly bruised, Mr. Bradshaw has
sustained comparatively little injury. Mr. Roberts, however, is
dangerously ill, and his relatives have been telegraphed for.

"As regards the appearance of his assailant, Mr. Bradshaw can give few
particulars, save that he was clad in a large leather motoring coat, and
his face completely hidden by a mask. The car can, on the contrary, be
easily identified. It is boat-shaped, running to a sharp, cutting edge
both in front and behind. The body is not raised more than eighteen
inches from the ground. The wheels are either within the body, or so
sheathed that they are completely hidden. It has apparently seating
accommodation for two persons, the seat being placed immediately in the
centre of the car. Mr. Bradshaw is quite convinced that petrol is not
the motive force used for its propulsion, and as he cannot imagine that
an electric motor of any kind was employed; the rapidity of motion, the
perfection of the steering, the absence of noise and vibration, are so
remarkable that he is utterly at a loss as to what build of car was
driven by the stranger."

I had just finished reading this extraordinary story when I felt a tap
on the shoulder, and, looking up, saw Colonel Maitland standing before
me.

"'Pon my word, Sutgrove," he remarked, "I have never before seen any one
so completely enthralled in a newspaper in my life. I've been standing
watching you for nearly a minute."

I sprang to my feet, and held out my hand.

"What's the latest from Mr. Justice Jeune's division? When you come to
my years of discretion you will be more interested in the _menu_."

I laughed. "It was not the inanities of the divorce court, Colonel," I
remarked; "but the most astonishing----"

He checked me with uplifted hand. "Being a rational being," he said, "I
prefer my stories with my cigar. One should come to dinner with a calm
mind."

At this moment Winter entered the room, and, giving a signal to the
waiter, the _hors d'oeuvre_ were placed before us as he seated himself
at the table.

When he had greeted me I had observed that Colonel Maitland's face had
worn a slightly resigned expression that reminded me of a picture I had
seen somewhere of Christian martyrs being led to the stake. He took a
mouthful of caviar and the cloud lifted. After the soup the dominant
note of self-sacrifice had vanished entirely. With the fish his features
attained repose. When we reached the _entrée_ his face had the radiance
of a translated saint's. Then, with my mind at rest as to the effect of
my little dinner upon my chief guest, I found time to devote a little
attention to Winter. Yet, bearing in mind the Colonel's objection to
anything but light generalities during the serious business of dinner, I
forbore to introduce the topic I was burning to discuss with him. Not
until the coffee was upon the table, and Colonel Maitland had expressed
his contentment with the dinner, did I venture to refer to it. Then,
while our senior was dallying with an early strawberry, Winter gave me a
lead.

"By the way, Sutgrove," he said, "what's this I saw on the evening paper
bills about a motor pirate?"

I told him. His interest was awakened to such an extent that he forgot
to taste the glass of port which stood before him, and which I had
ordered out of compliment to the Colonel's ideas of what was desirable.

When my story was concluded Winter was silent. Colonel Maitland,
however, hazarded the remark that the whole narrative was "a concoction
of some of those newspaper fellows. I have been at the War Office," he
said, "so I ought to know of what they are capable."

"I can scarcely imagine that any newspaper would dare hoax its readers
to such an extent," remarked Winter.

"They are capable of anything--anything," replied the Colonel,
vigorously. "I have known them on more than one occasion to attack even
my department."

"That of course is scandalous," I replied warmly; "but here the
conditions are different. They are referring to people who are able to
reply if the facts are not as stated. In your case your mouth, of
course, was closed."

"Umph!" growled the Colonel.

"At the same time," said Winter, "it may very well have happened that
consciously or unconsciously the papers have been made the victims of a
practical joke. To-morrow is the first of April, remember. Or even apart
from the joke theory, the event happened after dinner, and Mr. Bradshaw
may have found it necessary to be prepared with an explanation of his
accident."

"But the robbery?" I objected.

"A passing tramp may have thought the opportunity too good to be
neglected."

"At all events," I persisted, "it is curious that two similar accidents
should have occurred the same night in the same part of the country."

"Certainly the coincidence is remarkable," answered Winter. "But do not
forget that the two occurrences took place at least a hundred and
thirty miles apart within less than three hours of one another. I will
swear that no motor yet built would cover those roads inside three
hours. I know them. No, Sutgrove. The moral seems to me to be that it is
unwise for a motorman to look upon the wine when it is red, if he wants
to get anywhere afterwards."

The Colonel stretched his hand across the table and removed the glass
which stood on the table before Winter.

"My young friend," he observed, "you have, I believe, undertaken to
bring me safely home to-night?"

"You need not fear," replied Winter, laughing, "it's only the liquors
supplied at country inns which drive motor-cars into ditches."

The Colonel replaced the glass with a smile and refilled his own from
the cradled bottle at his elbow.

"I am merely a passenger, but you drive," he remarked. "I think,
Sutgrove, under the circumstances, I will be responsible for the
remainder of this bottle. It is endowed with certain qualities which
particularly recommend themselves to me. It would be a sad thing if an
accident were to befall us on our journey. In times of stress such as
these one never knows when the War Office may not require the services
of a capable man."

Though the Colonel spoke in jest, in the event his words indicated with
a fair amount of accuracy the destination of the port, for while we
continued to discuss every point in the story, he sipped and sipped and
nodded his head beatifically. I did not replenish my glass, but when we
rose the bottle was empty.

"Well, Colonel, what do you say to a music hall?" I asked.

"My boy," he replied, as he patted me on the back, "I sleep far more
comfortably in my bed."

I realized where the contents of the bottle had gone by the
sententiousness of my friend's phrasing, the slight turgidity, so to
speak, of his articulation.

"My dear boy," he continued, "I have never known you until this moment.
You are greater than Columbus. Any one might discover a new continent,
but in these days it needs exceptional qualities of enterprise and
endurance to discover a fresh restaurant. I am content. Let us go home."

We donned our overcoats and came into the open air. Winter's motor was
waiting at the door in charge of a man from the _garage_ where he had
left it. We stepped in.



CHAPTER III

WHEREIN I MEET THE PIRATE


WE were soon out of the narrow Soho street, and I observed that the time
was just half-past ten as Winter steered us carefully through Piccadilly
Circus. Colonel Maitland occupied a seat behind while I sat beside
Winter.

The car my friend drove was a magnificent 22-horse Daimler, built to his
own specification and capable of doing considerably more than any car I
had hitherto been privileged to ride upon. Of course while passing
through the streets there was little chance of exhibiting its
capabilities. Yet even there, the way the car glided in and out of the
traffic, delicately responsive to the slightest touch of the steering
wheel, was sufficient evidence of its quality to set the most nervous
passenger at ease. As it was as yet too early for the after theatre
traffic to fill the streets and compel us to stop every few minutes, we
followed the main road up Oxford Street as far as the Marble Arch. There
we turned to the right. Once clear of the narrow part of the Edgeware
Road, Winter put on his second speed and a very few minutes seemed to
have passed before we were bumping over a rough bit of roadway by
Cricklewood.

"There's not much of this," said Winter, cheerily over his shoulder to
the Colonel.

Our gastronomic friend merely grunted for reply, and I should have
thought him to be asleep had not the red glow of his cigar assured me
that he was still awake.

Winter jammed on his third speed and the hedges began to fly past us. We
were in the country now and were able to appreciate the fineness of the
night. Indeed it was a perfect night. The air was sharp but without
sting. The moon shone with a clear brilliance which betokened rain in
the near future. The road was clean and dry, and there was no dust in
the air except the thin cloud which floated behind us. We passed the
Welsh Harp without a check, and not until we reached Edgeware did Winter
revert to his second speed. We ran through the little town with only
momentary slackening of pace, and so we sped onwards until we opened the
stretch of road leading to Brockley Hill. Here Winter, seeing the road
clear ahead, jammed on his highest speed and the wheels droned like a
hive of bees as we darted towards the incline. We were half way up the
hill before Winter found it necessary to transform his speed into power,
and we finished the ascent with ease. Then once more the order was third
speed, and we whirled away through Elstree and passed through Radlett a
bare half hour from the time we started.

Just at this time I looked back to see how Colonel Maitland fared. His
cigar no longer glowed, though it was still tightly held between his
teeth. His head was bent forward, and the regular and gentle murmur
which came from his nose proclaimed that he slept. I had just mentioned
the fact to Winter, and had turned again to assure myself that he was
comfortably wrapped in his rug, when I thought I saw on the road behind
me another car.

"Hullo!" I said to Winter. "There's another chap coming on behind us.
Without lights, too!"

A slight bend in the road shut out the view, however, and made me doubt
whether or no my eyes had been deceiving me.

"Pooh!" replied Winter. "We've passed nothing on the road, and at the
pace we've been travelling there's not another car owned in this
district we should not have left miles behind us, even if it had started
at the same time as ourselves. You must have mistaken some of the
shadows from the trees. How much of that port did you drink?"

I laughed, but as we had now reached a straight stretch of road I looked
back again.

"I'm right," I said. "There is another car, and by jove! It's coming up
hand over fist."

"What?" shouted Winter. "What?"

He clearly did not appreciate the idea of being overtaken by any one,
for he whipped on his highest speed and jammed down the accelerator. The
change was enormous. Our powerful car, relieved from all restraint,
simply leaped through the air. Winter gave a pleased laugh as he
steadied her with the wheel.

"If the stranger can catch us now I shall believe it's the Motor Pirate
himself," he remarked in a pleased tone, that showed how proud he was of
his own car.

Our progress was so exhilarating that I wanted to shout defiance to the
stranger; yet I was so fascinated with the pace we were travelling, that
I could not take my eyes from the road which uncoiled before us.

Suddenly a humming sound forced itself upon my ear. For a moment I
thought it was due to the whirr of our own wheels. Then it struck me
that the note was a higher one. I half turned. The other car was within
a yard or two of us. In another second it was level and, running without
any visible vibration, indeed, without any noise save the snore of the
wheels as they raced round, the stranger slackened speed and ran by our
side.

Winter cast a hasty glance at the strange car, and I saw him bite his
lip with annoyance at finding his Daimler so outpaced.

One glance at the stranger was enough to tell me with whom we had to
deal. In the brilliant moonlight, the boat-shaped car with its sharp
prow, the almost invisible wheels, the masked occupant, assured me that
the evening papers had not been the victims of a hoax.

"It's the Motor Pirate himself," I said to Winter, and my voice was
hoarse with excitement.

"Motor Pirate be d----d!" replied Winter. What more he would have said I
do not know, for at this moment the stranger turning his mask towards us
called out in the most urbane manner--

"I must trouble you gentlemen to stop that car."

Winter at the best of times is of rather a peppery disposition, and
whenever any one requires him to pull up, his temper invariably gets the
better of his manners. His reply was an unnecessarily verbose, and
needlessly forcible negative.

I heard the stranger chuckle. "I really must trouble you to obey my
wishes," he replied, with ironic courtesy. "Otherwise I shall be
compelled to do some damage to that car of yours, a proceeding I always
try to avoid if possible."

"Do what you please," was in effect Winter's luridly adjectived answer.

"If you do not pull up within thirty seconds your fate will be upon your
own heads," said the stranger, shortly, as he laid his hand upon a
lever.

His car leapt away from ours, and though we were running nearly sixty
miles an hour, we might have been standing still, he dropped us so
rapidly. In fifteen seconds he had vanished in a cloud of dust ahead.

"I'm going to stop," said Winter, abruptly. He suited the action to the
word, and none too soon.

Again we heard the curious drone of the strange car as it swooped down
upon us, coming to a sudden halt a yard distant, with really beautiful
precision.

"What do you want?" shouted Winter, in his gruffest tones.

"I'm glad to find you have had the wisdom to do as I desired you," said
the Motor Pirate; for it was indeed he with whom we were now face to
face. "It would have deeply grieved me to wreck so good a car as that
you have there. A Daimler, I believe?"

"Oh, d----n your compliments! What is it you want?" growled Winter.

"Merely any articles of jewellery and any money you may happen to have
about you," remarked the stranger, pleasantly.

I saw the moonlight glitter on the barrel of a revolver as he spoke, and
he now lifted the weapon and pointed it towards us.

"I do not wish to proceed to extremities, and, as I gather from your
speech that I am dealing with gentlemen"--really Winter's language had
fully warranted the sarcasm--"if you will give me your word of honour
that you will hand over to me all articles of value in your possession,
I will leave your car untouched. If, on the contrary, you decline to
oblige me, I shall be under the disagreeable necessity of ruining that
very handsome car you are driving. I do not like to hurry you, but I am
afraid I must ask you to come to a speedy decision on the matter, for
these roads in the vicinity of London are not quite so secluded as one
of my profession could wish."

He delivered this speech with an air of mock politeness, which made
Winter writhe. He did not, however, reply. I think he was too angry.

"Come, gentlemen! Make up your minds. Your money or your--car!"

He made a slight pause before he said the word "car," and his fingers
played with the revolver in a manner that sent a cold shiver down my
spine.

"It's his turn now," I whispered to Winter. "It may be ours presently."

"Come, come, gentlemen!" said the stranger again; "do you give me your
words?"

"D----n you! I suppose we must," jerked out Winter, almost inarticulate
with rage.

"Each of you will dismount in turn and lay the contents of your pockets
before me here." He indicated a level shelf, which formed apparently
part of the casing of one of the wheels. "I must insist upon seeing the
linings of your pockets; and I need hardly warn you that it will be
extremely undesirable for you to make any movement liable to
misconstruction. This toy"--he lifted his pistol--"has a very delicate
touch. Now, gentlemen. One at a time, please, and do not wait to discuss
the question of precedence. I am quite willing to overlook any little
informality."

I listened closely to his speech, but the voice was so muffled by the
mask he wore, that I felt I should be unable to recognize it again. Only
one point I was assured upon--that the Pirate was an educated man.

Meanwhile what were we to do? All sorts of wild plans were darting
through my brain, and I knew that Winter's mind must be equally active.
But out of the medley no coherent scheme took shape. Winter dismounted,
and, throwing off his overcoat, advanced into the brilliant circle of
light cast by our lamps, and proceeded to empty his pockets. He laid his
note-case, his watch and chain, and sovereign-purse upon the car in
front of the highwayman, and, in obedience to a further command, added
the diamond which shone upon his little finger, and another which
adorned his shirt-front, to the pile. Then he resumed his place in the
car, and I passed through a similar humiliating ordeal. All the while
the stranger kept up a flow of apologies for the inconvenience which his
necessities compelled him to occasion us. I kept silence, though I must
confess the effort was a considerable strain upon my temper. Still, a
pistol with a business man at the butt end of it, is of considerable
assistance in preventing the exhibition of annoyance.

"If the other gentleman will make haste, I shall be the sooner able to
relieve you of my unwelcome society," the Pirate remarked, as I returned
to our car after handing over all the valuables in my possession.

In the excitement, I had, until this moment, entirely forgotten the
presence of Colonel Maitland; and now, looking closely at him, I
discovered that he was still in happy ignorance of the _contretemps_
which had befallen us. Swathed in rugs, he was propped up on the seat
behind us slumbering peacefully. A smile was upon his rosy face, and
ever and again he smacked his lips. He must have been dreaming of a
finer vintage than ever terrestrial vineyard produced.

"What the deuce can we do?" I asked Winter.

"Hullo, Colonel!" shouted my friend.

"What's the matter?" inquired the Pirate. "Does your friend refuse to
acknowledge the compact?"

"I'm afraid he can hardly be said to be a party to it," I replied. "He
has dined, and now he sleeps."

"Well, you will awaken him less roughly than I shall," was the retort.

"Any one who knows Colonel Maitland is aware that he is exceedingly
annoyed if awakened from his after-dinner nap," I urged.

"Colonel Maitland? Colonel Maitland the gourmet?"

"You know him?" said Winter.

The Pirate laughed pleasantly. "I have met him on one occasion, and, as
some slight return for a very excellent dinner which he ordered, and for
which--doubtless by an oversight--he left me to pay, I will not trouble
you to awaken him on this occasion. I wish you good evening, gentlemen."

As he finished speaking he backed his car for a few yards. His hand
moved to a lever. The car turned. He waved the hand which was
disengaged, and in a moment he was gone, attaining at once a speed,
which, until then I had thought it impossible for a motor-car ever to
achieve.

Both Winter and I sat stock still, gazing after the fast disappearing
car. We could not watch it for long; as in fifteen seconds it was out of
sight, and even the dust-cloud it had raised in its progress had
cleared.

Then Winter turned to me and muttered a few expletives gently in my ear.
I followed his example and we both felt better, at least I think so;
for, without rhyme or reason, Winter burst into a fit of laughter, and I
followed his example, though I cannot explain now, any more than I could
have done then, why I laughed.

When we had done laughing, Winter turned to me and said--

"Sutgrove, old fellow, would you mind punching me? I'm not quite sure
whether it is the Colonel who is asleep or myself. I feel as if I have
just awakened from dreaming of the story those newspapers printed."

"It's not much of a dream," I remarked. "I little thought that we were
to have the good fortune of so early an introduction to the Motor
Pirate, however. The Colonel will be quite cross to think that his
bottle of port prevented the renewal of an old acquaintance."

Then Winter laughed again. I think he saw the amusing side of our
adventure more clearly than I did, for I said sharply--

"Hadn't we better be getting on to St. Albans, and giving information to
the police?"

"H--m--m!" he answered meditatively. "I think perhaps we had better
not."

"Not?" I replied in surprise.

"In the first place it is after dinner," he said.

"What of that? We dined wisely."

"One of us knows nothing about it." Winter jerked his thumb in the
direction of the slumbering warrior. "We could hardly explain the reason
why the Colonel slept so soundly through the adventure. The explanation
could hardly please him, would it?"

I muttered an assent.

"Besides," continued Winter, "for three of us to admit that we tamely
allowed ourselves to be held up by one man, and forced to hand over to
him all our valuables, well it--er--it hardly seems heroic, does it?
That wouldn't create a very favourable impression upon Miss Maitland
either."

I was compelled to agree with him.

"I think perhaps we had best keep the matter to ourselves. I have no
desire to provide another sensation for the evening papers to-morrow."

"At any rate I'm not going to sit down quietly under my loss if you
are," I responded irritably.

"That's another matter altogether," replied Winter, as he set our car in
motion once more. "I did not say that I was going to grin and bear it
either."

"What do you propose?" I cried eagerly.

"That is a question we will discuss over a whisky and soda, when we have
deposited the Colonel safely at home;" and he refused to say anything
further.

Our car was once more put at full speed, and in five minutes we reached
the cross-roads on the outskirts of St. Albans, where the road to
Watford makes a junction with that on which we had come from town. Here
Winter pulled up, and, much to my surprise, dismounted and made a
careful examination of the road by the light of our lamps.

"I just want to see in which direction the fellow went," he answered, in
reply to my inquiry as to the meaning of his action.

He was still engaged on the task when we heard in the distance the
regular beat of a petrol motor approaching us on the Watford road.

"If it's another pirate, he won't get much plunder," I remarked.

"That's no pirate," replied Winter, as a couple of lights came into
view. "Cannot you recognize the rattle of Mannering's old car? I should
know it anywhere. He will be able to tell us if any one has passed him
on the road."

As soon as the new-comer came within range of his voice, Winter hailed
him.

"That you, Mannering?"

"Hullo, Winter! Got a puncture? Can I be of any assistance?"

Was it indeed Mannering's voice, or were my ears deceiving me? The
intonation was remarkably like that of the stranger, who so short a time
previously had bade us stand and deliver, that I sprang to my feet with
an exclamation of astonishment. My eyes at once convinced me that my
ears had played me false. There was no mistaking Mannering's lumbering
old car for the graceful shape of the Motor Pirate's vehicle. I resumed
my seat, taking my nerves seriously to task for generating the
suspicion, if suspicion it could be called, which had flashed across my
mind. If anything further had been needed to dispel it, the reply
vouchsafed to Winter's query as to whether he had met any one on the
road would have done so.

"Met any one?" said Mannering; "I should think I have. Met the most
wonderful motor I've ever seen, about a couple of miles back. 'Pon my
soul, I'm not sure even now whether it was not a big night bird, for it
just swooped by me with about as much noise as a humming-top might make.
It must have been travelling eighty miles an hour at least. Reckless
sort of devil the driver must be too. He hadn't a single light. I
suppose his lamps must have been put out by the rapidity with which he
was travelling. Never had such a scare in my life. I'd like to meet the
Johnny. I'd welcome an opportunity of telling him what I thought of his
conduct."

"So should I," replied Winter, grimly; "and I fancy Sutgrove would not
be averse to a meeting with him."

"Why, what has he been doing?" asked Mannering.

"It's too long a story to tell you now," said Winter, as he climbed back
into his seat; "but if you will come up to my place as soon as you have
put your car to bed, I'll tell you all about it."

"Right!" sang out Mannering, as we once more set out upon our homeward
way. We had not much further to go. In two minutes we had pulled up at
Colonel Maitland's door.

I leaned back and shouted, "Here we are, Colonel," in the slumbering
warrior's ear.

"Eh! What--what?" he replied, as he awakened with a start. "When are we
going to start?"

"Start? Why we've brought you safely home to your own threshold," said
Winter.

"'Pon my soul! I remember now," he answered. "I just shut my eyes to
keep the dust out of 'em, and---- You will come in for a peg, of
course," he continued, as he emerged from the rugs in which he had been
enveloped.

I glanced at the windows. There was only a light in the Colonel's study.
If there had been another in the drawing-room, I should have accepted
forthwith. As it was, I merely said that I could not think of disturbing
Miss Maitland.

"Pooh!" said the Colonel, with the usual callous disregard of the mere
father for his children's beauty sleep.

But he did not press the invitation. Indeed it was with difficulty he
succeeded in repressing a yawn.

"I'll call to-morrow, and get a considered opinion upon my Soho house of
entertainment," I remarked, as the Colonel opened his door, and paused
at the entrance to bid us a final good night.

"Glad to see you," he replied, as he grasped my hand and shook it
warmly. "But of one thing you may rest assured. So long as that bin of
port holds out, your house of entertainment may count upon me as a
regular customer whenever I dine in town."

"Opium isn't in it," commented Winter in a low voice, as he set the car
in motion and wheeled out of the drive. "How he could have slept so
soundly through it all absolutely beats me."

I did not reply. My attention was concentrated upon one of the upper
windows, at which I thought I had seen a form I knew very well make a
brief appearance. But we left the window and house behind us. Winter's
place was only about a hundred yards further up the road.



CHAPTER IV

CONCERNING MY RIVAL


"NOW, Jim, dip your beak into that, and let me see if it will not
restore to your classic features their customary repose."

So saying, Winter handed me a stately tumbler, and the mixture was so
much to my liking that I felt an involuntary relaxation of my facial
muscles immediately I obeyed the command. I stretched myself at length
in the easy chair which I had drawn up before the fire, and felt able to
forgive even the Motor Pirate. We were alone in the apartment which
Winter called his study, but since the only books he read therein were
motor-catalogues, and the lounges with which the snuggery was furnished
were much more conducive to repose than to mental exertion, I refused to
acknowledge its claim to the title. That, by the way. The fire was
burning brightly. Winter's red, rugged, honest face was beaming with
almost equal radiance. Who could help feeling happy?

Then Mannering was announced, and Mannering was a man I had learned to
passively dislike. Why, I scarcely knew. I was aware of nothing against
him. Indeed, when six months previously, on my first coming to St.
Albans, I had been introduced to him, I had been rather favourably
impressed. He was a tall dark man of thirty-five, with more than the
average endowment of good looks. He could tell a good story, had shot
big game in most parts of the world, was well-read, intelligent,
possessed unexceptionable manners, and yet---- Well, Winter had none of
his various qualifications, but I would at any time far rather have had
one friend like Winter than a hundred like the other man.

I had first made his acquaintance at Colonel Maitland's house, where I
had found him on an apparently intimate footing. Perhaps it was this
very intimacy which formed the basis for my dislike, for--there is no
need to mince matters--at this time I was jealous, horribly and
unreasonably jealous, of every male person who entered the Colonel's
house. And here, perhaps, it will be better for me to explain how it
happened that I came to be living in a cottage on the outskirts of St.
Albans in preference to my own house in Norfolk.

The change in my residence had been entirely due to a tennis party at
Cromer. There I met Evie Maitland. She was---- No, every one can fill in
the blank from their own experience for themselves; and if they cannot,
I pity them.

Fortunately I had an aunt present. She was the most amiable of aunts,
and quite devoted towards her most dutiful nephew. With her assistance,
I managed not only to improve my acquaintance with Miss Maitland, but
also to effect an introduction to her father. I had only known them a
week, however, before the Colonel took his daughter back to St. Albans.
I allowed an interval of a fortnight to elapse, and then I followed. Of
course I had to be prepared with some excuse, and here luck favoured me.
Looking through the directory I discovered that Winter, whom I knew
slightly as having been up at Camford about the same time as myself, was
also a resident in the delightful St. Alban's suburb of St. Stephens
where the Maitlands resided. I sought out Winter. I confided my story to
him. The upshot of it all was that I took a cottage close to his house,
and not far from the Colonel's, ostensibly that under Winter's tuition I
might develop into a first-class motorist.

Somehow I found that I made a great deal more progress with my motoring
than with my love-making. Surely a more bewitching, tantalizing,
provoking little beauty than Evie Maitland never tore a man's heart to
fragments. If she was kind to me one day, she would be still kinder to
Mannering the next. But that is neither here nor there. Anyhow, I
heartily wished him out of the way, for there was no doubt whatever that
Randolph Mannering was a much more attractive person than my
insignificant self. His mere advantage in age counted for something; but
I could have forgiven him that, had he not made use of the years to see
so much and do so much, that he could not help appearing in the light of
a hero to a girl who was just at the worshipping age. And he knew so
well how to get the fullest value out of his experiences. He never
paraded them, I must admit that much in his favour. He was far too
clever. An anecdote here and there to illustrate some point in the
conversation, a modest account of some thrilling adventure, in which he
hardly ever mentioned the part he had personally played, produced a much
greater effect than if he had gone about trumpeting the deeds he had
done and the dangers he had survived.

He had, too, the advantage of a much longer acquaintance with the
Maitlands than myself. I learned from the Colonel that Mannering had
been living in a house whose garden adjoined his own for a year before
my arrival on the scene. His life, until the Colonel had recognized him
as an acquaintance he had made at the house of a friend some years
before, had been that of a recluse, the object of his retirement being
to perfect some mechanical invention upon which he was engaged. He had
soon developed into a friend of the family, and I had found him firmly
installed as such when I made my appearance at St. Albans.

Naturally then I was none too pleased that Winter had proposed to take
him into our confidence, but I made no absolute objection.

I sat smoking quietly while Winter told the story of our adventure. He
listened most attentively.

"It's a most extraordinary story," he remarked, when the narrative was
concluded. "You are quite sure neither of you touched any of that
port?"

Winter turned one of his pockets inside out with an expressive gesture.

"Wine may rob a man of his wits," he replied, "but it does not relieve
him of fifty pounds in notes, six in gold, a watch and chain worth
fifty, and a diamond which has been valued at a hundred."

"The numbers of the notes should enable you to trace the thief," said
Mannering, thoughtfully.

Winter laughed. "The fact is, I am such a careless beggar. I always
carry notes about with me, replenishing my case when necessary; and
really I have nothing to tell me whether those notes I had in my
possession were the last batch I had from the bank, or odd ones left
over from previous consignments. They may have been in my case for
months."

"Both Winter and I could identify our watches," I hazarded.

"Of course," replied Mannering, "if your Motor Pirate is fool enough to
attempt to pawn them you may get the chance; but if he sells them to a
receiver, they'll go straight into the melting pot."

Winter lit a cigarette and Mannering turned to me. "What was the extent
of your loss?"

"Ten in gold, thirty in notes, and say thirty for my watch. My loss is
comparatively light."

"You know the numbers of your notes, I suppose?" he inquired, as he lit
a cigarette in turn.

"Yes," I replied, "I'm not quite so casual as Winter."

"There's some clue for the police to work upon, then."

"It might prove to be so, only Winter thinks we show up so badly in the
whole affair that he won't hear of my giving information."

"The fact is," said Winter, "Maitland slept soundly through the whole
affair, and it wouldn't be sporting to give him away."

"I see----" began Mannering.

Winter deftly changed the subject. "What puzzles me," he said, "is the
kind of motor the fellow employed to propel his car. I know of nothing
at present on the market anything like so effective. I've seen 'em all."

"Your loss doesn't seem to trouble you much, anyhow," commented
Mannering.

"I would willingly give a hundred times as much for a duplicate of that
motor. I should be pretty sure to get my money back once I put it on the
market."

"If there's all that value in it, why should the owner go in for highway
robbery?" I asked.

"That's just what I fail to understand," said Winter. "From what I could
see of it, our friend the Motor Pirate is possessed of an ideal car,
graceful in shape, making no noise, running with a minimum of vibration
and a maximum of speed. Why, there's a fortune in it."

"Of course it is quite impossible that the motive power can be
electricity?" remarked Mannering, gazing into the fire as if he could
see a solution of the mystery therein.

"Quite out of the question. Any one who has the slightest knowledge of
motoring would know it to be impossible, even if the Pirate had devised
a storage battery which would knock Edison's latest invention into a
cocked hat. But supposing he had achieved the feat, remember that,
according to the newspaper reports, he was at Plymouth yesterday at
dusk, near Salisbury at eleven the same evening, and holding us up on
the confines of St. Albans to night. He would be bound to get his
batteries recharged somewhere and, with a car of such remarkable shape,
how is he to do so without exciting remark? No; electricity is quite out
or the question. I should be glad to think that the car was an electric
one. His capture would only be a matter of a few hours."

An indefinable expression, which might have been a smile, flitted across
Mannering's face.

"I hope, for all our sakes, his motor is an electric one," he said. "At
all events it should not be difficult to track a car of so singular a
shape. If it were built on the same lines as yours or mine, for
instance, the owner might go anywhere without attracting attention."

"Anyhow," I broke in, "until he is captured I'm going for a run every
night with something that will shoot within easy reach. The next time I
have the fortune to meet with him I hope I shall be in a position to get
a bit of my own back."

Again a smile appeared on Mannering's face as he exclaimed, "I almost
feel inclined to follow your example. I have nearly forgotten how to
use a pistol since I have resided in this law-ridden land."

"Surely you won't expose your experimental car to the chance of being
rammed by the Motor Pirate," remarked Winter, chaffingly.

Mannering's car was a stock joke with us. It was a particularly
cumbersome vehicle, with heaven only knows what type of body. It might
have been capable of twenty miles an hour on the flat, but that would be
the extreme limit of its powers. "You fellows," he had explained to us
one day, "have taken to motoring for the fun of flying along the
high-roads at an illegal speed. I have taken to it for a more
utilitarian purpose. I have my own ideas about the motor of the future,
and I am working them out down here. My old caravan is heavy, perhaps,
but I want a heavy car. It's most useful for testing tyres, and that is
one of the special points engaging my attention. Besides, in this car I
am not tempted to get into trouble with the police. Twelve miles an hour
is quite fast enough for all my purposes."

Both Winter and myself had frequently asked him how he was progressing
with his work, but as he had never returned us any but the vaguest of
answers, nor ever invited us into the workshop which had once formed the
stables of the house where he resided, we had thought that his story of
being engaged in mechanical invention merely an excuse for getting rid
of unpleasant visitors. I think we were both surprised when he answered
Winter's chaff quite warmly.

"I should not at all mind exposing my car to any risk if I could get the
opportunity to examine the Motor Pirate's car. If the truth must be
told, from what I have seen of his car, and what you have told me, I am
rather inclined to think that whoever designed it has forestalled me in
an idea which I had thought quite my own. I have long been working to
produce a car which would run at least a hundred miles an hour without
noise or perceptible vibration."

"Couldn't you get it completed in a week?" interrupted Winter. "We might
have a most exciting chase after our friend."

Mannering shook his head. "I've been absolutely floored on one detail,
and if that fellow has solved the problem----" Shrugging his shoulders,
he rose and held out his hand to Winter. I followed his example.

"I had no idea that you had anything so important on the stocks,"
remarked Winter, as he accompanied us to the door.

"Nor would you have done so until you saw the perfect machine on the
road, if it had not been for my chagrin at seeing that car to-night. Of
course I can count upon you both to say nothing of the matter."

"On condition that you do not refer to our adventure again," said I,
laughing.

"Agreed," responded Mannering, as he smiled again.

We both said good night to Winter, and in spite of our host's efforts to
persuade us to stay for another peg, I followed Mannering out,
declaring that I should never be able to face Mrs. Winter again if I
kept him up any longer.

I found Mannering standing at the gate, and I paused beside him to
glance at the sky, across which one or two fleecy clouds were hurrying
from the west. The moon, brilliant as earlier in the evening, now hung
low down over the horizon. The breeze had freshened, and we could hear
it whispering amongst the trees.

"We shall not be long without rain. If the Pirate is still abroad he
will leave tracks," said Mannering.

The beauty of the night held so much of appeal to me that I felt annoyed
at the current of my thoughts being turned back to the topic.

I answered shortly. My companion took no notice of my petulance.

"You have always thought I cared nothing for speed," he remarked, "but
you were mistaken. I thought I would keep my desires in the background
until I had succeeded in perfecting a car which I knew it would be
impossible to outpace. I could not enter into competition with longer
purses than my own, and if I had bought the fastest car in the market
somebody else would have bought one faster. But to-night---- By Jove!
How I envy that Motor Pirate. Imagine what the possession of that car
means on a night like this, with the roads clear from John-o'-Groat's to
Land's End. Fancy flying onwards at a speed none have ever attempted.
Can you not see the road unwinding before you like a reel of white
ribbon, hear the sweet musical drone of the wheels in your ears----" He
stopped abruptly.

He must have observed my natural amazement at the intensity of feeling
which his speech displayed, for he observed in a lighter tone--

"Not being Motor Pirates, however, the next best thing is, I suppose, to
go to bed and dream that we are." He turned on his heel and strode away
in one direction, while I went in the direction of my own home. But I
was in no hurry to get there. The night was too delightful.

In the few hours which had elapsed since we had sat down to dine, a
change had come over the face of the land. I could feel the presence of
Spring in the air, and all the youth in me awoke. The creatures of the
earth felt it too. In the silence of the night I could hear the crackle
of the buds as they cast off their winter coverings, hear the whisper of
the grass, which the countryman declares is the sound of growing blades,
hear the murmur of all animate things as they rose to welcome the
Springtide. My own heart leapt up with a renewal of hope. I stood awhile
outside Colonel Maitland's door, and breathed a prayer that it might be
my fortune to protect the fair inmate of the house from all harm through
life. I strolled slowly to my own door, but I did not enter. Moonbeams
beget love-dreams when one is still in the twenties.

Back again to the Colonel's house, back once more to my own. In all
probability I should have continued my solitary sentry-go and my
reverie until daybreak, had not my thoughts been sharply recalled to
earth. On reaching my own doorway for the fifth or sixth time I had just
turned, when I saw a black shadow on the road opposite the Maitlands'
house. One glance was enough; it was the Motor Pirate again, and I began
to count. "One--two--," the car passed me, "three--four;" it had
vanished round a turning of the road in the direction of St. Albans.

Even what I had already experienced of the Pirate had not prepared me
for such an exhibition as this. What Mannering had said about the
delight of flying along an open road at a hundred miles an hour recurred
to me. I had not deemed it possible. But I paced the distance between
the Colonel's house and the bend where the strange car had passed out of
sight. The distance was just about two hundred yards, and it had been
covered as near as possible in four seconds. The car must have been
travelling just about a hundred miles an hour.

I went straight indoors to bed. I am not ashamed to confess that I was
not able to continue my dreams in comfort, while pacing the road, by the
consideration of what would have happened to me had the Motor Pirate
come along just two seconds before I happened to turn and see him.



CHAPTER V

THE COLONEL DREAMS, AND I AWAKEN


I SLEPT until late the next morning. I have always been accustomed to a
clear eight hours' sleep, and, as I did not get between the sheets until
about four in the morning, I naturally did not awaken until mid-day. So
what with my tub and the necessity for shaving, my early morning call
upon the Colonel did not come off. I suppose, as a matter of fact, I sat
down to breakfast just about the time when the gastronomic warrior was
thinking of luncheon. However, when I saw how amply my expectation of a
change in the weather had been fulfilled, I did not regret my lengthy
sleep. From a sodden grey sky sheets of water were steadily pouring.
There was not the slightest chance of any break in the clouds.
Consequently I felt assured of finding Miss Maitland at home if I made
my call in the afternoon, and since her father oftentimes thought it
expedient to take a little repose after luncheon in order to prepare
himself for the fatigue of dining, it was possible that I might even be
fortunate enough to secure a _tête-à-tête_ with her.

I came to my breakfast, therefore, with as good a spirit as appetite,
neither being in the slightest degree affected by the memory of the easy
way in which I had been plundered by the Motor Pirate. Of course I felt
a certain chagrin. Still, I could contemplate the adventure with a
considerable deal more equanimity than I had managed to display the
night before, though I found that my curiosity concerning him had, if
anything, increased. I turned with eagerness to the morning papers to
see whether they could add to my knowledge concerning him.

As every one is aware, all the papers on the morning of the first of
April that year devoted columns to his exploits. If I remember aright,
the country was at that time engaged upon two of our usual minor wars,
Parliament was in the midst of an important debate upon the second
reading of a measure to secure an extension of the franchise, and a
divorce case of more than common interest was engaging the attention of
the leading legal lights of the law courts. But all these things
received but the scantiest notice. The war news was relegated to the
inside pages, the Parliamentary intelligence cut down to the barest
summary, the _cause célèbre_ dismissed with such a paragraph as
ordinarily serves to chronicle an unimportant police court case. The
Motor Pirate had nearly a monopoly of the space at the editorial
disposal. There was column after column about him. The Plymouth robbery
was reported in as great detail as the Compton Chamberlain affair, while
there were particulars of two similar outrages committed at points
between these two places.

On running my eye over the reports I saw that they added nothing to what
I already knew, and I wasted no time in reading the leaders on the
subject. I was, however, extremely interested to find from one paper
that Winter and I had not been the only victims of the scoundrel's
rapacity on the previous evening, for a brief telegram reported a
similar occurrence a few miles from Oxford on the London road. I at once
sent my man to purchase any of the early editions of the evening papers
which might have reached St. Albans, in the hope that they might contain
further particulars of these operations.

I had finished my breakfast, and was enjoying a cigarette in my library,
when he returned. I took the papers from him, and the first glance at
one of them made me gasp with amazement. The news which startled me was
all in one line--"Five more cars held up by the Motor Pirate."

I am not going into details concerning these. If you have a desire to
refresh your memory all you have to do is to turn to any newspaper of
the date I have named and you will be able to get them _ad nauseam_. But
I will venture to give a list of the places where and the times at which
the outrages took place, for I made a list of them in the hope that, by
carefully studying it with the map, I might get some idea as to where he
might next be expected to make his appearance.

I found that at five minutes past nine he stopped a car some four miles
from Oxford. Twenty minutes later he was robbing a lonely motorist
midway between Thame and Aylesbury. Then for forty minutes he appeared
to have been idle, his next two exploits taking place within five
minutes of each other, just after ten, in the neighbourhood of Amersham.
King's Langley was the scene of his next adventure, the time given being
about a quarter of an hour before he had overtaken us. In addition to
the particulars of these robberies there were a host of reports from
people who had seen the Pirate car pass them on the road. But there was
one notable omission from the latter list. Not from a single town was
there any record of the Pirate having been seen passing through it.

I got a map of the district, and, after studying the country carefully,
I was fain to confess that one of two things was certain: either the
Motor Pirate had the power to make his car invisible at will, or else he
had a truly phenomenal knowledge of the bye-roads. How he had even
managed to get to Oxford, after his exploits in the West of England,
without arrest, puzzled me. The car was so unique in shape that it
seemed bound to excite observation. It could not have been put up at any
hotel, any more than it could have been run through the country by
daylight, without exciting remark and its presence being chronicled.
What, then, had he done with it? The more I pondered the question the
more puzzled I became, and at the same time the more determined to seek
a solution of the mystery. But how? I made a dozen plans, all of which,
upon consideration, appeared so futile, that I gave up the game in
despair, and decided to see if my brain would not become clearer after I
had paid my promised visit to Colonel Maitland.

I did not find Miss Maitland alone, as I expected, or I might probably
have been tempted to confide my experience to her, and to have asked the
assistance of her woman's wit in putting me on the track of a solution
to the mystery. Mannering was with her. When I made my appearance in the
drawing-room, and found him enjoying a _tête-à-tête_, I cursed myself
for delaying my call and thus giving him such an opportunity. My temper
was not improved either by the discovery that they were sufficiently
engrossed in conversation to have been able very well to dispense with
my presence. I did not feel called upon to leave Mannering a clear
field, however, so I joined in the discussion, and tried my hardest to
be pleasant.

Of course, there was only one possible topic of conversation, the theme
which was uttermost in every one's mind throughout the length and
breadth of the land. It was a difficult subject for me to discuss, and
in a measure it was a difficult subject for Mannering, inasmuch as it
was hard to refrain from reference to the personal experience we had had
with the Motor Pirate. It became increasingly difficult, when a few
minutes after my arrival Colonel Maitland joined us.

"It was lucky for him he did not meet us, hey, Sutgrove?" said the
Colonel. "You, Winter, and myself, would soon settle a Motor Pirate,
wouldn't we?"

I muttered something which would pass for an assent, while Mannering
shot an amused smile in my direction.

"I wonder though we saw nothing of him," continued Maitland; "he must
have been very near us last night."

"He seems to have been everywhere," I answered.

"He has the ubiquity of a De Wet," said Mannering.

"I hope I shall have a chance of meeting him sometime," I continued
grimly.

Colonel Maitland chuckled. "Heavens! What a fire-eater you are,
Sutgrove. One might almost take you for a sub in a cavalry regiment."

I made no answer, and Miss Maitland remarked--"I think that is very
unkind of you. You spoke of the Motor Pirate as if you owed him a
grudge. I think we all ought to be supremely thankful to him for having
made the wettest day we have had this year pass quite pleasantly."

Bear him a grudge? I should think I did, but at the same time, I had no
intention of confessing the reason, so I said--

"Then we'll drink long life and prosperity to him the next time we have
a bottle of that same port your father approved so highly last night."
Then I turned to the Colonel, and made a clumsy attempt to turn the
subject of conversation. "Is your verdict upon my restaurant equally
favourable to-day, sir?"

Colonel Maitland's eyes twinkled. "I have nothing to regret. As for the
port with which we finished, it seems to me the sort of stuff dreams are
made of. Do you know that the glass I drank--was it one glass or
two?--gave me the most vivid dream I have enjoyed since my childhood?"

"Indeed! Let's hear it, Colonel," I replied.

"Do tell us," said his daughter, as she rose from her seat, and put her
arms coaxingly round her father's neck. "Do tell us like a real, good,
kind, old-fashioned parent."

The Colonel passed his hand lovingly over his daughter's sunny hair.

"Sutgrove and Mannering don't want to hear about an old fellow's silly
dreams," he said. "Besides, it was all about the Motor Pirate, and I can
see that Sutgrove for one is quite sick of the subject."

I was, and I wasn't, but I speedily declared that I was not when I saw
that his daughter was bent upon hearing the story. So he started upon a
prosy description as to how the fresh air had sent him to sleep, not
saying a word about the port, and I ceased to listen to him, preferring
to devote the whole of my attention to his daughter, who had seated
herself upon a footstool at his feet, and was looking up into his face
with a pretty affectionate glance in her deep blue eyes, enough to set
any one longing to be the recipient of similar regard. Her form,
attitude, expression, all made so deep an impression upon me, that I
have only to close my eyes at any time to see her just as she was
then--the little witch! She knew full well how to make the most of her
attractions, and though she has often declared since to me that the pose
was quite unpremeditated, I could never quite believe her.

However that may be, I was so fascinated in watching her--there was one
stray curl which lay like a strand of woven gold upon her brow. Confound
it! It's all very well for the fellow who writes fiction for a living to
write about people's emotions. He is cold himself. If he were like me,
and wished to describe his own feelings, he might find himself in the
same difficulty as myself, and give up the attempt.

The Colonel's voice droned on. Suddenly I awoke to the consciousness
that he was speaking of me. I think it was the fact of his daughter
looking at me which recalled me to attention.

"Sutgrove had just looked back to see if I was comfortable, when he saw
another car on the road behind us. We had not long passed through
Radlett. You know the straight stretch of road just past the new Dutch
barn on the left----"

My attention did not wander any more, and you may imagine my
astonishment at hearing the Colonel describe in minute detail everything
which had befallen us upon the previous evening. He could tell a story
when he liked, and on this occasion his description of the shamefaced
manner in which Winter had scrambled out of his car, and had handed over
his valuables to the Motor Pirate, was so ludicrous that I was
compelled to laugh at the description. When my turn came to be
described, Miss Maitland and Mannering were just as much amused, but I
am afraid that my attempt to participate in their mirth was rather
forced.

When the story was done, Miss Maitland rose from her seat at her
father's feet, and, putting a hand on each of his shoulders--

"You dear, delightful old fibber!" she remarked. "I don't believe you
dreamed that at all. You couldn't." Then she wheeled round on me. "Now
tell me, Mr. Sutgrove, didn't that dream of father's really happen to
you last night?"

What course was open to me but confession? I admitted the truth of the
story, and the Colonel was so choked with merriment, that I feared lest
he should be stricken with apoplexy.

"The cream of the joke," he explained, when he recovered his powers of
speech, "was that neither Winter nor Sutgrove had the slightest idea
that I was foxing. I intended to inform them directly we were clear of
the Pirate; but when I heard them discussing the matter, and determining
to keep silence out of tenderness for my reputation, I could not resist
keeping up the joke."

"I should think it was their own reputations they were thinking about,"
said his daughter. "To submit so tamely to one man is not a very heroic
proceeding."

I heard Mannering chuckle, and I felt mad. But I fancy it was not
Mannering's amusement, but my own consciousness of the truth of the
criticism that galled.

Colonel Maitland came to my rescue. "I thought they were very sensible,"
he said. "Even a cripple with a gun is better than six sound Tommies
unarmed."

"Sensible--yes," she replied scornfully. "But there are times when one
prefers a little less sense, and a little more--shall we say action. I
am sure you would not have obeyed so tamely?" she continued, turning to
Mannering.

He smiled, and I felt as if it would give me exquisite pleasure to catch
him by the throat, and twist the smile out of his dark, handsome face.

"Really, Miss Maitland," he replied, "you flatter me. You should not be
too hard on Sutgrove. I am sure that it was only the full comprehension
of his own helplessness which prevented him making a fight of it. What
could he have done?"

"Oh, a man should always know what to do!" she answered petulantly. "Has
any one ever tried to hold you up?"

"Well, yes," he answered. "Once when I was out in the west of the
States, some of the regulation bands tried the game on a train in which
I was travelling. But then, you see, the conductor in the railway-car in
which I happened to be seated had a six-shooter. So had I. The other
passengers got as near the floor as they possibly could when the
shooting began. I was in pretty good practice in those days, don't you
know, so the other chaps didn't get much of a look in. We took the four
they left behind them when they bolted on to the next station with us.
Three of them were buried there, if I remember aright."

"There," said Miss Maitland, with an unmistakable look of admiration in
her eyes; "I knew you were different."

"But then I was armed. If I had not been, I should have been on the
floor with the other passengers."

In reply she merely gave him one glance. Mannering returned it with one
equally eloquent. I rose, and stalked to the window. To me Mannering's
championship was an aggravation which I could not bear. Harder still was
it for me to observe the understanding which obviously existed between
him and Miss Maitland. Hitherto I had imagined that I had as good a
chance of winning her love as he had. But at this moment I felt that my
hopes had been shattered.

I think if I had remained a moment longer in the room, I should have
been unable to restrain an impulse to knock some of the self-sufficiency
out of my rival. I left.

Colonel Maitland followed me out, and I heard him ask me to dine with
him on the following day to wipe off the score he owed me.

Without thinking, I accepted. Then I went out into the rain.



CHAPTER VI

I AM ARRESTED


AS I went away from the Maitlands' house I looked neither to the right
hand nor to the left. Where I went, whether I trudged along the high
road or tramped across country, I have not to-day the slightest idea. I
was so enveloped in my own misery, that I was absolutely blind to all
external objects. I could think of nothing but my dead hopes. So onward
I went, stumbling and splashing through the mud, cursing Mannering,
cursing the Motor Pirate, above all cursing myself for my own
pusillanimity. Why had I listened to Winter? Why should I have allowed
myself to be persuaded to play the part of coward, merely that Winter's
car should have been saved from injury?

For a long while my thoughts were as aimless as my progress, but
gradually out of the incoherence one idea crystallized. It was not an
idea to be proud of. My bitterness of heart produced the natural result,
that was all--a burning desire to be revenged upon somebody. I
contemplated revenging myself upon everybody who had anything to do with
my discomfiture, upon Mannering, upon Colonel Maitland, upon the Motor
Pirate. Finally my choice settled upon the person of the Pirate as the
most suitable object; for, next to myself, he was primarily responsible
for my having made so contemptible a figure.

Of course the decision was absurd. Decisions that are the outcome of any
strong emotion usually are. But it fulfilled a useful purpose. It gave
my mind something else to feed upon than contemplation of my own
unhappiness. It brought me to myself.

To-day I can laugh when I recall the childishness of my actions, the
outcome of the unreasoned promptings of my puerile jealousy. For when I
came to the conclusion to avenge my sufferings upon the Motor Pirate, I
suddenly became aware that it was pitch dark; that I was in the middle
of a field; that I was soaked to the skin; that the rain was still
falling heavily; and that I had not the slightest idea where I was.
However, I added one more to the acts of folly I committed that day: I
solemnly held up my hands to the dripping heavens and registered my vow
of revenge. Then I pushed on again, but with my physical faculties on
the alert to discover where I was.

I began, too, to feel the discomfort of my position, and became sensible
of a sneaking wish to be before a comfortable fire. I crossed two or
three fields, and eventually coming to a road I followed it, and, after
paddling through the mud half a mile further, I struck a village, and in
the village an inn.

When I opened the door and walked into the cheerful lamplight of the
bar-parlour, the half-dozen occupants of the cosy little room stared at
me with astonishment. Well they might. I caught a glimpse of my
reflection in the glass behind the bottles--if you have ever seen a
corpse fished up by the drags from a river bed, you will be able to form
some idea of the appearance I presented--so that I did not resent their
stare. In fact, I was not in a condition to be able to pay much
attention to the curious glances of the villagers. The warmth of the
room together with the sudden cessation of exertion were for the moment
too much for me, and it was as much as I could do to stagger to the
nearest chair.

Fortunately the landlord was a man with some modicum of common sense. I
am quite sure that I should have been unceremoniously ejected from nine
public houses out of ten. But mine host of the White Horse--I learned
afterwards that he had been whip to a well-known hunt in the West
country--was able to distinguish between fatigue and drunkenness, and he
came at once to my assistance. I heard him speak to me, but I was
totally unable to respond. For a while indeed I must have verged upon
unconsciousness, for the next thing of which I became aware was of a
glass at my lips containing something sweet and strong.

I sipped. Then I drank. My consciousness returned. In a couple of
minutes I could sit upright. The landlord was beaming at me with
benevolent interest.

"Take another sup, sir," he said. "There's nothing like maraschino and
gin when one is a bit overwrought. I've known many a gentleman in my
part of the country who would take nothing else, after a hard day to
hounds, to brace him up for those long ten miles home."

I took another sup, and a good one. Then my powers of speech returning,
I asked where I was. I found I had not wandered nearly so far as I
expected. I was barely six miles from my home--at King's Langley; but
this fact was no criterion of the distance I must have traversed in my
mad frenzy, for I saw by the clock that the hour was ten. It was about
five when I left Colonel Maitland's house, so that I had been pressing
onward for five hours in as wild a night as any on which I have ever
been abroad.

I leaned back in my chair with the object of resting a few minutes
before starting homewards. But, whether owing to the spirit I had
swallowed, or to the heavy exertion I had undergone, or merely because
of my intense mental fatigue, I felt drowsiness overcoming me so rapidly
that I perceived it would never do for me to give way to it. Pulling
myself together I rose to my feet, at the same time thrusting my hand
into my pocket for the money to pay for my drink. The mere act of
rising, however, was almost too much for me. My body felt as stiff as if
I had been beaten all over. Only to move was absolute physical pain. I
looked at the landlord.

"I'm afraid I am more knocked up than I thought. Can you manage a hot
bath and a bed for me to-night?" I asked.

He glanced at me curiously, and, after a moment's consideration, he
replied--

"I'll see what the missus'll say."

Luckily "the missus" said "Yes," so ten minutes later I was sluicing hot
water over my aching limbs with a stable sponge in the bath which, I
suspect, did duty on ordinary occasions for the family washing. Whatever
it was, it did excellently well for my purpose. Gradually a delicious
feeling of relaxation stole over me. I tumbled between the sheets and
was asleep even before my host entered my room to take away my soaked
clothing to be dried.

My sleep might have lasted one second. In point of fact I slept until
nine o'clock the next morning, and should have continued to sleep if I
had not felt a hand on my arm shaking me, and heard a voice bidding me
arise. Fancying I was at home, and that my man was calling me, I said,
"All right, Wilson," and turned over for another snooze.

"Now then, get up out of that!" said the voice. "None of your shamming!
We are not to be put off that way."

It was not Wilson's voice. Wondering what was happening, I sat up in bed
and rubbed my eyes sleepily.

"What the deuce----!" I began. Then I stopped suddenly. A couple of
constables in uniform stood at the bedside, and I gathered that it was
the voice of the sergeant which had so rudely disturbed my slumbers.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"You know well enough," replied the sergeant. "You make haste and dress
yourself and come along with us."

I thought my senses had deserted me.

"What in the name of good fortune for?" I asked.

"You're not going to kid us, my good feller," he answered. Adding
facetiously, "If we puts a name to it and calls it piracy on the 'igh
road, I wonder what you'll 'ave to say to it, remembering, of course,
that anything you do say will be taken down and used in evidence against
you."

Then all that had happened flashed across my mind; my strange appearance
and arrival at the inn; my peculiar manner; my possession of plenty of
money; the curious glances of the village folk; the fact that somewhere
in the vicinity the Motor Pirate had last been seen. Under the
circumstances, nothing could be more likely than that the bucolic
intelligence should jump to the conclusion that I was the famous
criminal. To me, however, the idea seemed so absurd that I fell into
hearty laughter. My merriment seemed to annoy the sergeant, for he
declared crossly that if I did not dress quickly, he would find himself
under the necessity of taking me away as I was.

I thought it expedient to temporize, and as a result of a little
diplomacy, in which one of the coins from my pocket found another
resting-place, I obtained permission to breakfast before I left.

I made a hearty meal, the landlord attending upon my wants. I was glad
to see that he, at least, had no hand in thrusting upon me the indignity
of being arrested. He explained as much, telling my captors they were
making idiots of themselves. As he seemed trustworthy, I gave him
Winter's address, with instructions to wire to him, telling him of my
predicament, and asking him to come to my assistance.

Necessarily I gave the instructions in the presence of the policemen,
and directly I had done so I could see that their cocksureness was
shaken. They became more polite in their attitude, and the sergeant took
the trouble to explain that he was acting under instructions, and had no
option but to insist upon my accompanying him to Watford.

Into Watford I went accordingly. I am not going to dwell in any detail
upon the incidents of the journey; I am naturally of a retiring
disposition, and every circumstance attending my progress was in the
nature of an outrage upon my diffidence. For instance, upon my departure
from the inn, the whole of the population from King's Langley, so far as
I could judge, had gathered about the door of the White Horse to give me
a send-off. The crowd was in no sense a hostile one. The majority of its
component parts, especially the more youthful units, seemed indeed to
view me with admiration not unmixed with envy. Only one yokel expressed
disbelief in my identity.

"Ee ain't no pirut," he declared with unconcealed disdain, as he spat
into the gutter. "Anybody can see he's only a toff."

I scarcely knew whether to be pleased with his conclusion or angry that
he should find my personal appearance so unimpressive; and before I
could make up my mind on the subject, I was seated in the trap provided
for us and driven away seated between the two constables.

Our entry into Watford was still more in the nature of a triumph. Long
before we reached the county police office I was wild enough, at being
made such an exhibition of, to have given ten years of my life for the
chance of punching the head of any one of the throng of gaping
onlookers. Then, as a culminating blow to my pride, who should we meet
at a point in the High Street where it was impossible to avoid
recognition, but my rival Mannering in his trumpery old motor-car,
accompanied by--above all persons in the world, the one I least desired
to see--Miss Maitland.

I ground my teeth with rage, and as I alighted and followed the sergeant
into the police station, I wished that I were the Motor Pirate in
reality.

When I reached the presence of the officer in charge of the station I
just managed to control my temper, though I fancy there must have been
traces of my rage still visible in my voice as I demanded to know why a
peaceable citizen should be subjected to such ignominy.

The inspector in reply merely asked me for my name and address.

Before meeting Miss Maitland I had cherished the hope that my identity
would not be disclosed, but now I had no further reason for desiring to
conceal it, I gave both at once.

The inspector quietly made a note of them, while another man in plain
clothes, who was standing gazing out of the window, suddenly turned on
me with the inquiry--

"How comes it, Mr. Sutgrove, that living at St. Albans you should choose
to spend the night at a little inn at King's Langley?"

"I suppose I am at liberty to sleep where I like?" I retorted.

"Perfectly so," replied the stranger. "You will have no difficulty, I
presume, in proving your identity?"

"Not the slightest," I said. "In fact I have already wired to a friend
of mine--Mr. Winter, of Hailscombe, St. Albans--to come here for the
purpose."

"I know Mr. Winter very well," said the inspector.

The stranger looked at me keenly, and when his scrutiny was completed he
fell to whistling a bar of Chopin's _Marche Funèbre_. Then he turned to
his colleague in uniform.

"It's no go," he said. "This is not our man." Again he turned to me. "I
am Inspector Forrest of Scotland Yard, detailed for special duty in
connection with this Motor Pirate affair. Unfortunately I did not reach
Watford until after arrangements had been made to bring you here, or----
I hope you will not take it amiss if we detain you until Mr. Winter's
arrival."

This gave me the opening I had been wishing for, and I took it. I said a
lot more than I can recall now, though I can remember a good deal. Most
of it was to the effect that I would make somebody pay dearly for the
annoyance to which I had been subjected.

Inspector Forrest listened patiently to me until I had finished.

"Come, come, Mr. Sutgrove!" he said then. "You must not bear any malice.
Surely you must admit that appearances were not altogether in your
favour," and he detailed to me the information which had led to my
arrest. "You see," he said in conclusion, "that practically we had no
option in the matter."

I dissented from his view. He said a word to the inspector in uniform,
who left us alone in the room. Then he came close to me and remarked in
a confidential tone.

"The fact is, our friend, who has just left us, has been too
precipitate. You can make things exceedingly unpleasant for him if you
like; but frankly, is it worth while? Think it over a little, bearing in
mind that if we are to get hold of the Motor Pirate, we must take the
chance of capturing the wrong man, since there is no description of him
obtainable. You will not be the only one, I'll swear."

Since I had relieved my mind I felt better. Besides I was rather
attracted by the personality of the man who was speaking to me. He did
not at all fulfil my idea of a detective. He was a tall, slight, stiffly
built man, with a pleasant open face and an agreeable manner. I saw,
too, that I had only my own folly to blame for the predicament in which
I now found myself.

In another ten minutes he was smoking one of my cigars and we were
chatting confidentially. Before twenty had elapsed, I had confided to
him not only Winter's and my own experience with the Motor Pirate, but
also the chain of events which had led to my spending the night at the
inn. He was exceedingly sympathetic and quite grave throughout, though
he appeared more interested in the encounter with the Pirate than in the
account of my mental tortures. However, when I told him of my vow, he
brightened up and asked me if I was still determined to keep it.

I had just assured him that I would willingly spend the rest of my life
in the quest, when the other inspector entered the room and with him
Winter. The latter came straight across to me and held out his hand, and
never in my life was I so glad to see his honest face and beaming smile.

"What have you been up to now, Sutgrove?" he remarked. "Not emulating
the deeds of the Motor Pirate?"

"The police have somehow arrived at the conclusion that I am that
distinguished person himself," I replied ruefully.

He roared with laughter. It was infectious. There was no help for it.
The two inspectors joined in the merriment, and the last of my anger was
borne away on the flood.

There was of course no question of my further detention. In a few
minutes I was seated beside Winter in his car, and we were making the
mud fly as we dashed towards St. Albans.

Inspector Forrest accompanied us. I had promised to find him some lunch
if he would do so, and to drive him back afterwards, and he was glad of
the opportunity of obtaining from us such particulars as we could
furnish him with concerning the person of whom he was in search.



CHAPTER VII

I MAKE FRIENDS WITH INSPECTOR FORREST, C.I.D.


"THE telegraph," said Inspector Forrest, sententiously "is even more
speedy than the Motor Pirate."

"Unless you want to send a message from Regent Street to the City," I
remarked; "in which case one would save time by employing a sloth as
messenger."

The inspector waved aside the objection as frivolous. He occupied an
easy chair opposite me; he was smoking one of my best cigars with every
sign of active enjoyment; he sipped his glass of claret--he rarely
touched anything stronger, he informed me--with the air of a
connoisseur.

"We shall beat him with the telegraph," said he. "Clearly he has one
retreat where he can put up his car in safety. Probably he has more than
one. It is not impossible for him to have several. There might even be a
number of Motor Pirates, members of the same gang, but selecting
different parts of the country upon which to prey. The telegraph will
soon settle these points for us. When next he makes his appearance we
shall be able to keep watch upon him, to note, if not the exact spot,
at least in what part of the country he makes his appearance. Even if it
should be found impossible to arrest him in his progress, he is bound to
leave some traces behind him which will enable us to get upon his
track."

"He does not seem to have left many behind him at present," I replied.

"No," said the inspector thoughtfully, as he rose and examined the map
spread out upon the table. "Yet there are certainly grounds for
believing that he has gone to earth somewhere in this neighbourhood. The
Hertfordshire police may have been nearer the mark than you thought when
they arrested you."

"You don't mean to say that you still suspect me?" I cried.

"Not for one instant," he answered promptly. "The meaning I meant to
convey was that, quite unknown to you, the Motor Pirate may very well be
your near neighbour. I suppose there is no one residing near whom you
would consider a likely object of suspicion?"

There flashed across my mind the strange similarity between Mannering's
voice and the Motor Pirate's. But the notion was so absurd I was ashamed
to mention it. I assured the inspector I knew of no one.

"At all events, my belief is strong enough to keep me in this district
until I hear something further," he declared, as he finished the
contents of his glass and glanced at his watch.

Just then I caught sight of Mannering coming up the path through the
garden towards my front door.

"You had better stay a little longer," I said to the inspector. "Here is
another man coming who may be able to give you some more details of the
Pirate. He has seen him, and as he has been a longer resident here than
myself, he may be able to tell you more about the people round than I
can."

"A motorist?" he asked.

"Yes, named Mannering," I replied. "He is the man I told you about, whom
I consider to be my rival, you know."

The inspector's eyes twinkled. "I shouldn't let him drive me into any
more adventures like last night's, Mr. Sutgrove," he advised. "If you
were ten years older--my age, you know--you wouldn't need the warning, A
bout of rheumatic fever would be small consolation for the loss of the
lady."

I could not reply, for at that moment Mannering entered.

"Glad to see you home again, Sutgrove," he said heartily. "I'm not the
only one either. Miss Maitland asked me to call, for after seeing you in
such bad company this morning---- Hullo! I beg your pardon, I thought
you were alone." He stopped suddenly on catching sight of Inspector
Forrest.

I introduced my guest and Mannering acknowledged the introduction
easily.

"Inspector Forrest will assure you that I have only been unfortunate
enough to have been the object of our local constabulary's misplaced
zeal. They took me for our mutual friend the Motor Pirate."

"Did they though? What an almighty spoof!" said Mannering. "First time I
ever heard of a man being run in for robbing himself on the high-road.
Beats Gilbert!"

"Mr. Sutgrove did not see the point of the joke at first," said the
inspector. I saw that as he spoke he was taking note of Mannering in
much the same way as he had taken stock of me at the police office.

Mannering appeared to be quite unconscious of his regard, for he
replied--

"Don't suppose I should have relished such a mistake myself. Anyway," he
continued, turning to me, "you have the consolation of knowing that you
are not the only victim of police enterprise. I see from the papers
quite half a dozen motor pirates have been run in. They may have the
real one amongst them; but as his car has so far escaped capture, I
doubt it."

"So do I," I remarked. "And for the additional reason that I have a sort
of presentiment that when his capture is brought about, I am going to
have a hand in it."

"What do you say to that, Inspector?" he answered. "Are you going to
leave the job to amateurs?"

"I never said 'no' to the offer of assistance in running down a
criminal," was the reply.

"I have sworn," I remarked obstinately, "that I will not rest until he
is safe under lock and key."

"You had better be prepared," answered Mannering. "I should judge him to
be a bit of a fighter."

"Next time I meet him, I'll take all risks to come to close quarters," I
continued.

"You haven't a car to do a hundred miles an hour, have you?" he said in
a bantering voice.

"My plan is a simple one. I merely propose to go out for night rides
until he finds me," I said.

"I had some thoughts of amusing myself in the same way," he answered.
"But, judging from your experience this morning, the only thing likely
to happen is being arrested on suspicion."

"I'll take my chance of that," I said. "But before discussing the
matter, perhaps you could tell Inspector Forrest whether there's any
spot in this neighbourhood likely to serve as a hiding-place for the
Pirate's car?"

A smile lit up Mannering's face. "There's the old coach-house at the
bottom of the paddock next to my cottage. It has a door opening on to
the main road. There would be room, too, in my stables, if I had not
fitted them up as workshops for my tyre experiments."

"Stop rotting," I said, "the inspector really means it."

He became grave instantly. "Sorry I can't suggest a likely spot," he
said, and then for a few minutes he answered the questions the detective
put to him as to what he had seen of the Pirate.

He could give little information of any value, and when Inspector
Forrest had elicited all that he could, he thanked Mannering and rose to
depart. I accompanied him to the garden gate. He appeared a little loth
to leave me. Twice he turned away and returned to make some objectless
remark to me. The third time he blurted out--

"About that suggestion of yours--taking night rides on the chance of
being held up----"

"Yes?" I said and waited.

"I wish I had a good fast car at my disposal," he continued earnestly;
"but the Yard would never run to it."

I felt a pleasant thrill run through me. It would be good to have his
companionship and assistance in working out my self-imposed vow.

"If you can make use of it, I will see that the best car money can buy
is placed at your disposal," I replied eagerly.

He took my hand and shook it warmly. "I'll see what my chief says," he
replied. "When can I see you again?"

"I shall be leaving here at eight and returning well--between ten and
eleven."

"Expect me about midnight," he said, and without another word or
backward glance he stepped out in the direction of St. Albans.

I returned to Mannering, who did not, however, favour me with a very
lengthy visit. Possibly he found my manner rather cool, but the fact
was, that try as I would to curb my feelings, I could not but resent
something of an air of proprietorship which I thought appeared in his
tone when referring to Miss Maitland.

When he had departed, I got out all the catalogues of motor-cars I could
lay my hands upon, and studied them until it was time to dress for
dinner. Several times I thought of breaking the appointment, for I knew
I should have to give some explanation of my arrest, and how to do so
without appearing an egregious ass I did not know. Finally I determined,
if the opportunity were afforded me, to tell the exact truth, at least
to the only person whose opinion I cared about.

I was glad afterwards that I had not sent my excuses, for I was lucky
enough to find Miss Maitland alone in the drawing-room when I arrived.
It seemed, too, as if she had determined to make amends for the mental
torture she had unwittingly caused me the previous evening. So it
happened that when she questioned me as to how I managed to get into
such a predicament, I told her as clearly as I could of the state of my
feelings. It was a blundering, halting statement I made, of that I am
certain, and before I had completed it Colonel Maitland's entry closed
my mouth. But I think she understood, for there was a little flush on
her cheek when we went into dinner which had not been there when I
greeted her, and a pretty air of seriousness in the glances she bestowed
upon me, which I had never noticed before.

As far as the Colonel was concerned, he did not worry me for any
explanations. He was bent on enlarging my knowledge of gastronomy, and
having a new cook, he was much too deeply interested in the _menu_ to
spare any thoughts for my erratic movements. I am afraid, though, his
teaching was wasted on me; for while I managed to reply to his
conversation, I had not the slightest idea what I was eating. My
principal longing was to get the meal over in order that I might finish
the conversation which had opened so auspiciously. The opportunity was
not afforded me on that occasion, however, but the evening did not pass
without my obtaining a glimmering of hope.

When Miss Maitland rose I asked her, in a voice which was low enough not
to reach her father's ear, whether she would answer me one question.

"What is it?" she said, and her face flushed a little as she came to the
door.

"Is there any one else?" I asked, my hand on the knob.

"What right have you to ask?" she answered.

"No right, I only ask it of your mercy," I replied.

She hesitated, then with flushed cheeks and a soft whispered "No one,"
she escaped through the door.

Over the port I took my new-found courage in both hands, and asked the
Colonel's consent to my suit. I gained it. He even expressed the hope
that I should succeed, but he warned me at the same time that I must not
depend upon him for any assistance. He declared himself to be clay in
the hands of his daughter.

"Evie always had her own way from the cradle," he declared, "and always
will have her own way. If I were to say that I thought you would make
her a good husband, I'm not sure whether she would not consider it a
sufficient excuse to accept Mannering straight away. Personally I should
much prefer you, but there's no counting on a woman's tastes, either in
men or wines. And Evie is a perfect woman, God bless her!"

I drained my glass to the toast and made an excuse to get away to the
drawing-room. But I did not see her alone again that evening. Winter and
his wife had walked over. Mannering did not put in an appearance, and
his absence was something to be thankful for; and when I held her hand
in mine as I bade her good night, I said--

"You have told me there is no one else. Is there any hope for me?"

She made no pretence of misunderstanding my meaning. She looked at me
saucily, her lips parted lightly, her eyes brimming with laughter.

"Come and ask me when--when you have caught the Motor Pirate," she said,
and with that answer I was fain to be content.

Thus it happened that I found myself fully committed to the work which
was at that time engaging the attention of the whole of the police
throughout the land. I welcomed the task. Luck might be on my side,
especially if my new friend the detective inspector's assistance proved
to be available.

And as regards assurance on this point, I had not long to wait before my
mind was at ease. I found him awaiting me at my garden gate when I
returned home. I invited him in so eagerly that he smiled.

"There's no need to ask if you are still as keen on this job as you were
this afternoon," he said, as he entered my snuggery.

"Keener than ever," I asseverated.

"Then I hope between us we may be successful in running our man to
ground."

"Have you heard anything further?" I inquired, anxiously.

"Nothing of the slightest value. A number of people have been through
our hands, but of the Pirate--not a sign."

"Perhaps we shall get a clue in the morning," I hazarded.

"At present," he declared, "there's not a shred of a clue to work upon.
Of course at any moment information may come to hand. He may endeavour
to dispose of some of his plunder, or he may reappear, but until
then----"

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

"I shall stay and thoroughly explore this district until I hear
something further," he answered.

"I am thinking of going into town in the morning, to see if a more
powerful car than the one I possess at present is to be obtained," I
told him later. "I am hoping to get one capable of doing fifty or even
sixty miles an hour at a pinch, so as to be prepared for emergencies.
Meanwhile, if you like to make this house your headquarters, I shall be
delighted to put you up."

"Do you really mean that, Mr. Sutgrove?" he asked.

"Of course I do," I replied.

He hesitated a moment, then he accepted my invitation. Luck was on my
side after all.



CHAPTER VIII

MURDER


I LEARNED to know Inspector Forrest very well during the next fortnight,
better perhaps, since during that time the Motor Pirate gave absolutely
no sign of existence. It seemed as if, contented with the sensation he
had created and the plunder he had secured, he had retired into the
obscurity from which he originally emerged.

For two reasons I was not sorry for this interval. In the first place, I
found I could not get immediately the type of car I wanted.
Manufacturers and agents were willing enough to book orders, but none of
them had in stock the high-speed automobile such as I required. Only
after a long day's hunt did I discover an agent who thought that he
could obtain for me a 60-h.p. Mercédès, and then it would have to be
sent from Paris. At my suggestion, he telephoned through an order that
the car should be despatched to him at once; but two or three days
elapsed before its arrival in London, and then there were certain
alterations which I required to be made which took a week to complete. I
was glad, therefore, that my enemy did not make a reappearance until I
was provided for him. When the new Mercédès was delivered to me I was
delighted with it, especially when I found on my return from the trial
run the engines worked as smoothly as when I started.

The other reason why I did not regret the Pirate's quiescence was
because of the opportunity afforded me of cementing the friendship which
had grown up between myself and the detective. It became a very real and
warm friendship during those long idle days. He upset all my
preconceived notions of the police, at least as regards the detective
portion of the force, he was such an all-round man. He had not allowed
his undoubted powers of observation to be entirely concentrated upon the
seamy side of his profession. Judging from his conversation, I gathered
that he knew quite as much about modern French literature as he did
about French criminals, and of the latter his knowledge was both
extensive and interesting. I remember on one occasion that he gave me a
really acute criticism of the Verlain school, with special relation to
the effects of decadent literature on national life. But that is only
one example of his scope. Wherever he had been and whatever he had done,
had apparently awakened in him the desire to see all round the case he
was investigating, and being possessed of a well-trained memory, his
mind was a storehouse of curious knowledge.

Let me give one instance. One evening when we were driving slowly along
a bye-road in the vicinity of Uxbridge, in accordance with our
preconceived plan--the Mercédès had not then arrived, and our progress
was additionally slow as the roads were exceedingly heavy, as rain had
been falling daily ever since the night I had been arrested--suddenly my
companion said--

"Do you know anything of Persian poetry, Mr. Sutgrove?"

As it happened, owing to the fact that a Sutgrove had once represented
his country at the Persian court, I had a slight knowledge of the
subject, and I said so.

"I am never out of doors on a spring evening," he continued, "without
wishing I had the time to acquire a knowledge of it."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's this way," he replied. "On one of my jobs--a show job, attendance
on a distinguished visitor, don't you know--I was thrown a great deal
into the company of a Persian gentleman, and we did our best to learn
something of each other's languages. He taught me out of Hafiz, and I
picked up just enough to make me wish for more. Listen to this."

He recited to me one of the shorter poems from the Divan.

"Isn't that musical?" he continued. "It seems to me to have the real
poetry of the spring evening in it."

I agreed with him, and we were silent for a while. Later he asked me
diffidently not to mention to any one his penchant for Persian poetry.

"Even at the Yard," he explained, "I doubt whether they would put it
down to my credit."

I gave him the assurance he asked for, and from that time forth I came
to look upon him as a personal friend. I confided wholly to him the
hopes I entertained in regard to my love affair; and he assured me that
if he had anything to do with it, I should also have a hand in the
arrest of the Pirate.

All our time was not spent, however, in pleasant excursions about the
country. Forrest was by no means idle; he had been busy perfecting his
scheme for utilizing the telegraph in notifying the Pirate's
reappearance when it should be made. Then he had in addition thoroughly
and minutely explored the whole of the country round, to see if any
trace of the strange visitor were obtainable. His endeavours were quite
fruitless, but he still held to his belief that he could not be far
away; and the next time the Pirate did make his appearance he was
confirmed in his opinion.

The weather had been fine for three days in succession, there had been a
drying breeze, and the roads from sloppy quagmires became in such
perfect condition that I was looking forward to a really good spin. But
Forrest had other views for the evening of the third day.

"I don't think," he remarked, as he sipped his coffee after our early
dinner, "we can afford to spend the night ranging the highways.
Business first and pleasure afterwards."

"I thought you were of opinion that our friend will be tempted to make
his reappearance to-night?" I remarked.

"I am," he answered; "and therefore the best thing, we can do is to wait
until we hear in which direction he makes his reappearance. If we wait
in St. Albans at the end of the telegraph wire, we shall be much more
likely to meet him than running about at random."

There was so much good sense in the suggestion that I resigned myself to
the inevitable waste of time, and I had my reward. About eleven a
message came over the wire: "Motor Pirate seen near Towcester going in
the direction of Daventry."

"How far is Towcester?" asked Forrest, the moment he heard the message.

"Roughly, I should say forty miles," I answered.

"We ought to manage it within the hour, then," he remarked. "Come
along."

Without another word we seated ourselves in the car, and with a
continuous toot-toot of the horn we rolled out of the town. Directly we
were clear of the houses, I jammed on the highest speed. I cannot say
that I felt quite comfortable, for though I knew the road, the night was
very dark, the light we threw ahead was so bright as to dazzle my eyes,
and hitherto I had no experience of driving a 60-h.p. motor at top speed
through the darkness. My companion's _sang-froid_ soon reassured me,
however, and as soon as we were fairly going, the sting of the night air
as it whipped my cheeks brought a sense of exhilaration which would have
sufficed to banish my fears had there been time to have entertained any.
But there was not. If you have ever driven a speedy automobile at top
speed through a dark night, you will readily understand that there is
little opportunity for the brain to cultivate imaginary perils. If you
do not believe me, try it for yourself and see.

In about sixteen minutes we were at Dunstable. Passing through the town
slowly, Forrest got news that the police were watching all the roads,
but that nothing had been seen there of the Pirate. Another quarter of
an hour brought us to Fenny Stratford. Here we wasted another minute or
so in obtaining similar negative information. By this time I was feeling
confidence in my car and in my powers to manage it. Once clear of the
houses again, I let her rip for all she was worth; we simply flew along.
With my right hand on the wheel, my feet on the two pedals, I sat as
tense as a fiddle string, my one object to peer into the road ahead.

We had covered ten of the fifteen miles between Stratford and Towcester,
when I became aware of a deeper blotch on the blackness ahead. With one
movement I pressed down the clutch and jammed on the breaks. I was just
in time. The car pulled up in its own length, though it swerved to such
an extent that I thought we should be overturned.

There, standing still within the circle of our lights, was another
motor-car. It had no lamps burning, but it was shivering with the
vibration of its engine running free.

"The Pirate!" I shouted.

"Not a bit of it," said Forrest, jumping down and approaching the
stranger.

I followed his example, and the first thing I observed about the car was
that all the lights were out, and I wondered that any motorist in his
senses should have courted the accident which so nearly occurred.

There was one occupant of the car, and he was sitting bolt upright with
one hand on a lever beside him. I shouted something at him angrily as I
approached, but he made no response.

"Hullo! Are you asleep, sir?" said Forrest, as he put one foot on the
step and grasped the silent motorist by the arm.

There was no reply. I saw Forrest leave his hold on the stranger, and,
stepping back into the road, draw his hand across his brow.

"My God!" he muttered

"What is it?" I asked.

Forrest caught his breath sharply. "A piece more of the Motor Pirate's
work, I fancy," he said slowly; "and this time, I think it
spells--murder."

For a minute I stood absolutely still. It was one of the most eerie
moments of my life. Above and about us the black night, beside us the
two cars coughing and grunting as if anxious to be moving, and that
silent figure sitting up erect upon his seat, utterly unconscious of
the two persons standing watching him with horror-stricken faces.

Forrest's voice, clear, cool, incisive, brought me to myself.

"One of your lamps here, Sutgrove, if you can manage it."

I took a lamp from its socket, and held it while the detective made a
brief inspection. It took him a very short time to assure him that his
surmise was near the truth.

It was murder.

Right in the centre of the forehead of the silent figure was a small
blue hole, so cleanly drilled that it scarcely marred the features of
the dead man. One hand still grasped the lever, the other had dropped
slightly. When the light fell upon it, I perceived the fingers to be
tightly clasped about the butt of a revolver.

Forrest lifted the hand and glanced at the weapon. "One cartridge
discharged," he said. "Surely it cannot be a case of suicide?"

Just at that moment I caught sight of a piece of paper pinned to the
dead man's coat. I pointed it out to Forrest. He unfolded it, glanced at
it, and handed it to me without a word.

It was just a half sheet of ordinary paper used for typing, and upon it
was typed the following sentence--

"This is the fate awaiting those who venture to resist the Motor
Pirate."

"That would seem to settle the question as to whether this is a case of
suicide or not," I said, handing back the paper to the inspector.

"H'm! At all events the inquest will," he replied. "I'm afraid in any
case this ends our pursuit for the night," he continued. "I think I must
ask you to run on to the nearest town for assistance. Have you any idea
of our whereabouts?"

By calculating the time which had elapsed since leaving Stratford with
the pace at which we had been travelling, I came to the conclusion we
were not very far from Towcester, and I suggested I had better go there.

"All right; cut along then. Revolver handy?"

I replied in the affirmative as I mounted my car.

"Wait one moment," he called as I was starting; "and bring your light on
a bit."

I did as I was directed. Forrest took one of the lamps and walked for
five yards up the road, examining carefully every inch of the roadway.
At last he paused.

"Here is where the Pirate's motor stopped," he said; and, plumping down
upon his knees, he examined the surface carefully. Then, taking a tape
from his pocket, he made a series of measurements.

I inquired what he was doing. He grunted in reply. When he had finished
he remarked--

"Nothing much to be got out of that. Judging from my measurements, our
friend might be driving a Daimler."

Another thought struck him, and, before starting, he asked me to lend
him a hand in getting the other car to the side of the road, in case any
one else came along and fell upon the fate we had so narrowly escaped.
Then I was at liberty to proceed, and, getting once more into my own
vehicle, I let the Mercédès drive ahead.

But my nerve had gone. Every moment I fancied weird shapes in the
blackness before me. Every moment I heard in my ears the strange humming
of the Pirate. Yet I dared not look round, lest I should in that instant
come upon him unawares in the shadows in front.

Fortunately I had no long distance to traverse. Soon friendly lights
broke the darkness. Slackening pace, I found myself in the well-ordered
streets of a little town. The second person I met was a policeman, and,
hailing him, I bade him jump on the car and direct me to the
police-station. Nothing loth, he obeyed.

I have an idea that the story I told the sergeant in charge was more
than a little incoherent, but he understood me sufficiently to become
aware that his presence was required immediately at the scene of a
crime, and he gave me to understand that he was ready to accompany me
forthwith. Then I remembered Forrest asking me to see that the services
of a medical man were obtained, in order that he might make an
examination of the body before its removal, and I mentioned the matter
to the sergeant. He at once gave instructions to the constable who had
guided me to the station to knock up a doctor and follow us at once with
him, so there was very little delay before I was once more driving my
car at full speed towards the scene of the tragedy.

By this time my nerve had returned. One reason may have been that I had
taken advantage of the slight delay, occasioned by the sergeant giving
instructions to his subordinate, to brace myself with a stiff
whisky-and-soda from the small supply I carried on the car for
emergencies. Now, too, I had the companionship of another able-bodied
man on the car with me. I felt that, even if the mysterious murderer
were to make his appearance, I should have a better chance of tackling
him.

We were not long in reaching our destination. In fact a very few minutes
elapsed before we came to the spot where the motor-car stood, with the
rigid figure of its owner still in the position I had left him. I pulled
up beside the derelict.

"Hallo, Forrest!" I shouted.

There was no answer. The detective had disappeared.



CHAPTER IX

EXPLAINS A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE


I SPRANG to the ground by the side of the death-car. It was standing by
the side of the road, just as I had left it, its silent owner sitting
rigidly erect, still grasping the lever, and looking fixedly into the
darkness.

"Forrest! Forrest!" I shouted again.

All was silent as the grave.

It was very strange. He had promised to await my return. I looked at my
watch. Altogether half an hour had not elapsed since my departure. Yet
many things might happen in half an hour with such a spirit of death
abroad as I knew to be hovering around. I shivered.

The police sergeant was as much bewildered at Forrest's disappearance as
myself. On our way, I had explained more fully the circumstances under
which we had discovered the crime which had been committed. He knew my
companion by name and reputation, and he was quite at a loss to explain
his absence.

I scanned the road so far as it was revealed by our lights, half
expecting yet dreading to see his prostrate form. But there was nothing
visible. Each taking a lamp from my car, the sergeant and I set out to
search the hedges and ditches on each side of the road. We did so
conscientiously for a hundred yards up and down the road, and on each
side, but found nothing.

When we got back to the car, the sergeant said to me--

"Perhaps Mr. Forrest has found a clue, and thought he would waste no
time in following it up."

The suggestion seemed feasible enough, but just at that moment my glance
fell on something at my feet which put the idea to flight. Lying on the
road was a large button. I picked it up. I saw at once that it had been
torn violently away from the garment to which it had been attached, for
a piece of the cloth had come away with it, I looked at it narrowly--the
cloth was of the same material as the overcoat Forrest had been wearing.

The button had been almost under the wheels of my car, so I backed the
Mercédès a few yards, and looked about for further traces. In the space
thus laid bare there lay a lamp smashed to pieces. I picked up the
frame, and saw that it was one of the lamps taken from the other motor.
Further search only revealed another button similarly attached to a
shred of cloth like the first one I had found. That was all.

The sergeant looked at me and I at him. One thought was in both our
minds, and we gave utterance to it simultaneously.

"The Motor Pirate has been back again."

"You must have scared him away the first time, and on his return to
complete the job he found the inspector here, and----"

The sergeant did not complete his sentence, but glanced apprehensively
up and down the road.

"If he has returned, I don't see what he can have done with Forrest," I
replied.

"Heaven knows!" the man replied, involuntarily lowering his voice. "I--I
begin to believe that this Motor Pirate is--is the Devil."

"Nonsense, man!" I said sharply.

To tell the truth, my own nerves, in spite of the whisky, were in none
too firm a condition; and I knew it would be fatal to allow myself to
become infected by the very obvious funk which had seized upon my
companion. I felt, however, I must be doing something unless I wanted to
succumb.

"Look here," I said, "you wait by the car a few minutes, while I go two
or three hundred yards further up the road, to see if I can find any
other traces."

"I--I would much rather you--you didn't leave me," stammered the
sergeant. "It's bad enough for there to be only the two of us."

"Come, pull yourself together," I replied roughly. "There's nothing to
be afraid of."

"I don't think I can stand being left here alone," repeated the
sergeant.

"Very well; you had better come along with me then," I replied.

He jumped into the car beside me with alacrity, and I started the motor,
though not until I had arranged my revolver handily at my side. We went
for a mile at our slowest pace in the direction of Stratford, and
finding nothing, we returned, and covered the same distance in the
direction of Towcester, with a similar result. Our progress was brought
to a termination by our meeting with a trap containing the doctor, who
was accompanied by a couple of constables. When we recognized who was
approaching, the change that came over the demeanour of the sergeant was
astonishing. All his courage came back to him. He talked to me quite
easily as we returned to the scene of the outrage with the trap keeping
close behind us; and when we pulled up, he took control of the
proceedings as if he had never felt a moment's tremor in his life. He
must have observed my astonishment, for he took me aside and said--

"I was a bit overcome just now, sir. You won't mention it before my
men."

"Certainly not," I answered. "I was only one degree better myself."

"That's enough to make any one feel creepy," he said, jerking his thumb
towards the silent figure.

We did nothing but stand about and talk in subdued tones, until the
doctor had completed his examination of the silent figure by the light
of my lamps. It did not last long.

"Death was instantaneous," he said, as he stepped down from the car.
"The bullet appears to have passed straight along the longitudinal
sinus, and, as near as I can tell, he must have been dead about an
hour."

"You would like to make a more extensive examination, I suppose,
doctor?" said the sergeant.

"If a suitable place were available," he replied.

The sergeant mentioned an inn at a village not far distant, and, the
doctor acquiescing, arrangements were at once made for conveying the
body there, the sergeant and I setting out in advance to provide for its
reception.

I am not going into any further detail regarding the proceedings of that
night. Indeed I can to-day scarcely recall them. I know that I waited at
the inn for a long while after the melancholy _cortège_ arrived, and
that I felt curiously dazed amidst all the bustle caused by the arrival.
I remember eventually driving the sergeant back to Towcester, and making
to him a long statement, which he took down in writing.

By the time I had completed this statement day had dawned. I shall never
forget my impressions of that early morning as I rode home alone. The
birds were twittering in the hedgerows, a soft white mist hung low down
over the meadows, all nature was so serene and peaceful that it was
difficult to imagine that the night which had passed had been so full of
horror and mystery. I felt as one awakened from a dream. But on my way I
passed the deserted motor-car. A constable was beside it, and I pulled
up to speak to him.

"Seen nothing of Inspector Forrest, I suppose?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

I gave him good morning and got on. I made similar inquiries at Fenny
Stratford, and again at Dunstable, still without result. I comforted
myself with the thought that at St. Albans I should certainly hear news
of him. But no. I found the police wild with excitement, but entirely
without any information as to what had become of the missing detective.
I found, however, that they did not share my forebodings as to anything
serious having happened to him. Their view was that he had discovered
some clue, and was hard upon the track of the murderer. I had to give
them a complete history of the events of the night. But I got away at
last, and reached home as tired as I had ever been in my life.

I took a bath as hot as I could bear it, and went straight to bed. I was
dead beat, and I fell asleep instantly.

I awoke some time in the afternoon, and when I had got the sleep out of
my eyes, and the events of the previous night came back to me, I felt
inclined to curse myself for having thought of resting. I felt certain
that if it had been myself who was missing, Forrest would not have slept
until he had discovered something concerning my fate. I made a hasty
meal while dressing, and ordered my car to be brought round. Directly it
appeared I hurried off to St. Albans.

Nothing had been seen or heard there of Forrest, and once more I set out
upon the road I had traversed the previous night. Again I rode as far as
Towcester. I had a chat with the sergeant of police, and found that,
though search parties had scoured the country round for miles, no
intelligence had been obtained. I made arrangements to appear at the
inquest on the following day, and returned to St. Albans. Still no news.

I got home again about seven, sick at heart. I had counted so much upon
Forrest's assistance in the fulfilment of my vow; but that was only a
secondary consideration now. I had grown to like him so much, that the
idea that he had met with any mischance knocked me over completely. I
went into my study and threw myself moodily into a chair. My man brought
me in some whisky, and hovered about until I told him to go.

"You were going to dine at Mr. Winter's to-night, sir, with Mr.
Forrest," he reminded me.

The engagement had completely passed from my memory.

"I shall be unable to go, Wilson," I said.

"They haven't found Mr. Forrest, then, sir?" said the man respectfully.
He was simply brimming over with curiosity.

"No. I'm afraid we shall never see him alive again," I groaned.

"Dear me! Not so bad as that, I hope, sir," he responded
sympathetically, as he still lingered.

"Not half so bad as that, Wilson," remarked a cheery voice just outside
the door.

My man started, and I jumped to my feet with a shout of welcome.

"Forrest! Forrest!" I cried. "Come along in, man."

"Well, if I may?" replied Forrest's voice.

"If you may!" I answered. "Why--what the----!"

My astonishment at the appearance he presented as he entered the room
choked my further utterance.

The man who entered was a veritable scarecrow. A man with a torn coat
and rent trowsers, and a battered hat which barely held together upon
his head. He was covered from head to foot with mud. His face was dirty,
unshaven, disreputable.

"Forrest? Is it indeed you?" I could not but ask, when my speech
returned to me.

"I don't ask you to recognize me until I have had a bath and a shave,"
he replied. "But when I have sacrificed to Hygeia, I expect to be
presentable enough to dine with Mr. Winter to-night. I've been wondering
all day whether I should manage to get here in time. Meanwhile, the
least spot of whisky----"

I could not express my delight at his return, and unthinkingly I poured
out nearly a tumbler of the neat spirit, and felt almost hurt when he
returned all but one finger to the decanter.

"If you give me a dose like that, I shall certainly be unable to
accompany you," he said.

I could curb my curiosity no longer. I burst out with a string of
questions.

"Where have you been? What has happened to you? Why did you disappear?
How----"

He stopped me. "So that's why you gave me all that whisky. You wanted to
make me talk, eh?"

I laughingly disassociated myself from any such intention, and, putting
the curb on my curiosity, I turned him over to Wilson to be valeted out
of the semblance to a tramp.

The process took some time, and when he came downstairs in
irreproachable evening clothes, there was no time for him to give me the
history of his adventures unless we were to miss our dinner.

"And that," declared Forrest, "I absolutely refuse to do; for, with the
exception of sixpenny worth of rum and a crust of bread and cheese,
nothing has passed my lips since dinner last night."

"Then you will be glad to hear that the Winters are punctual people," I
remarked as we at once set out for my neighbour's house.

"I suppose," he said, as we reached our destination, "I may count upon
you not referring to the plight in which I returned to your place? I
should not care for it to get abroad that the Pirate had got the better
of me on the first occasion of our meeting."

"Then you have seen him?" I cried eagerly.

"Seen him!" Forrest ejaculated in reply. "Seen him! After dinner you
shall have a full, true and particular account of all that's happened.
Until then--well, assume you know everything but are not at liberty to
divulge anything."

I was as much at home in Winter's house as in my own, so I did not
trouble to ring and Forrest followed me in. I had forgotten that his
appearance was likely to create as great a sensation there as it had
caused me. I entered the drawing-room first, Forrest being a little
behind. Mrs. Winter, a fluffy-haired little woman with blue baby eyes,
baby lips, and a most engaging little baby dimple, was the centre of the
party gathered there. The other women were Miss Maitland and Mrs.
Winter's twin sister, who reproduced the hair, lips, eyes and dimple
with such exactness that it was always a puzzle to me how Winter had
managed to make up his mind between them. About them were gathered
Colonel Maitland, Mannering, Winter himself, and another man whom he had
brought down with him from town that day. The subject of conversation, I
learned afterwards, had been entirely devoted to Forrest's
disappearance, and when they caught sight of him the effect was
electrical. The ladies all jumped to their feet, the twin sisters
screamed in unison, the men stood stock still. Mannering appeared to be
the most astonished, for he turned pale and his lips became livid.
Before any one could say a word, however, the door opened again and the
butler announced dinner in an impassive voice, which sent everybody into
convulsions of laughter.

We filed into dinner a particularly merry party. Mrs. Winter had
arranged for me to take in Miss Maitland, and the fact that Mannering
obviously resented the arrangement added a great deal to my good humour.
The fact of Forrest being the lion of the evening did not disturb me at
all. Indeed I was glad some one else had to parry the numberless
questions put to him respecting his disappearance.

He fenced them remarkably well, though of course, when cornered, he
could always fall back upon the excuse of his mouth being closed by the
official pledge of secrecy.

Needless to say, only one topic was mooted, and I should not have
referred to it had not the man whom Winter had brought from town said
something which, I found afterwards, had some bearing on future events.
This person was a diamond merchant in his business hours, and after the
ladies had left us, he expressed the opinion that it was a good thing
the Motor Pirate confined his attentions to fellow motorists.

"If, for instance," he remarked, "he were to take it into his head to
hold up the Brighton Parcels Mail to-morrow night, he would make one of
the best-known firms in Hatton Garden feel very sick."

"How's that?" asked Mannering, carelessly. He had quite recovered from
the temporary shock which Forrest's unexpected appearance had occasioned
him.

"Well, I heard they are sending off a particularly valuable collection
of stones by registered parcel post to-morrow," he answered.

"Seems a silly thing to do," commented Winter.

"I don't know about that," was the reply. "Their theory is that the
chances of robbery are infinitely less than by any other method of
forwarding. They have followed the practice for years, and hitherto have
never made a loss. You see, no one knows anything about it except the
principal, who takes the packet to the post office. He registers it at
St. Martin's, and the packet is immediately placed amongst a number of
parcels of all sorts, shapes and sizes; and the chance of a casual thief
selecting that particular parcel, even if he had the chance, are at
least a hundred to one, while it is well known that the postal employee
who steals always lets the registered letter severely alone."

The subject was not pursued further, and soon after we joined the
ladies. The party broke up early, and I was not sorry, for I could see
Forrest was tired and I wanted to get his story from him before he
turned in. But when we were back in my snuggery, I found that he
considered it necessary to report himself at St. Albans. I was on the
telephone, so I suggested its use, and he jumped at the idea. After some
little difficulty we managed to get a message through to the
police-station. Then settling down into an easy chair with a great sigh
of content, he reeled out an account of his adventures.



CHAPTER X

DESCRIBING A RIDE WITH THE PIRATE


"WHEN you left me," Forrest began, "I thought I would pass the time
until your return in making a still more detailed inspection of the
ground than we had already made. I found I had no lights. In order to
get over the difficulty, I went to the car in which the dead man was
seated and examined the lamps. They were in good working order, and I
could see that their extinction had not been due to any mischance. Why
they should have been put out and the machinery of the car left running
puzzled me. I could only conclude that the Pirate, after shooting his
victim, had approached the car to plunder him, but had been scared away
by the sound of our approach. He must have turned out the lights and
have just had time to draw the car across the road to make a trap for
us, before making his own escape. This impression of mine was confirmed
later. I took one of the lamps from its socket, lit it, and looked again
at the dead body. I am almost certain he had not been disturbed since
the fated bullet struck him. His coat was closely buttoned. His rug was
wrapped tightly round him. There were papers in his coat pocket, and I
could feel through the coat that his watch and chain were still upon
him. When thinking that the Pirate could not be far off, I regretted I
had not accompanied you; but remembering you were well armed, I reckoned
that if you did meet the gentleman, you were quite capable of giving a
good account of yourself--and of him."

You who happen to have read my account of the state of my mind, as
faithfully described in these pages, will be able to judge how far my
friend's confidence in me was justified. For myself, I doubt not that
had he met me, the Pirate would have been able to add a second victim to
that night's list with little difficulty. This by the way.

"I did not make a very close examination," continued Forrest, "since
there would be plenty of time for that when the doctor arrived. Besides,
I wished him to see the body in the position we found it. So I turned my
attention to the road again, going over the surface inch by inch in the
most methodical manner. You never know, you see, whether some trifling
object may not be dropped by the criminal which will provide a clue. I
was so engaged when I became aware of a curious humming sound in the
air. I stood upright and peered into the darkness. But my eyes had
become dazzled by looking at the white road in the brilliant light of
the acetylene lamp, and I might as well have expected to be able to see
through a brick wall. The most sensible course to have pursued would
have been to extinguish the lamp; but, instead of doing so, I stood like
a fool in the middle of the road and waited until the Pirate--it was he
without the slightest doubt--swooped down upon me, and if I had not at
the last moment leaped aside I should have been bowled over. As it was,
I just escaped being knocked down. The car pulled up with a jerk, and
there, within reach, was the person whose capture would have--well, you
can guess what it would have meant to me, if I could have managed to get
him single-handed. But for the moment I was so astounded at the audacity
of the rascal I could do nothing. I was not long in making up my mind to
have a shot at capturing him, however. I dropped the lamp to the ground,
and clipping my hand into my pocket I grasped my revolver. I knew I had
to deal with a desperate character, but I was scarcely prepared to find
him as physically powerful as he proved to be. I stepped up close to the
car and with my left hand made a grab at him. It was a fruitless
attempt. I found my wrist held in a grip of steel. I raised my right
with the revolver. I was just a moment late in pulling the trigger, for
he knocked up my hand and the bullet went wide. Before I had another
chance, he twisted the weapon out of my grasp with a wrench that numbed
my arm to the shoulder. How he managed to see in the dark was a mystery
to me. He must have eyes like a cat--that man."

Forrest paused to light another cigarette, and after a couple of puffs
he resumed--

"But the most startling thing was to come. Holding me tightly he leaned
over towards me and said, 'Not this time, Inspector Forrest. You may
think you have the Motor Pirate, but I can assure you that you were
never more mistaken in your life.' Astonishment is not the name for my
feelings at hearing him address me by my name. I had caught a glimpse of
him before I dropped the lamp, but he was so swathed in his leather coat
and disguised by his mask, that I should never be able to identify him.
But I seemed to recognize something familiar in the intonation of his
voice, yet even that was so muffled that I cannot be certain I have ever
heard it before. However, I did not allow my astonishment to prevent me
taking action. I threw myself suddenly backwards, hoping the weight of
my body would upset his balance and drag him from his car to the ground,
where we should have been on more equal terms. The jerk moved him about
as much as if he had been built into his car. 'No, you don't,
Inspector,' he said, with an infernal chuckle; and, so saying, he leaned
over and, catching me by the coat, lifted me off my feet and swung me up
on to the car before him. I'm not a light weight, as you can guess--I
turn the scale at something nearer twelve stone than eleven--but he
handled me as if I were a baby. I struggled of course, but my right arm
was powerless, and he could master me with ease."

"I suppose it was during the struggle that you lost the two buttons from
your overcoat which you left behind you?" I asked.

"Most likely," he replied, "though I knew nothing of them. Really his
strength seemed diabolic. There was something else about him which to my
mind scarcely seemed natural. At all my struggles he continued to laugh,
but there was no merriment in his laughter, it was merely an even
guttural cachinnation, the laugh of a fiend at the aimless struggles of
a lost soul. It seemed to give him immense pleasure to see me wriggling
on the smooth curved metal plate which formed the front of his car. I
grew tired at last and lay still, hoping for a chance to better my
position, for I came to the conclusion that in a mere trial of strength
he was immeasurably my superior.

"When he saw my resistance had ceased, he spoke again. 'I feel inclined
to take you for a ride with me, Inspector,' he said. 'I can assure you
that you will find the experience a thrilling one. It is given to few
men to travel with the Motor Pirate. The pace alone should prove
exhilarating, to say nothing of the companionship and--what awaits you
at the termination of the entertainment.' He chuckled again as he
concluded, and I felt a cold thrill in the region of my spine.

"I made no reply. What would have been the use? But I do wish my right
arm had been of some use, for I think in my anger I might have stood
some chance of turning the tables on him. I quietly tried to rub the
feeling back into it, but he did not afford me a chance of doing so for
long. He produced a length of rope from somewhere or other, and, before
I gathered what he was doing, he had twisted it round me and bound my
arms tightly to my sides. I was absolutely powerless, and I gnashed my
teeth with rage at the helpless state in which I found myself. There was
I, a detective inspector with a reputation at the Yard second to none,
trussed like a fowl, and lying on the slippery surface of the Pirate car
I had come out to capture."

"Not exactly a pleasant position," I remarked, as Forrest paused to
moisten his throat with the whisky-and-soda at his elbow.

"No; but the worst was yet to come. He had no sooner secured my arms
than he drew another piece of cord through the band, and fastened it
somewhere or other. 'Now, if ever you pray, Inspector,' he remarked,
with some more of his beastly merriment, 'pray that this rope doesn't
break; for if it should happen to do so at the pace we shall be
travelling, you will go to hell even sooner than I intend you to do.'

"With that he set his car in motion, and, judging by the way the wind
stung me, the pace was something terrific. At first I attempted to pay
some attention to the direction we took. But I soon gave up the idea. My
position on the car was not one from which I could observe anything with
any degree of comfort. With my arms bound, I sprawled out upon the
smooth, curved bonnet of the confounded car, only held on by a cord
which I expected to break and send me flying into the next world every
time we touched a stone, or crossed a rut. My heart was in my mouth for
the next hour or so, but afterwards I think I grew careless or callous.
He had pulled the cord round my arms pretty tightly; that numbed me all
over, and the exposure to the air did the rest. I fell into a dreamy
condition. I only know that never for a moment were we still. There was
always the drone of the wheels in my ears, and whenever I made a
struggle and opened my eyes, all I could see was the blacker streak in
the blackness caused by the hedges flying past. Heaven only knows how
far and where we went. It seemed an eternity until it ended. But by then
I was very near unconsciousness. I have a sort of impression the car did
stop. I fancy that I saw the Pirate's mask bent closely over me while he
examined me, that I heard him say, 'I don't think, Mr. Inspector, your
attentions will trouble me much more.' I do remember distinctly being
lifted in his powerful hands. I felt him swing me once, twice, thrice;
then I felt myself flying in the air, and the next moment my senses came
back to me with a rush, for I plumped into several feet of water."

"Well?" I ejaculated, as Forrest paused to light another cigarette. I
was so interested that I grudged him a moment's delay before completing
the story.

"The curious thing to my mind is that he did not knock me on the head at
first," said Forrest. "I can only explain it by the conclusion that our
friend the Motor Pirate is a madman. But, if so, I undoubtedly owe my
life to the means he took to finish it. The sudden immersion brought me
to myself much more rapidly than any other process could have done. In
detaching me from the car he must have loosened the knot of the rope
binding my arms; possibly the water made it slip further before it
became saturated. I felt the rope give, and got one arm free by the time
I came to the surface. I floundered into shallow water, and paused. By
this time there was just a glimmer of light on the eastern horizon from
the dawn, and I could see the bank was only a yard or two distant.
Somehow or another I managed to scramble out, bringing half the bed of
the river, or pond, whichever it was I had been pitched into, with me.
When I was on firm ground I collapsed. I did not remain long on the
ground, though. I knew very well that if I wanted to escape a severe
illness, the only thing to do was to keep moving until my circulation
was restored. So I got going. It was hard work at first. My limbs were
so cramped and stiff that I was compelled to stop and groan after
crawling every six paces. But the stiffness wore off gradually. I went
ahead until I struck a village, and found out in what part of the
country I was."

"Why didn't you go to the police-station?" I asked.

"Wasn't going to make myself a laughing-stock for a lot of country
constables," he answered. "No; if I had got my man, I should not have
minded what sort of figure I cut, but to turn up such a scarecrow after
failing to get my man--not much. I had learned from the post-office
window where I was. I had been dropped near Shefford, a village a few
miles the other side of Hitchin on the North Road, and I thought if I
walked back here I should avoid all likelihood of getting a chill. So I
started. I found I had a shilling in my pocket. I had more money about
me than that when I started out, but whether our friend helped himself
to the balance, or whether it fell from my pockets during the ride, I
haven't the slightest idea. But the shilling was sufficient to provide
for my requirements. The first public-house I found open I went in, and
had six-penny-worth of hot rum. My word! There's nothing like hot rum
for putting new life into one. After I had drunk it I reckoned I should
get here about noon; but I had not taken the somniferous effects of that
sixpenny-worth of rum into the calculation. Before I had covered half a
dozen miles, I found myself so sleepy that I could not keep my eyes
open. I dropped off once or twice as I walked, so at last I made for a
convenient haystack, rolled myself up in the loose litter at the base,
and let myself go.

"That's how it happened I was so late in my arrival," he remarked; "and
now, Motor Pirate or no Motor Pirate, I am going to finish that snooze."

He gave a prodigious yawn, and held out his hand. "Good night!" I said.
"The story of my adventures will very well keep until to-morrow."



CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH THE PIRATE HOLDS UP THE BRIGHTON MAIL


ON joining Forrest at breakfast the following morning, I found he had
mapped out a programme for the day which promised to keep us pretty
busily occupied.

"First," he said, "I must get into St. Albans, and see whether there is
any fresh information to hand. If possible, I should like to run over to
Shefford, for I want to look at the place where I had my ducking, and
recover the piece of cord with which that almighty scoundrel secured me.
Then there's the inquest at Towcester at twelve, and sometime to-day I
must put in an appearance at head-quarters to hand in my report. Perhaps
I had better train from Towcester for that. It will be making too great
demands on your time."

"Nonsense!" I replied; "I can run you up to town very nearly as quickly
as you could manage the journey by rail."

"I hope you won't have to return alone," he remarked. "I am hoping to be
able to inflict myself upon you for a few more days; but it is on the
cards I may be taken off the job since I have met with so little
success."

"I hope not," I answered.

"I should be sorry, too," he said. "I am more convinced than ever that
our friend is living within a twenty-mile radius of this house."

"What grounds have you for thinking so?" I asked.

"The very slightest at present," he declared frankly; "and until I have
seen the police reports from other parts of the country, I will not
commit myself definitely to the opinion."

I could not get anything more out of him then, but after he had made a
note of all the information to be obtained at St. Albans--we were on the
road by nine-thirty--he became more communicative. The information he
obtained did not amount to much. On the previous evening, the Motor
Pirate had not made his appearance anywhere; while on the evening
before, the only outrage of which he had been guilty was the murder
which we had discovered. On that night, however, his car had been
reported as having been seen on various roads in the midlands, one
appearance having been recorded as far north as Peterborough.

"That confirms my opinion," Forrest declared. "The Peterborough report
gives the time of his appearance as about 2.50. The sun rises at five,
and it is beginning to be light an hour earlier. It must have been about
four when he dropped me into the water at Shefford. Hitherto he has not
been seen by daylight at all. Clearly he must have delayed getting rid
of me until he thought it was dangerous to carry me about any longer.
He may even have been close to his own home, though he would probably
select a spot twenty or thirty miles away at least."

"It seems likely," I agreed.

"Certain of it," said Forrest. "Now we will get along to Shefford."

We had a very pleasant run, and a mile from the village, Forrest stopped
me where a deep pool fringed with rushes skirted the road.

"This is the spot," he cried.

He left me in the car and scrambled through the hedge into an adjoining
field. He came running back with a dilapidated overcoat sodden with
water in one hand, and a piece of rope in the other.

"Thought I could not be mistaken," he cried.

When he was again in the car he examined the rope carefully.

"Just an ordinary piece of half-inch cord," he remarked. "It's not of
much value as a clue, but as a piece of evidence--I have known a man's
life hang upon a slighter thread before now." He chuckled grimly at his
own pleasantry.

"Where next?" I inquired.

"Towcester," he replied; and I wheeled the car round, and we were soon
making the dust fly again.

We were not detained very long at the inquest. Forrest had a few words
with the coroner, so that after formal evidence of identification had
been given, and I had made my statement as to the finding of the body,
the inquiry was adjourned. Thus plenty of time was left at our disposal,
and we did not hurry on our way to town, even breaking our journey on
the way for lunch.

The weather remained delightfully fine. Clean roads, blue sky, soft
winds, combined to make ideal weather for motoring. We reached town
about four, and went straight to Scotland Yard. Forrest went in while I
waited for him. Then he returned for me, and, taking me up in the lift,
he piloted me into the presence of the commissioner, whom I found to be
an exceedingly courteous gentleman. He expressed himself indebted to me
for the assistance I had rendered the department. I did not see that my
assistance had been of much practical value, and I said so; but I added
that I was very keen on the Motor Pirate's capture, and I should be glad
to render any service in my power which would tend to such an end.

"Anything you can do to assist Inspector Forrest will be greatly
appreciated," he declared. "Of course, it is not our usual plan to make
use of outside assistance, but we are not so bound up in red tape as to
refuse such aid as that you offer."

We had ten minutes' further conversation, and then Forrest and I left
together. The detective was in high glee. He had obtained _carte
blanche_ to do as he liked. His chief had expressed every confidence in
him, while urging him to spare no effort to obtain the Pirate's arrest.

"The fact is," he said, "the papers have been rubbing it into us for
allowing such audacious crimes to be committed right under our noses,
and the chief is wild to get the chap. Half of the detective force are
already engaged on the job. I fancy I should get him myself singlehanded
sooner or later if he were a sane man; but, as it is, the cunning of a
madman upsets every calculation."

"You still hold to the theory that he is mad?" I asked.

"Cannot explain his treatment of me in any other way," he replied
promptly.

"Well, what's the next move?" I asked, when we had returned to our car.
"I suppose we may as well go for a prowl to-night, on the off-chance of
finding him."

"We might try a new district," answered Forrest, "You may have noticed
that he breaks fresh ground every time he reappears."

"Where shall it be then?"

Forrest answered my question with another. "Supposing yourself to be in
his place, and the desire to attract notoriety a stronger motive than
mere plunder. What should you do?"

There flashed into my memory what Winter's guest had said about the
Brighton Parcels Mail, and I said laughingly--

"I fancy I should hold up the Brighton Mail."

"As likely a feat as any for him to attempt," replied Forrest,
thoughtfully.

I glanced up at the clock in the tower of St. Stephens; the hands
pointed to a quarter before five.

"Well," I said, "we may as well run down to Brighton by daylight and get
acquainted with the road, since I have only driven over it once before.
We can dine at the Metropole comfortably, spend a couple of hours on the
front after dinner, and have plenty of time to meet the mail on the road
afterwards."

"A most excellent suggestion," agreed the inspector, and his eyes
twinkled at the thought of the programme I had mapped out.

We started forthwith. Reaching Brighton before sunset, I refilled my
tanks with petrol before putting the car up at the Metropole and
reserving a table for dinner. We had a wash, walked to the Hove end of
the esplanade, and came back to our dinner with appetites equal to
anything. We sat over our coffee a long while, Forrest making the time
fly by spinning yarns about his experiences. Then we smoked a cigar on
the pier, and so whiled away the time until eleven. If we had started
then we should possibly have reached town before the mail had started,
but as we were both tired of dawdling about, I proposed that we should
extend our tour.

Forrest was quite agreeable. "Really we are out on a fool's errand," he
remarked. "We are just as likely to meet him on one road as another. Yet
I have a presentiment that we shall hear something further about him
to-night. If we do meet him, remember one thing. One of us must get in
the first shot, and it must not miss."

"Don't wait for me to shoot, then," I replied.

We got our car, and after a glance at the map, I told my companion where
I proposed to go: a run along the coast to Worthing, there to strike
inland for Horsham, from Horsham to make for the Brighton road about
Crawley, roughly about a forty-mile run in all, and I reckoned that if
we kept to the legal speed limit we should just about meet the mail.

Forrest made no objection to my suggestion, so we started at our slowest
pace. I had very little to do, and the ride was one of the most
enjoyable I have ever experienced. The salt breath of the sea was in our
faces, and the roar of it in our ears. I was quite sorry when on
reaching Worthing it became necessary to leave the coast. Inland the
roads were absolutely deserted. We did not meet a single person between
Worthing and Horsham, and for the first time I realized how easily the
Motor Pirate's movements could evade notice. At Horsham we looked in at
the police-station, and Forrest made a formal inquiry as to whether
anything had been heard of our quarry in the neighbourhood; but, as we
expected, without result. We remained there a little time to stretch our
legs and to drink a cup of tea, which the officer in charge prepared for
us, and on leaving we proceeded at the same steady pace, arriving in
Crawley something after four. There we found that the mail had passed
through a quarter of an hour before our arrival, and I questioned
whether it would be worth our while to remain any longer on the road.

"We may as well make a night of it," said Forrest, in reply to my
remark on the subject, so I turned the car in the direction of Brighton
again. We bowled along at about fifteen miles an hour, at which rate I
reckoned on catching the mail within half an hour. But we were destined
to overtake it in a considerably shorter time, for just after passing
the third milestone after leaving the village, our path was blocked by
the huge van standing in the middle of the road and all across it.

I pulled up at once. Apparently the vehicle was not much damaged, but
the door was broken open, while the parcels with which it had been laden
were scattered all over the roadway. One horse lay on the roadway
perfectly still, the others had disappeared.

The moment we stopped Forrest leaped from the car; I followed his
example. The first object which met our eyes was the form of a man. He
lay perfectly still, and I thought he was dead, but my companion had
sharper eyes. Taking a knife from his pocket, he hacked at cords which
bound the man hand and foot.

"More work of the Motor Pirate," remarked Forrest grimly, as I came to
his assistance.

The man was not dead, but he had been so roughly gagged that had we
arrived ten minutes later he probably would have been beyond human help.
In the condition he was, it took us ten minutes working vigorously to
restore his respiration; and after that it took the whole of the
contents of my pocket flask to restore him sufficiently to enable him to
give us an account of the mishap which had befallen him.

Then we learned that the man was the driver of the mail, and that
Forrest's surmise that we had happened once more upon the handiwork of
the Motor Pirate was correct. He had, it appeared, been driving quietly
along, when his attention had been arrested by the curious high-toned
hum which presaged the Pirate's approach. He was wondering what the
curious noise could be, when he suddenly realized that a long low car
was beside him. He did not anticipate any harm either to himself or to
his charge, for, though he fancied that the stranger was the noted
criminal, he shared the impression, pretty common until then, that the
Pirate confined his attentions to motorists. The stranger did not even
call upon him to pull up. He ran beside the coach, then slightly
increasing his speed, he drew level with the wheelers of the team. There
was the sound of a pistol shot, the off wheeler fell dead in his tracks,
bringing down the other horses in his fall, and swinging the vehicle
right across the road. The driver only escaped being pitched from his
seat by the strap which held him to it.

"Then," continued the man, "he ups with 'is pistol an' tells me to come
dahn, an' dahn I toddles pretty quick. 'Sorry ter inconwenience yer, my
good feller,' ee says. 'Don't menshing it,' I says, as perlite as you'd
be with a pistol a pointing at yer 'ed. 'I want the keys er this 'ere
waggin,' ee says. 'Sorry they don't trust 'em ter us drivers,' I
answers. 'Don't matter worth a cent,' ee says. 'I've another w'y er
openin' thet strong box. Put yer 'ands be'ind yer an' turn rahnd,' ee
says. I done it, an' ee trusses me up like a bloomin' chicken, an'
sticks my own angkincher dahn me froat. With thet ee walks along ter the
door and blows the bloomin' locks orf with 'is pistol. That did it. Ee
looks inside, an' the w'y ee cleared them parcels aht was a sight--well,
yer can see fer yerself wort it's like. The other 'orses were thet mad
they kicks theirselves free. Ee goes froo the parcels cool as a
cowcumber until ee routs aht the registered parcels. Ee puts them in 'is
car. 'Tar, tar!' ee says, wiving 'is 'and, an' orf ee goes jest abaht
five minutes afore you gents comed along."

When Forrest realized how near we had been to coming to close quarters
with our quarry, he went aside, and for the first time since I had made
his acquaintance, I heard him swear. It was a successful effort. He
returned to my side the next moment.

"The telegraph is our only chance," he said. "Drive like hell back to
Crawley."

I did. There we set the wires throbbing, and begun to scour the
countryside for any traces of the Pirate. We did not give up our quest
until eleven o'clock in the morning. I think we inquired at every house
and cottage within a ten-mile radius of the scene of the outrage, but
without finding a single person who had seen or heard of the Motor
Pirate.

Once more he had appeared and disappeared without leaving the faintest
clue to his identity.



CHAPTER XII

HOW WE EXCHANGE SHOTS WITH THE PIRATE


AFTER the sudden flurry which the reappearance of the Motor Pirate
caused, and quite as much in the country at large as in my own
particular circle, we settled down once again to a condition of
comparative quietude. Of course there were plenty of facts to keep the
public interest alive and to fill the papers. The adjourned inquest on
the victim found near Towcester supplied columns of copy, while the
robbery of the Brighton Mail afforded unlimited scope for the
descriptive reporter as well as for the special crime investigator, who
at this time made his permanent appearance on the staff of nearly every
paper of any importance in the British Isles. My life at home was made a
burden to me by these gentlemen. I bear them no malice for their
persevering attempts to interview me, but they were an unmitigated
nuisance, since I had no wish to air my experiences in the newspapers at
this stage of affairs. It was with the utmost difficulty I escaped the
attention of the gentlemen of the Fourth Estate, for they even waited on
my doorstep for the chance of button-holing me when I went out in the
morning; and pursued me so assiduously, that I dared not look a stranger
in the face, lest my glance should be translated into a column of
glowing prose.

I have said that the Pirate left no clue to his identity upon his latest
appearance, and, indeed, at the time, such was the opinion both of
Forrest and myself. But in the light of after events we learned that
there was a clue, had we been keen-witted enough to have discovered it.
In the course of our inquiries around Crawley, we certainly did not
succeed in finding any one who had observed the mysterious car which
every one had learned to associate with the Pirate, but we had been told
casually at Caterham--we had not returned by the direct road between
London and Brighton--that we were not the only motorists abroad on that
night, since another man had passed through the town early the same
morning. When we learned, however, that he had been driving a car of the
conventional shape with a tonneau body, we paid no further attention to
the information, concluding that he was a sportsman, anxious like
ourselves for a brush with the Pirate. Our blindness was to cost us dear
before we had done.

There was another supposition which I could not get out of my mind in
connection with the latest feat, and a couple of days afterwards I
mentioned it to Forrest as we waited, according to our invariable
custom, at St. Albans for news of the Pirate's reappearance.

"Don't you think it particularly strange," I remarked, "that in holding
up the Brighton Mail, our friend at once searched for the registered
parcels, and directly he laid his hands upon them at once made off?"

"A perfectly natural thing for him to do," replied the detective. "He
would guess that, if there were any valuables, they would almost
certainly have been registered, and he could scarcely hope to go over
the whole contents of the van."

"Admitted," I replied. "Still, does it not strike you as curious that he
should have selected the night when a valuable parcel of diamonds was
there?"

"Well?" asked Forrest, his attention thoroughly arrested.

"It almost seems as if he was possessed of the same information as we
were," I ventured.

"According to your argument," he answered, "the pirate should be either
yourself or myself, Colonel Maitland, Mr. Mannering, Mr. Winter, or his
friend."

"There remains Mannering and the diamond merchant," I said thoughtfully,
"and I know the latter has never driven a motor-car in his life.
Besides, he is scarcely likely to have robbed himself in such an
extraordinary fashion." We had seen from the papers that he had, in
fact, been referring to his own firm when he had described to us the
advantages of the parcel post as a means of transmitting valuables. "He
may have other friends beside Winter to whom he has mentioned the
matter."

"There's Mr. Mannering still to be accounted for," remarked Forrest.
"No harm can be done by inquiring if he was away from home that evening.
What sort of establishment does he keep?"

"Merely a couple of maids," I answered.

"In that case there should be no trouble in ascertaining whether he was
out or not," he replied. "I'll see about it in the morning."

He made the inquiry accordingly, but as he confessed to me afterwards,
without expecting anything to come of it. His expectations seemed to be
justified in the result. The maids declared that Mannering had gone to
his sitting-room after dinner, and had been there with his slippers on
when they retired for the night. They had locked up the house as usual,
and the doors had been fast when they came down the next morning.

This investigation, perfunctory as it was, decided us against any idea
of Mannering's complicity, and I fell back upon the theory that the
diamond merchant must have communicated his methods to some one else. We
sought him out in the city, and he assured us that he had never before
referred to the subject. He did not object to supplying us with the
names of his acquaintances who owned cars, and either Forrest or myself
made inquiries concerning every one of them. All were to no purpose.
When we had finished, we were no nearer discovering anything concerning
the Pirate than we were when we had begun.

Then occurred an incident which should have opened our eyes, if anything
possibly could have done so, to the personality of the Pirate. But
again we were absolutely blind.

It was the second week of May, and since, in spite of continued fine
weather, our unknown terror remained in the seclusion of his
hiding-place, wherever it might be, I had persuaded Forrest to come with
me for a run one afternoon as far as Cambridge, proposing to return
after sunset.

The roads were beginning to be a little dusty, but altogether we had a
very pleasant journey without any incident of note. We left the
university town about nine, reckoning upon getting home comfortably
before midnight. There was a bright slice of moon shining, and we did
the dozen miles before reaching Royston at a decent pace. We went slowly
over the hilly road out of Royston and had passed over the worst of it,
and I had just put on a higher speed, when I fancied I heard the distant
hum which once heard could never be mistaken for anything else. Forrest
heard it at the same time as myself.

"Pull up at the side of the road," he cried. "The car must not be
damaged."

I obeyed, running the bonnet into the hedge and leaving the back of the
car extended over the footpath. Meanwhile, Forrest had drawn his
revolver from his pocket, and the moment I brought the car to a
standstill I followed his example.

"Don't stand on ceremony," advised my companion; "shoot on sight!"

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when our enemy made his
appearance, coming from the direction of Buntingford. Whether he had any
intention of stopping and robbing us, I have no means of telling, but I
think not, for he was travelling at his most rapid pace, and gave no
signs of slackening as he approached. Once more I was astonished at the
wonderful steadiness of his machine. He passed us in a flash, the car
running as evenly as if it were upon rails. In fact I paid so much
attention to this, that I was too late to fire with any prospect of
hitting him. Forrest was more alert. As the Pirate swooped by, the
detective's Colt spoke twice. So far as we could see, the shots took no
effect, for he did not move an inch.

"No luck," muttered my companion, as the hum of the Pirate's car died
away in the distance.

I held up a warning finger. "Hush!" I said.

My ears had told me truly--our enemy was once more approaching us. I
leaned over the back of the car, this time determined that I would at
least make an endeavour to stop his progress. The road was without a
bend for a stretch of at least two hundred yards, and the moment he came
into the straight he was clearly visible to us in the light of the moon.
I did not wait. The moment I saw him distinctly, I lifted my revolver
and pulled the trigger as rapidly as I was able. Before I had emptied
three chambers he was level. I was just in the act of firing a third
time, when a flash of fire spurted from the running car and my pistol
dropped from my hand. Something had struck me violently on the arm. I
felt no pain for the moment, only curiously numbed and cold. I wondered
why my companion should continue to fire at the rapidly disappearing
form of the Pirate, who appeared to me to be swerving from side to side
of the road in the most ridiculous fashion. In another moment he was out
of sight. I felt extremely sick, and, with something between a groan and
a sigh, I sank back into my seat.

"I fancy one of us must have got him," said Forrest, in an excited tone.
"Let us get on."

"I hope you are right," I answered. "For he has certainly managed to
wing me."

The shock had passed off, and, with the return of sensation, my arm felt
as if a red-hot iron had been run through it, while there was a similar
sort of feeling about my chest.

"Really," said Forrest, as he looked closely into my face. He must have
seen that I was not joking, for he jumped out of the car and came back
with one of the lamps in his hand. "Where is it?" he asked, with some
anxiety.

"Merely the arm, I fancy," I replied.

He took a knife from his pocket, and, without a moment's hesitation,
ripped up the sleeve of the overcoat and under-coat which I was wearing.
The shirtsleeve was already soaked with blood, and his face was
curiously anxious as he cut away the linen and felt the bone from wrist
to shoulder. Then his face cleared.

"Only through the muscle," he remarked. "A fortnight will see the wound
completely healed."

Meanwhile he was tearing his handkerchief into strips, and, with this
improvised bandage, he bound up the wound.

"Sure that is all?" he asked, when he had tightened it to his
satisfaction.

"I've got much the same sort of feeling here," I replied, tapping my
chest gingerly.

His face grew grave again, and before doing anything more he fished my
flask out of my pocket, and insisted upon my taking a liberal draught of
the contents. Not until then would he examine me.

"Your bleeding powers would do credit to a bullock," he commented, as he
cut away my shirt: "but beyond loss of blood, I don't think there's much
harm done."

His first impression was correct. A cursory examination was quite
sufficient to convince him that I was not much hurt.

"Just a nasty furrow," he remarked. "Pretty painful, I suppose. The
bullet glanced off, turned by that leather coat of yours, I presume.
Lucky for you; as it is, you will be all right in the fortnight."

I felt relieved by his tone, and assured him, when he had patched me up
temporarily with strips torn from my shirt-sleeves and my own
handkerchief, that I felt very little of the injury.

"Now take my seat," he said, as he buttoned my coat round me. "I think
I have had enough experience of motoring to ensure my taking you in
safety to the nearest surgeon. It's infernally bad luck, though," he
continued. "I would swear one of us must have hit our friend, and if we
were only in a position to follow him up, we should be pretty certain to
effect a capture."

My mind had been considerably relieved to find that I was not seriously
injured, and the dose of whisky I had taken had pulled me together.

"You've bound me up pretty tightly?" I asked.

"You are right enough until we find a doctor," he answered.

"In that case," I said, "if there's any chance of our catching our man
to-night, I'm not going to chuck it away. Put the light back and let us
get on."

My mind was made up on the subject. One reason was that physical pain
always makes me feel mad, and I would have given a great deal to get
even with the Pirate for that reason alone. Besides, call it vanity or
what you will, I wasn't going to let any one say I had allowed a scratch
to bowl me over. So the moment Forrest had replaced the light, I resumed
my seat in the car, asserting that I was fully capable of driving.

The detective attempted to dissuade me from the attempt, but I was bent
upon having my own way. He did not argue the question at any length, for
as soon as he was in the car I backed into the middle of the road and
jammed on our highest speed.

In three minutes we were at Buntingford, and there we nearly ran into a
group of people who were gathered in the middle of the road. They were
discussing, as it happened, the appearance of the Pirate, who had passed
through the town twenty minutes previously. Here Forrest made another
futile attempt to persuade me to see a surgeon immediately, but I would
not listen to him. We swept onward. I could scarcely see, but I sent the
Mercédès along recklessly, stopping for nothing until we reached Ware. I
would never have driven in the manner I did in calmer moments. Forrest
told me afterwards that his journey on the Pirate's car was nothing to
it, for the car rocked so from side to side of the road that he was
never certain whether I was not steering for the hedges; while at every
bend his heart was in his mouth when he realized that the wheels were
never on the ground together.

On the outskirts of Ware we learned that the Pirate had been seen
approaching the town, but that, instead of passing through the narrow
streets, he had doubled back in the direction of Stevenage. He had kept
his twenty minutes' start and I was for following him. Forrest was of
another opinion.

"According to his usual custom, he is obviously avoiding the towns," he
argued; "and if, as I still suspect, his hiding-place is in the vicinity
of St. Albans, we shall stand some chance of cutting him off if we take
the most direct route. He cannot be badly hurt, or we should have picked
him up before this, and under any other circumstance we are not likely
to overtake him."

I saw the force of his reasoning and we flew on. We heard nothing of him
neither in Hertford nor in Hatfield.

"Our only chance is at St. Albans," remarked my companion, and once more
I put my car to top speed.

We were just about half way between the two towns when we saw the lights
of a motor ahead. I sounded the horn, or rather Forrest did, but the
vehicle made no attempt to get out of the way. We caught up to the
stranger hand over fist, and not until we were nearly touching did I
slacken speed.

As I did so the occupant of the car shouted out, "That you, Sutgrove?
Never more pleased to meet with a friend in my life."

It was Mannering.

"Seen anything of the Pirate?" shouted Forrest, by way of reply.

"Merely had the pleasure of exchanging shots with him ten minutes ago,"
was the astounding answer. "Unfortunately he appears to have got the
better of the exchange, for he has managed to put a bullet in my
shoulder."

"We have had a similar experience, and Mr. Sutgrove is the victim,"
answered Forrest. "So I am afraid I cannot offer much assistance."

"I think I can get to St. Albans all right," he replied. "It's only the
left, and I managed to get a handkerchief round it."

"If you will let us pass," I said, "I will run on to St Albans and see
that assistance is sent to you."

"Oh, I didn't notice I was taking all the road," he remarked, as he drew
aside.

Once more we drove ahead at our speed limit, and five minutes later we
stopped before the police office. There we found every one in blissful
ignorance of the fact that the Pirate was abroad. Nor did any one else
see him that night. Again he had mysteriously vanished under
circumstances which convinced the detective more firmly than ever that
his retreat was somewhere in the vicinity of my home.



CHAPTER XIII

OF THE ADVANTAGES OF BEING WOUNDED


I SUPPOSE I must have lost more blood than I had reckoned upon, or else
the excitement of the pursuit had been sufficient to keep me going; but
whichever it was, no sooner had we pulled up than I collapsed. I was
never nearer fainting in my life. In fact I had to take another stiff
dose of whisky, and even then I was only too glad to relinquish the
steering-wheel to Forrest, and let him drive me the rest of the way
home. He never left me until I was safely in bed, and the surgeon he had
summoned had stitched me up.

Fortunately my wounds proved, as Forrest had foretold, more painful than
dangerous. The bullet had carried with it some shreds of cloth; and the
removal of these from my arm was the only really painful bit of work the
surgeon had to perform. However, the medical man insisted upon my
remaining in bed, and I obeyed his orders for a couple of days; but on
the third I felt so well that I rebelled against any further
confinement, and though still considerably sore, I managed to get out
and about.

I found I was a little bit shaky, yet I managed to get as far as
Colonel Mainland's house, and there I found my adventure had been a
blessing in disguise, for I could see from the manner in which she
greeted me, that my last encounter with the Pirate had wiped from Miss
Maitland's memory all remembrance of the previous occasion. There was
only one thing to mar my enjoyment of the situation thus created.
Mannering had unfortunately been successful in making himself a
candidate for similar solicitude. His injury, however, was even more
trivial than mine, the bullet having merely scored his shoulder. I
wished devoutly it had missed him altogether, or been a few inches
higher and more to the right; for in such case I should have had Miss
Maitland's undivided sympathies and attention, whereas I had perforce to
share them with my rival. I knew I had done nothing heroic; but if
Mannering had not been hit I might at least have posed as half a hero,
instead of which I had to be content with being a quarter of one.

However, I made the most of what glory I had earned, and I am bound to
confess that I traded upon my sore arm in the most shameless fashion.

Fortunately the Motor Pirate at this time entered upon a long period of
quiescence, so that I was free to make the most of my opportunity, and
to devote the whole of my time to Miss Maitland's society. The detective
was firmly of the opinion that this prolonged rest was due to one of our
shots having found its billet, and declared that we should hear nothing
more of him until he had repaired damages. The inaction, however, soon
became very wearisome to him; and when a fortnight had elapsed without a
single appearance having been chronicled, he became quite morose. By
that time he had searched over the whole district, but not a trace of
any other injured person could he discover; and he was as much at a loss
for a clue to the identity of the Pirate as he had been when he first
entered upon the job of running him to earth.

The Press by this time had nothing but jeers for the police and for the
detective force generally. Meantime the most extraordinary steps were
taken to secure the Pirate's arrest when he should renew his career. The
Automobile Club had officially lent their assistance to the police, and
night by night the principal roads of the county were patrolled by the
members of the club, thirsting for the opportunity of distinguishing
themselves by the capture of the marauder. The Pirate must have been
vastly amused in his retirement as he read of the sensation he had
created. I rather think that the man in the street looked upon the whole
matter as the great sporting event of the century, and his sympathies
were undoubtedly with the man who could so easily snap his fingers at
the army of police, amateur and professional, who were engaged in the
task of seeking him. In fact, if he had not committed the murder at
Towcester, I am convinced that the public would have elevated him to the
position of a great popular hero. Even as it was, he had no lack of
apologists; and an eminent ballad-monger celebrated his exploits in some
verses, which were immensely applauded when recited by long-haired
enthusiasts at smoking concerts and similar gatherings. All this was
gall to Forrest; and at last one day, three weeks after our encounter
with the Pirate, he told me he could stand it no longer.

"I must try another line of country," he remarked.

"What line do you propose?" I asked.

"The only thing I can think of," he replied, "is to make inquiries in
Amsterdam, to see if the diamonds which were taken from the mail, have
been offered for sale. I am quite certain they have not been put upon
the market this side of the water."

I was very loth to let him go alone; but he would not hear of my
accompanying him.

"What! run away now, and let your friend Mannering have a clear field? I
wouldn't if I were you," he remarked. "Besides, I can manage this sort
of work better by myself."

His final argument was conclusive, and he went away promising to look me
up immediately he returned, and expressing the hope that nothing more
would be heard of the Pirate until his return.

On the very same day it happened that Mannering also took his departure
from St. Stephens. I had mentioned in his hearing that Forrest had been
called away, and he had then informed us--Miss Maitland and myself--that
he had some business in Paris in connection with the patent tyre with
which he was still experimenting, which would entail his absence for two
or three days.

I sincerely trusted that his business would require a much longer
period to transact; and as he was leaving by an early train the next
morning, I took particular care he should obtain no opportunity for a
private leave-taking with Miss Maitland.

It was not a sporting thing to do, perhaps, but I was so much in earnest
about my love-making, that I had no scruples about spoiling as many of
my rival's chances as I could. However, as it happened, I found somewhat
to my surprise that my tactics were not unwelcome to Miss Maitland. She
confessed as much to me the next day. She---- But perhaps it will be
better for me to give in some detail the conversation we had upon this
occasion, since it had a considerable bearing upon after events.

The morning after Mannering had departed was as brilliant a one as June
ever bestowed upon mortal. Now that my rival was out of the way, I
thought I might dispense with the sling which I had worn hitherto, and
directly after breakfast I strolled across to the Maitlands', with the
intention of persuading Miss Maitland to come for a ride on the
Mercédès. I found her on the point of starting for a stroll, with the
object of giving her favourite Irish setter a run, and I was easily
persuaded to abandon my projected ride and accompany her instead. We
chose the footpath between St. Stephen's church and the village of Park
Street, and, stepping out briskly, we soon reached our destination; and
as my companion would not hear of turning back, we continued our walk to
Bricket Wood. There I insisted upon resting.

I had never seen her in higher spirits than she was that morning. She
bubbled over with gaiety. So much so that I could not help commenting
upon the fact.

"Yes," she replied frankly, in answer to my remarks on the subject, "I
do feel gay this morning. I feel as if a load had been removed from my
shoulders."

"Surely you can have no troubles," I remarked, half-banteringly.

A shadow alighted for a moment upon her face and was gone again.

"Nothing which ought to be a trouble. Nothing tangible and yet---- Oh,
Mr. Sutgrove, do you--have you ever experienced a presentiment of
something dreadful happening? No; that is not exactly what I mean. I
don't know how to explain myself without----"

Then she paused, and I discreetly kept silence. Presently she resumed.

"Men are so stupid, or I would tell you all about it. You would never
understand."

I saw my opening and made use of it. "We men may be stupid both
individually and collectively," I said. "But I can answer for one man
being sympathetic to anything you like to say to him."

She laughed. "I am so afraid you will think me silly."

"Miss Maitland--Evie----" I began.

"Hush!" She stopped me with an adorable smile. "You know you haven't
caught the Motor Pirate, yet."

I summoned up the most injured expression permitted by my contentment
with my surroundings and fell silent again.

"Poor boy!" she said mockingly. "It is unkind of me to remind you of
your vow, when you have already done your best to fulfil it."

"Not quite my best, yet," I muttered sullenly.

"Anyhow I think you have done quite enough to warrant my taking you into
my confidence."

She said this quite seriously, and glancing up at her, I saw she was
looking into a glade of the wood with a preoccupied expression on her
pretty face, which showed me that it was in reality no petty trouble
which worried her.

"This scene is so delightfully restful. I love the cool green lights and
the cool grey shadows of the woodlands in early summer," she remarked
absently.

I had no eyes for aught but the face of the speaker, though I was
indirectly conscious that there was a good deal of beauty in the wood.
To me it seemed an appropriate background, that was all.

"Yes," I said. "But about this presentiment of yours----"

"It is hardly a presentiment; in fact, I don't know what to call it,"
she replied. Then she turned and faced me. "Now listen. There's an
acquaintance of mine, whom I know very well and used to like a great
deal. Yes, I think I am right in saying used to like. Well, for some
undefined reason, my liking has change to something very like fear."

"For what reason?" I asked.

"None," she replied. "Absolutely there is no reason whatever."

"A case of Dr. Fell," I said. "Well, avoid your Dr. Fell."

"That is exactly what I am unable to do," she answered, and I could see
she was speaking truly. "This fear has grown up in some degree, I think,
from a subtle sort of consciousness that the person in question has it
in his power to exert a curious influence over me. I seem to be drawn
against my will into an attitude towards him which is not only against
my judgment, but also against my inclination."

"Him?" I asked. "Him? Is it Mannering?"

"Why, what made you think of him? Does he affect you in the same way?"
she said eagerly.

"Far from it," I replied. My first feeling was one of delight at
discovering that my rival was more feared than loved. But as I thought
over the matter, my astonishment grew. I had looked upon Mannering as a
rival, and as a favoured rival, but I was not prepared to hear that Evie
Maitland was afraid of him, or of any other man for the matter of that,
and I said so.

"A month ago, I should have laughed at the idea myself," she replied,
"but to-day----" She shuddered slightly. "Now you know why I feel so gay
this morning. The fact is, when on awakening this morning I realized
that I should be absolutely free from his presence for two whole days, I
hardly knew how to contain myself for joy."

"Surely you must have some grounds for fearing him, something in his
manner----"

"No. Yet I have thought--but it is nothing. When we have been alone
together he has sat once or twice staring at me. I try to speak to him,
but he sits and stares and stares, with his eyes so bright and all the
time so sombre--so penetrating that I feel that he sees quite through
me. Just like one does in those unpleasant dreams where one's clothes
have somehow disappeared. To-day, and now, it seems very silly, yet I am
certain I shall feel exactly the same the next time I meet him. Then
when he sees how confused I am he gives a sort of a laugh, an unpleasant
kind of a chuckle without any merriment in it."

"He's a d----d cad!" I cried hotly.

"I--I don't know," she answered. "I don't seem to mind at the time. It
is just as if I were in a dream, for I am so fascinated in watching him
that I have no thoughts left for myself. It is when he has gone that the
thought seems unpleasant. Then I always think I will never see him
again, but the next time he calls I feel bound to do so. There, now I
have confided in you, don't tell me I am a weak hysterical girl or I
really don't know what will happen to me."

She laid one of her little hands on my arm and looked imploringly into
my eyes.

"I know you are neither weak nor hysterical," I replied.

"You will help me, won't you?" she asked.

I took both hands in mine and looked straight into her eyes.

"The only way I see of helping you," I said deliberately, "is for you to
give me the right to do so."

She did not take her hands from my grasp.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Do you know, Jim," she said an hour later, when we came out of the wood
into the meadow, "that I told you not to speak to me until you had
captured the Motor Pirate."

"You could not answer for me, darling," I replied. "But I should not
have done so if I----"

"Had not found the temptation to do so irresistible," she said, taking
the words out of my mouth with so bewitching an air, that again I found
an irresistible temptation confronting me.

We did not revert again to the curious influence which Evie had declared
Mannering exercised. She would not allow of it. She wanted to think that
he had gone completely out of her life, and that no more shadows were
ever to fall across her path. And I was too happy myself to wish to
refer to anything which should bring an unpleasant memory to her mind.

I shall never forget our walk home. The silver thread of the Ver, the
old monastery gate-house and the ruins of Sopwell Priory in the
foreground, the churches of St. Stephens and St Michaels on either hand,
and in the centre of the picture the Abbey of St. Albans brooding over
all. We decided to be married in the abbey. I trod on air.



CHAPTER XIV

A CLOUD APPEARS ON LOVE'S HORIZON


MANNERING remained absent for a week, and during that time I learned
from Evie a good deal about the curious dread which he had inspired in
her mind. Had inspired, I say, for she assured me it had passed away,
and that she felt quite safe now she was promised to be my wife. Our
betrothal had been announced the day after the never-to-be-forgotten
walk to Bricket wood, and I had hastened to make it known as widely as I
could, for I could think of no likelier method of ensuring her against
any further annoyance on the part of Mannering. When he saw that he had
lost, I could not think that he would do otherwise than retire
gracefully from the scene. If, however, he failed to take his failure
kindly, I should not have the slightest hesitation about sending him
about his business. I should have been tempted to do so without further
delay, if there had in reality been anything in Mannering's conduct to
which open exception could have been taken. Evie recognized there was
nothing of the sort as strongly as myself, and she was even averse to do
as I suggested, and ask her father to hint to him that he should, for a
while at least, cease his visits to the house.

"You see," she remarked, "if he had made himself offensive in any other
way, I should have welcomed the opportunity of speaking to papa about
it. But he has not. His attitude has been outwardly perfectly courteous,
and papa would only laugh at me if I were to tell him what I have told
you. He would not believe me if I told him I was afraid of Mr.
Mannering."

"Besides, you are now no longer afraid?" I said.

"No; I am no longer afraid of him. I am quite sure of that," she
repeated.

The manner in which she made the assertion ought to have warned me that
she was not quite so certain on the point as she was willing to believe,
but no such thought crossed my mind at the time.

"Anyhow," I continued, "if when you see Mannering again, you feel any
recurrence of your dread, it will be easy for me to pick a quarrel with
him, and so compel him to absent himself from the house. You see, he
will be unable to come here without meeting me."

Evie pouted a dissent. "You must not do that," she remarked. "A quarrel
with him would make both of us look ridiculous. Everybody would conclude
that you were jealous; and I--I should not like to imagine any one
thinking that I gave you cause."

"My own darling!" I cried.

       *       *       *       *       *

When once more we resumed our conversation, I bethought me of another
plan, and I suggested to Evie that she could always find a retreat at my
home in Norfolk, if she wanted to get away from Mannering's presence. My
aunt, I knew, would be delighted to entertain her. She agreed at once to
adopt this course if the occasion should arise. Thus I thought I had
provided against every contingency for the short period which was to
elapse before our wedding-day.

When Mannering did return, however, it seemed as if we had been making
preparations to meet a contingency which was never likely to arise. He
learned of Evie's engagement from the Colonel, the morning after his
return to St. Albans. He took the news very well. Much more coolly than
I should have done had I been the disappointed one. In fact, a few
minutes after he had been made acquainted with Evie's engagement, he
came to us where we were in the garden, and congratulated us forthwith.

"You are a lucky fellow, Sutgrove," he said. "I had cherished a faint
hope that your luck might be mine, and now the only consolation I have
is that the best man always wins."

Spoken in a different tone than that which he employed, his words would
have made a very pretty compliment, but from his lips the words seemed
to be very like a sarcasm. However, I could pardon the expression of a
little bitterness under the circumstances, so I made no reply; and,
turning to Evie, he continued--

"I trust your new tie will not put an end to the old friendships, Miss
Maitland?"

"Why should it?" she asked.

"They often do," he replied.

"Not if the old friendships are the real thing," I interjected.

"No; not if they are the real thing," he repeated slowly. "I hope you
will find mine to be the real thing."

A faint smile fluttered across his face as he spoke, and was gone in an
instant. Neither Evie nor myself knew what to reply, and an awkward
pause ensued. He seemed to feel the awkwardness of it just as much as
either of us, and he changed the subject with an inquiry as to whether
anything further had been heard or seen of the Motor Pirate during his
own absence in Paris.

"I have been far too busy to even look at the papers," he explained,
"and he might have been captured for all I know."

"No such luck," I replied. "This time he seems to have disappeared for
good."

"I see I shall have to take up your job, and devote my energies to the
task of his capture," he said laughingly. And, turning to Evie, he said,
"I presume you will not allow Sutgrove to take any risks of that sort
now, Miss Maitland?"

Again there was something sarcastic in his tone, and I could see by the
flush in Evie's cheek that the question had angered her. She answered
almost hotly--

"I am quite sure if any one can capture the Pirate, Jim can."

"I have no intention of giving up the pursuit just at present," I added
quietly, with a glance of thanks to my dear one for her ready
championship.

"I don't think I should trouble myself about any Motor Pirate if I were
in your position," he replied. "I fancy if I were engaged to be married
to the best girl in the world, the first thing I should do would be to
eliminate every risk from my life, instead of looking about for fresh
ones. Besides, it seems scarcely fair on the girl, does it?"

"Surely that depends on what the girl thinks, doesn't it?" asked Evie.
"A good many girls haven't much admiration for the man who would act as
you suggest."

"Ah, well!" returned Mannering. "I see now where Sutgrove has succeeded.
The prize always goes to the adventurous."

Again there was a subtle provocation in his tone--something very like a
sneer. An angry retort was on the tip of my tongue, but a glance from
Evie checked it, and soon after he left us together.

"You must not be angry with him," she said, as soon as we were alone.
"He does not know you as I do; and besides I think he--he must be
disappointed."

"There's not the slightest doubt about that," I answered emphatically.
"He is badly hit, and he takes it pretty well considering. I know I
shouldn't have taken my gruel so coolly. In fact, that is just what I
don't like about him. One never knows what is going on behind that
handsome mask of his."

"Handsome," she said. "Do you call him handsome?"

"Yes. I should say he was one of the handsomest men of my acquaintance.
How could you ever bestow a single glance or thought upon me when----"

Evie placed her hand upon my lips. "You dear, foolish old boy," she
said. "There is only one face in the whole wide world which I think is
really handsome, and I have thought so from the first time I caught
sight of it."

There was another interlude in our conversation--they were pretty
frequent in those days--and the subject dropped for a time. It recurred
frequently, however, and gradually I perceived that whatever subject we
discussed, sooner or later, Mannering's name was bound to crop up. At
first I rather encouraged Evie to talk about him; but, after a while, I
discovered that I was ministering to the feeling which I thought had
been destroyed. I could not help but notice that, soon after Mannering's
return, Evie's high spirits became subdued--her gaiety less spontaneous.
Yet when I asked her whether Mannering's presence produced any effect
upon her, she assured me to the contrary.

Nor did I see how Mannering could possibly exert any influence over her.
I took particular care that he should never have a _tête-à-tête_ with
her. Sometimes she would not even see him for a couple of days at a
time, and when she did, it would be merely for a few minutes, and
nearly always in the presence of Colonel Maitland as well as myself.

It appeared to me, indeed, as if Mannering even took pains to avoid
seeing much of her; and, though I watched him closely, his bearing was
always studiously correct. He was the same _insouciant_ person who had
impressed me so favourably upon my first introduction to him. But
whether it was owing to the distrust which Evie's fear of him had
impressed upon me, or because I could really see things which had before
been hidden from my sight, I certainly did observe about him certain
singularities which I had never before remarked. I saw, for instance,
that, in speaking of his face as a handsome mask, I had been nearer the
truth than I had known. On more than one occasion, while his lips were
parted in a genial smile, I observed in his eyes an expression strangely
at variance therewith. It was the expression of a cat when it crouches
to spring upon a mouse. I have seen that look bent upon my betrothed. I
have caught it directed at myself. There was a restlessness, too, which
gave the lie to his nonchalant manner. I could see that he forced
himself to remain still. His fingers were always busy with something or
other.

These were trifles, and equally trivial seemed the sarcasms which he
directed at me now and again. These I attributed to the ebullitions of
temper, natural enough in a defeated suitor. In my heart I pitied him,
for I fancied I knew what a struggle it must have cost him to stand
aside and watch a successful rival's happiness.

As the days passed, a certain constraint appeared to have arisen between
Evie and myself. I told myself that the idea was foolish, and yet I knew
that it was not so. Mind, I had not the slightest doubt as to the
strength of Evie's love for me. She expressed it clearly, yet there was
something drawing us apart, and I began to be afraid.

Towards the middle of June the tension became so great, that I could see
the time had arrived when it would be necessary to do something; and,
one night, I determined to mention the matter. Accordingly, after
dinner, I persuaded Evie to come into the garden, with the intention to
speak firmly in my mind. There, however, in the faint light of the
summer night, with the sweet scent of the early roses filling the air, I
forgot everything in the blissfulness of my lot. We had paced our
favourite walk once in silence--my heart was too full of delight for
speech--when, as we retraced our steps, to my surprise, Evie burst
suddenly into passionate tears. Some minutes elapsed before I could calm
her, and when I managed at last to do so, it needed all my powers of
persuasion to get her to confide in me the cause of her outburst. At
first she said it was nothing but the hysteria of happiness. Then she
asked me, with a fierce clutch on my arm, if I should think her
unmaidenly if she asked that our wedding-day should be hastened. We had
fixed it for September, so I at once suggested July.

Her mood changed at once. She said she was not feeling well, and that I
must not listen to her. But being now thoroughly alarmed at her
obviously nervous condition, I questioned her until I elicited from her
that all her old dread of Mannering had returned, and with double
intensity, in that it was accompanied by a presentiment of disaster to
myself.

"Jim," she said, looking up into my face with eyes which glowed in the
faint light like stars, "I shall not feel sure of you until I am with
you always. I want to be near you to look after you. Every moment you
are absent from my side, I am imagining all sorts of horrible things
happening to you. And it is worse to bear, because, it seems to me, that
I am the cause of it all."

I strove to laugh away her fears, but, say what I would, I could not
dispel the thought in her mind that some disaster threatened our love.
Probing her mind for the foundation of her belief, I was not surprised
to find that Mannering had something to do with it.

I did my best to make her mind easy, while determining that I would at
once take steps to secure change of air and scene for her at some spot
where my late rival should not come. She became tolerably composed at
last, and I took her back to the drawing-room, where I was glad to find
Mrs. Winter, in whom I recognized a most useful sedative for
over-excited nerves.

We had a little music, and with that and the commonplaces of
conversation, the evening passed until eleven had struck, and the
Colonel's yawns warned me that the time had arrived for taking my
departure.

The Winters and myself had just risen to leave when we heard a hasty
step on the gravel outside, and, turning, we saw a man's figure at one
of the French windows opening on to the garden.

"Hullo!" said the Colonel. "Who's that?"

The new-comer stepped into the room, and, as the light fell upon his
face, I recognized Forrest. He nodded to me and turned to the Colonel.

"I trust you will excuse this unceremonious call of mine, Colonel
Maitland," he said. "But I was desirous of seeing Mr. Sutgrove
immediately, and I guessed I should find him here."

"I'll excuse you, if you will come to the smoking-room and drink Mr.
Sutgrove's health in a whisky-and-seltzer," replied the Colonel,
heartily.

"I don't think I can spare the time," said the detective, quietly.

"Nonsense, man! You must drink the health of my future son-in-law!" he
declared.

"Most certainly," remarked Forrest. "I can find time for that, even
though----" He paused, and then said, with quiet incisiveness, "Even
though the Motor Pirate is upon the road again!"



CHAPTER XV

A CLUE AT LAST


IMMEDIATELY Forrest had made his dramatic announcement, I glanced at
Evie, for in view of the apprehension she had exhibited earlier in the
evening, I was just a little doubtful as to whether she would take
kindly to the renewal of my attempts to catch the Pirate. To my
satisfaction, she exhibited no signs of trepidation, if she did not
appear altogether delighted that I was to have another opportunity of
distinguishing myself. In fact as soon as the detective had followed
Colonel Maitland from the room, she told me that she was glad.

"I don't fear for you a scrap, Jim. At least not much," she said. "I
know you won't do anything foolish, for my sake."

I interrupted with, "Nor for my own."

"And do you know," she continued, "I have a queer sort of impression
that when the Pirate is captured, this horrible depression which has
been hanging over me will disappear altogether."

"Then captured he must be without delay," I said.

"Though I don't see how Mannering will be affected thereby."

"I am not so sure about that," said Evie.

"You surely cannot think that Mannering is in any way connected with the
Motor Pirate?" I inquired in surprise, for any such idea had long passed
from my mind.

"I don't know," she remarked dreamily; "I don't know. But I should not
be surprised. I really could believe anything about him."

I reminded her of the steps Forrest had taken to assure himself that
there were no grounds for such a suspicion, but she was not convinced;
so I forbore to continue the discussion, changing the conversation to
the arrangements to be made for her proposed visit to Norfolk. It was
decided that I should write at once to my aunt, and that she should be
ready to start the moment I received a reply. We had settled all the
preliminaries by the time the Colonel and Forrest returned, and I bade
her good night, feeling quite easy in my mind.

"I am delighted to be able to congratulate you," said Forrest, the
moment we were outside.

"I am the luckiest man in the world," I replied.

"You are," returned the detective, emphatically. "All the same, I should
not have been sorry if Miss Maitland had stuck to her intention of
refusing to listen to you until after the capture of the Pirate."

"Why?" I demanded.

"For purely selfish reasons," he replied. "I take it you will not be so
keen on the chase. Men in your position don't take risks."

I held out my hand to him. "Put your fist in that," I said. "What I have
promised, I stick to; and, to tell the truth, I was never keener on
anything in my life."

"That's good news for me," he answered, and I could tell from his tone
that he meant it. Besides, he was not a man given to the paying of idle
compliments.

We were walking quietly towards my cottage as we talked, and the impulse
came upon me to confide to him the presentiment which Evie had in regard
to the capture of the Pirate relieving her from her burden of fear. That
necessitated my explaining as well as I could the curious influence
which Mannering exercised over her. Forrest listened attentively.

"Curious," he muttered, when I had finished. "It is very curious that
the fellow should have produced such an impression on Miss Maitland. By
the way, he was not at the Colonel's to-night."

"No," I replied.

"I wonder----" he began. He never finished the sentence, nor did he
speak again until he reached my door. There he paused, and said lightly,
"I think I should like to discover whether the disappointed lover is at
home to-night. Are you prepared for a little amateur burglary,
Sutgrove?"

"Ready for anything," I assured him.

"It seems a little absurd to suspect Mannering," he remarked
meditatively. "Yet there are times when a woman's intuition is a better
guide than a man's ratiocination."

"You didn't get any clue in Amsterdam, then?" I asked tentatively, for I
was curious to hear the results of his journey.

"No, no. Nothing at all in Holland."

"If Mannering were the Pirate, and had tried to dispose of his plunder
there, you would in all probability have caught him; but he would
scarcely have chosen to go abroad at the same time as yourself," I
remarked.

Forrest emitted a long, low whistle. "By Jove!" he said. "Then it was
indeed he whom I saw in Vienna."

"In Vienna?" I queried.

"When did he leave England?" asked the detective, ignoring my question.

"The very day you left," I replied promptly.

"Come, this is getting interesting," he said. "Tonight we will most
certainly let the Pirate do his worst on the roads. We will look for a
clue to the mystery of his identity nearer home." He looked at his
watch. "It's a little too early to pay our call, so if you don't mind, I
will come in and we can discuss the matter at leisure."

To say that Forrest's enigmatic utterances filled me with excitement,
very inadequately expresses the state of my mind. He followed me
indoors, and, while I mixed a drink for each of us, he saw that the
windows and doors were closed. Then seating himself in an easy chair, he
selected a cigar and remarked--

"Now we can talk."

"I thought you only intended to go to Amsterdam," I began.

"That was my intention," he replied. "But before giving you the results
of my inquiries--it won't take long, by the way--I should like to ask
you one or two questions, if I may?"

"Fire away," I said.

"Did you mention to any one where I had gone?"

"Not to a soul. At least certainly not at the time, though I have
probably mentioned the matter to Miss Maitland since."

"Oh, you young lovers!" he interjected.

"She would not speak of the matter, I know. I gave out to every one else
that you had been recalled to London."

"Anyway, it would not have mattered if she had, as Mannering left on the
same day as myself. Where did he say he was going?"

"He said he was bound for Paris on business connected with some patents
he was applying for. He told us he would be absent for two or three
days; and as a matter of fact, he was away for ten."

"That would about fit in," remarked the detective, after a moment's
thought. "But of that you shall judge for yourself." He moistened his
lips and pulled at his cigar until it was well alight, and then he
commenced his story.

"I carried out my original intention, and the night after I left you I
caught the 8.30 at Liverpool Street. The next morning I was in
Amsterdam. I stayed there three days, until I was quite convinced that
no such parcel of diamonds as had been stolen had been offered for sale
to any of the Dutch dealers. I could not have failed to hear of it if
any such attempt had been made. While there I had the good fortune to
make the acquaintance of a Russian agent, whose work I fancy must have
been largely political. Ivan Stroviloff his name was, and he had
acquaintances in most European capitals. I discussed the matter with
him. He thought that an attempt to dispose of the stones was much more
likely to be made in Vienna or St. Petersburg than anywhere else except
Paris. I was aware of our agents in Paris having been fully informed,
and I knew it was not worth my while to go there; but beyond notifying
the Austrian police, I doubted whether any steps had been taken in
regard to Vienna, so I determined to proceed to the Austrian capital.
Stroviloff proved a very decent fellow, rather an exception to the
general run, for I don't take to those Russian agents as a rule; and as
I was able to give him a few hints and some introductions over here--he
was going on to London--he gave me in return letters to some of his
colleagues in Vienna and Petersburg, thinking they would probably be of
more use to me than application through the usual official channels.
Well, I went on to Vienna. I won't weary you with a history of my
fruitless inquiries, it would take far too much time. Anyhow, I did find
eventually that a parcel of diamonds had been disposed of there, and, as
Stroviloff had predicted, I obtained the information through one of the
Russian agents and not through the Viennese police. I will say that I do
not see how the latter could have helped me, for the purchaser was the
representative of a Petersburg house who happened to be in Vienna for
the purpose of attending the sale of the Princess Novikoff's jewels--you
probably saw all about it in the papers."

It was a remarkable sale, and the extraordinary prices realized are
probably fresh in most people's memories. I told Forrest I had seen
accounts of it, and he continued.

"Unfortunately I did not get the information until after the
representative in question had returned to Petersburg. There was nothing
left for me to do but to follow him there if I wanted to satisfy myself
as to whether the stones of which I had heard were really the ones
stolen from the mail. It was rather like a wild goose chase, but I went.
It was the day before I started that I saw the man who reminded me so
forcibly of your friend Mannering. It was a very fleeting glimpse of a
face which looked in at the door of a restaurant where I happened to be
dining, and I should not like to swear that it was he whom I saw. At the
time, I put my fancy down to one of those casual likenesses which
sometimes lead even keen observers to accost total strangers in the
streets as acquaintances. The likeness was, however, undeniable, in
spite of something strange about his appearance. However, I paid no
attention to the incident, and the next morning I was on my way to
Petersburg. There I found no difficulty in obtaining full particulars
from the dealer. I have no doubt but that he has purchased the stones
which were stolen from the Brighton mail. In size, weight, and quality
they answered to the description perfectly. I learned from him that the
man from whom he had bought the stones had been introduced to him by a
well-known Viennese jeweller. The price asked, though not very greatly
below market value, was low enough to tempt him to purchase. The man who
offered them suggested that payment should be made, not to himself, but
to his firm in Amsterdam. The transaction seemed in every way _bonâ
fide_, the explanation as to the low price being that the Amsterdam firm
was rather pressed for cash, and so compelled to realize some of its
stock, but was unable to do so in Amsterdam for fear of jeopardizing its
credit. The man who sold the stones gave the name of Josef Hoffman, and
the merchant produced his card which bore the name of Jacob Meyer and
Meyer, and an address in the De Jordaan, Amsterdam. He was described to
me as a tall, powerful, fresh-coloured, fair-haired German, of pleasant
manners and address. The Petersburg merchant's representative had given
him a draft on an Amsterdam bank and, on reaching the Russian capital,
after examining the stones, his employer had authorized the payment of
the draft by telegraph.

"As soon as I obtained these particulars, I started once more for the
Dutch city without wasting much time. Needless to say, I was too late to
catch my man. The office in the De Jordaan I found to be a room which
had been taken for a week or two, and then vacated, by a person whom I
easily identified as the fair-haired German. The draft had been
exchanged for a draft on the banker's London agents by the same man. I
came on to London immediately, but Hoffman, or whatever his name may be,
was a week ahead of me. I traced him to the London bank where he had
cashed his draft. He did it in the coolest manner imaginable. He left it
one day saying that he required gold, and that if they would get the
amount ready--it was over £4000--he would call for it the next day. He
actually allowed two days to elapse before doing so. Then he came in a
cab with a handbag and took away the gold. That at present is as far as
I have got. I only learned the last of these particulars this afternoon,
and of course I went at once to the Yard to make my report and to
arrange for the circulation of the description of the fair-haired German
throughout the country. Then I came on to you."

Forrest finished his drink and stood up. "Now you know as much about the
case as I do," he remarked, "and I fancy it is about time for us to pay
our proposed visit to our friend Mannering."

"I don't see how you can connect him in any way with Hoffman," I said,
as I rose from my seat.

Forrest smiled. "I omitted to tell you one thing," he observed. "I could
not see the hair of the man in Vienna whose face seemed familiar to me.
But one thing I did remark. The man with Mannering's face wore a fair
moustache."

"But Mannering's is dark," I argued. "It was dark when he went away and
dark when he returned."

Forrest held up his hand mockingly. "In these days of scientific
progress nothing is easier than for the intelligent leopard to change
his spots. Ask the brunette when fashion decrees that fair hair is to be
worn, and ask again of the blonde how she manages when the exigencies
demand raven tresses."

That settled me. "There's only one thing more," I said. "When did you
hear that the Motor Pirate was at work again?"

"At St. Albans. I called at the police office on my way here. He was
seen about ten o'clock this side of Peterborough and going north."

"It will be rather a sell if Mannering is at home," I remarked.

"He will not be at home," replied Forrest with conviction.



CHAPTER XVI

I COMMIT A BURGLARY


THE night was moonless, but there was that soft diffused light in the
air invariable in June, except on the cloudiest of evenings. There was
just enough of it to enable us to see our way as we strolled towards
Mannering's house. When we reached it everything appeared still. All the
windows were dark. I felt my heart beginning to beat faster than
ordinarily as Forrest lifted the latch of the gate opening on to the
strip of garden, which lay between the road and the house. We walked
along the turf edging of the path in order that our feet might not
crunch upon the gravel. Forrest was first. He went straight to the front
door and tried it. It was fast.

"We will try one of those French windows," he whispered after returning
to my side.

The house was a two-story cottage with a verandah opening on the south
side facing a lawn. On to this verandah windows opened from both the
dining and sitting-rooms, the servants' quarters being on the other side
of the house.

We went round the angle of the building and tried the first window. It
was fastened. With cat-like tread Forrest glided on to the second. It
was one of the two giving entrance to the sitting-room. A sibilant sound
from the detective's lips took me to his side. Without hesitating a
second, he threw back the casement and stepped into the darkness.

"Come," he muttered, and I followed.

Heavy curtains veiled the windows and past these the darkness was thick
enough to be felt. Of a sudden there was a crack which made me start. It
was only Forrest striking a match. With imperturbable confidence, he
stepped towards a table and lit the lamp which stood thereon. I felt
exceedingly uncomfortable, but Forrest obviously knew no such qualms,
for he at once proceeded to examine every object in the room. So far as
I could see, there was nothing at all unusual about the place. The room
was in exactly the same condition as I had observed it hundreds of times
before when I had dropped in for a smoke and a chat. On the table,
beside the lamp, was a tantalus and a glass, and a half empty syphon.
The glass had been used and the ash on the floor, beside an armchair,
showed that a cigar had accompanied the drink. A pair of slippers lay on
the hearth rug as if they had been carelessly kicked off. Forrest
pointed to them.

"Mannering is not at home," he said. "If he had gone to bed, these would
not be here."

"I hope he will not return while we are about," I muttered.

"It would be a little awkward for him," said Forrest, calmly. "I should
be compelled to arrest him in self-defence, and I am not prepared to do
so at present."

He did not, however, hurry his movements in any way as he proceeded to
deliberately search the room. Only once did he pause, and that was when
he discovered a continental time-table of recent date. He brought the
book to the light and turned over the pages carefully. A gleam of
exultation crossed his face, as he pointed out to me a trace of tobacco
ash between the pages which gave details of the train service between
Vienna and Amsterdam.

"We are on the right track," he observed.

But that one slight piece of evidence was all that the most careful
examination of the room revealed, although there was not a drawer nor a
shelf which he did not overhaul.

"We must try his bedroom," he remarked, when he had finished with the
sitting-room.

"What about the servants?" I asked.

"If they are not asleep, they will merely imagine that it is their
master going to bed," he replied, as taking a candlestick, which stood
on an occasional table near the door, he passed out of the room. I
followed him upstairs, with my heart in my mouth, and pointed out to him
the door of the room which Mannering occupied. As Forrest turned the
handle and entered, I was quite prepared to make a bolt for it. I should
not have been a bit surprised to have discovered our suspect sleeping
quietly within. But Forrest turned and beckoned me to enter. The room
was empty, and this time I assisted the detective in his search.
Between us we subjected the bedroom and the adjoining dressing-room to
the closest scrutiny, but without result. We could not, unfortunately,
make an exhaustive examination, for there were one or two ancient
presses which were locked, and the Chubb safe let into the wall by the
bed head was likewise fastened.

The detective shrugged his shoulders when we had done.

"As we haven't a burglar's outfit, we shall have to wait until we have a
search warrant," he muttered.

With a disappointed air he led the way out of the room. On the landing
he paused. His keen gaze had rested for a moment on a travelling bag
which stood under a table. There were the remains of a number of labels
upon it and he scanned them carefully. There was no sufficient of any
one of them left for identification.

"He's a clever devil," he whispered.

Then he opened the bag and again his countenance lightened. Inside was
an empty bottle bearing the label of a London chemist, with the
additional superscription--"Peroxide of Hydrogen."

"The fair hair is accounted for," commented Forrest. "And as for the dye
which would restore his locks to their natural colour, I presume he has
it under lock and key."

He slipped the bottle into his pocket and returned downstairs, I
following at his heels.

"There's not enough at present against him to warrant his arrest," he
said, when we were again in the sitting-room.

"Then why not have a look round his workshops," I suggested.

"His what?" queried Forrest, eagerly.

"Haven't I ever mentioned them to you? Haven't you ever heard that
Mannering spends all his spare time in experimental motor construction?"
I asked in surprise.

"I think I have heard it mentioned, but until this moment I have always
thought it was chaff," he replied.

"Good heavens!" I ejaculated.

"I should have been inside that shop a couple of months ago," he
continued, "if I had thought---- Whereabouts is the shop?"

"Just at the back of the house and abutting on the side of the road," I
explained. "The old coach-house and stables." Then as the thought
occurred to me, I continued, "Why I heard him tell you of his work
himself."

"That's precisely the reason why I paid no attention to it," said my
companion. "Can you take me to the place?"

I led the way through the French window, Forrest putting out the light
before he followed me, and carefully closing the casement behind him as
he stepped on to the verandah. A clock, somewhere in St. Albans, struck
the half after two as we crossed the lawn in the direction of the
workshop.

"We have only a short time at our disposal," whispered Forrest. "The
darkness is lifting, and our friend will soon be returning."

We passed through a side door, which we found unlocked, into what had
once been the stable-yard. But we could get no further. The two doors
which gave admission to the building were firmly fastened, and there was
no available window by which we might gain entrance. We retraced our
steps, and, passing out of the door, approached the stables from the
road. By this time the dawn had made such progress that we knew our
chances of getting inside before Mannering's return were dwindling
rapidly. We found no more likelihood of obtaining admission from this
side than the other.

"I cannot arrest a man on the evidence of a few grains of tobacco dust,
and an empty phial," declared Forrest, savagely, as he shook the tightly
locked door. "Listen!" I said.

Borne on the wind came the throb of a motor. So still was the air that
when the sound first reached our ears it must have been a mile away. The
sound drew nearer and nearer, and while it was still a quarter of a mile
distant, I recognized the familiar noise of Mannering's car, a sound as
dissimilar to the hum of the Pirate car as it was possible to conceive.

"Forrest," I cried, turning to my companion, "we must be mad to think
that Mannering could play the part of the Motor Pirate on that old car
of his."

There was something so irresistibly ludicrous in the idea, that we both
indulged in a hearty fit of laughter, and with one accord we turned and
walked down the road.

"He may keep his fast car elsewhere," remarked the detective, when his
mirth had subsided.

"It would be difficult to bring the guilt home to him if we failed to
discover the car," I replied.

A few seconds later we met the man whom we had so lately suspected. I
felt a tinge of shame at the thought that, a few minutes previously, I
had been sneaking into his house in the hope that I should find evidence
to convict him of a crime. By this time dawn was sufficiently advanced
to allow of recognition, and as he came level with us Mannering pulled
up.

"Hullo, Sutgrove!" he shouted. "You're about betimes. Been on the same
job as myself?"

"What's that, Mr. Mannering?" asked Forrest

"Looking for an opportunity to pay back this little debt," was the light
answer, as the speaker tapped his shoulder gently.

"Any luck?" said Forrest, dryly.

"Not a scrap," was the ready reply. "You see I'm a bit handicapped with
this old car, for unless the fellow happens to take the same road as
myself, there's precious little chance of my picking him up. Still, if
you do not soon succeed in catching him, I think I shall have a good try
myself."

"I suppose by that you know who he is," I remarked, more in order to see
what he would say than in the hope of eliciting anything.

"Not the slightest idea on the subject," he responded promptly. "I am
merely hoping that in a few days I shall be in possession of a new motor
from which even the Pirate will be unable to escape."

I made a gesture of surprise.

"Fact," he continued. "My experiments have proved successful at last. In
a week I shall have delivered to me the new motor I have designed, and
then the Pirate had better look out. Good night."

Waving an adieu, he set his car in motion, and jogged along until he
reached the door of his coach-house. We watched him dismount, unlock the
door, and disappear inside.

"It beats me," remarked Forrest.

"Surely you do not still harbour any suspicion concerning him?" I
inquired in amazement.

Forrest made no reply. His head was bent, his brow knitted deeply, his
hands clasped behind him as we turned and walked back to my place. He
did not speak until we stopped on my doorstep.

"I wish he had not seen us," my companion then remarked. "He will be
bound to tumble to the conclusion that we suspect him, and will be on
his guard."

"Then you do still suspect him," I cried again.

"If I had one scrap of direct evidence," replied the detective,
emphatically, "I would have him under arrest within half an hour. Only
one little scrap," he almost groaned. "But, as it is, my reputation
would not survive if I made a mistake."

"Why, you don't imagine that he would go so far as to shoot himself just
to avert suspicion," I asked, still incredulous.

Forrest drew himself up smartly. "Good Lord! What a fool I am!
What--a--blind--dunderheaded--jackass!" he cried.

"What's the matter now?" I inquired smiling, for the detective was
groping in his pockets. "Have you lost anything?"

From his waistcoat pocket he produced a small leaden bullet, and he held
it outstretched in the palm of his hand.

"Here have I been wasting weeks on the continent, while with this I
might have settled the matter once and for all."

"How?" I asked.

"I needed but to compare this with the bullet the surgeon extracted from
Mannering's shoulder. This is the one which killed the poor fellow near
Towcester. If Mannering's bullet is identical with this, I should have
nothing more to say; but," he continued meaningly, "both your revolver
and mine are of a different calibre to the weapon which fired this. If
the bullet which hit Mannering should prove to fit either of our
weapons, there would be no need to seek for further evidence. I must see
that surgeon at once."

He started off rapidly down the garden path. I hurried after him and
laid my hand on his arm.

"Steady, old man," I remarked. "You can hardly knock up a hardworked
medical man at 3.30 a.m. just to ask him a question."

Forrest stopped and gave a short laugh. "Upon my word, I had entirely
forgotten what the time was. No, you are quite right. There is no need
for such excessive hurry. Mannering is safe enough for the present."

"At least, for the next eighteen hours," I observed, after glancing at
my watch. "Meanwhile, your room has been kept ready for you."

"A little sleep will not come amiss," he answered, yawning; "though it
seems almost a pity to go to bed on such a morning."

He was right. By this time dawn was breaking with a splendour I have
never seen equalled before nor since. From east to west the sky was
stained and flecked with crimson and gold, and our faces glowed ruddily
in the reflected light. We both fell to silence, as with our faces to
the east we watched the uprising of the sun; and, until the sky paled as
the sun made its appearance above the line of the horizon, we did not
stir.

Then Forrest drew a deep breath. "There's been the beauty of destruction
in the sunrise," he remarked. "We shall have a storm before nightfall."

He followed me indoors, and, leaving him at the door of his room, I went
to my own. I got into my pyjamas, but I did not feel inclined to sleep
for the sunbeams were glancing in at my window, and all about were the
sound and movement of the awakening earth-creatures. I wheeled an easy
chair to the window, and wrapping a blanket about me, took a novel I had
been reading and strove to fix my attention on the pages. I could not do
so. Whether it was the reflex action of the brain from the excitement of
the evening or not, but the fact was I felt unaccountably depressed. I
fought against the feeling as best I could. But I could not get out of
my head the idea that some great danger was threatening, not myself, but
the one dearest to me in the world. From my window I could see her home,
and I drew the chair into a position where my eyes might rest upon the
roof which sheltered her. There was some consolation in this, and I
watched until I eventually fell into an uneasy slumber, from which I
awakened unrefreshed and ill at ease.



CHAPTER XVII

STORM


MY tub pulled me together to some extent, but I still felt restless when
I went downstairs. Forrest had already gone out, leaving word that he
expected to be back to breakfast at the usual hour. I went into the
garden, but the sun was shining in a cloudless sky and there was not a
breath of air stirring. It was insufferably hot and I was glad to return
into the shade of the house.

The detective came in panting, a little later, with disappointment
plainly written in his face.

"The surgeon out?" I inquired.

"No," he answered. "But he was not much use though. Mannering kept the
bullet. He wanted to retain it, so he said, as a memento of his
adventure."

"Perfectly natural," I commented.

"Perfectly," returned Forrest. "The unfortunate result is, that his
doing so prevents me from dismissing the possibility of his being the
Pirate from my mind. And I ought to be doing something. Last night the
rascal seems to have been everywhere. Apparently he was actuated with a
desire to destroy everything which stood in his path. One would judge
him to have become absolutely reckless. Instead of avoiding the towns,
he courted observation by passing through them. This morning at the
police office, I heard particulars of at least half a dozen cases of
unoffending people being ruthlessly ridden down, and Heaven only knows
how many more there may be of which the details are not yet to hand. The
sheer devilry of his progress is simply amazing. What it comes to is
this, Sutgrove. If I can't get hold of him within the next week I may as
well resign the force at once. If I don't resign I shall be dismissed,
and quite deservedly."

I tried to say something consolatory, but he would not hear me; and it
was not until after he had made a savage attack upon the eggs and
rashers and had swallowed three cups of tea, that his usual equanimity
returned.

"What's the next move?" I asked, when breakfast was done.

"I am going to town to see if I can identify the purchaser of this
bottle," he replied, holding up the phial he had taken from the bag in
Mannering's house the night before; "and to inquire whether anything
more has been heard of the fair-haired German."

"Then I can be of no assistance to you, to-day?" I said.

"None whatever beyond remaining here and keeping an eye upon our friend.
I shall ask for another man to-day to assist in shadowing him, but
until his arrival I should be glad for some one to keep me acquainted
with his movements. If, as I presume you will, you go over to Colonel
Maitland's, you cannot help seeing whether he leaves his house."

I promised to do as he wished, and shortly after he had gone, I took my
hat and strolled over to the Colonel's place.

Evie appeared to have quite recovered from her fears of the previous
evening, and being busily engaged upon domestic duties, she sent me to
join her father under the shade of a big tree on the lawn. There solaced
by an iced lemon squash and the newspaper, I managed to pass the morning
very comfortably. Mannering gave no sign of existence.

I took myself home for lunch, remembering letters I had to write. I felt
much easier in mind, and made a hearty meal in consequence. The result
was that I fell asleep over my cigar afterwards.

I awoke suddenly, wondering where I was. Then I thought I must have
slept for hours, for a blackness only one degree less than that of night
brooded over the earth. I took out my watch lazily, and was surprised to
see that the hands only pointed to five. I sat still for a minute or two
striving to collect my thoughts, for my head was heavy. I held my watch
to my ear. It had not stopped. I jumped up and walked to the window, and
I saw at once the reason why I had imagined that night had fallen. From
east to west and from north to south a dense pall of cloud hung over
the earth. Not a leaf moved, and except for the shrill chirp of a
grasshopper, not a sound broke the uncanny stillness.

"By Jove!" I muttered, "we are going to have it hot."

There came upon me an intense desire to be near Evie during the progress
of the storm which threatened every moment to break. I did not wait to
analyse the feeling, but catching up my hat I bolted straight out of the
window. I had only a couple of hundred yards to traverse, but when I
reached the Colonel's house, so hot and heavy was the air, that I was
soaked from head to foot in perspiration. I paused at the gate to wipe
my brow with my handkerchief, and at the moment the storm broke. I heard
the crackle of the lightning as it slid from the sky, and the thunder
clap followed so swiftly that for a moment I felt deafened. I waited no
longer, but raced across the lawn and into the open French window of the
drawing-room. The apartment was unoccupied, so I passed through into the
hall. That was vacant too, and I continued my search through the
morning-room to the Colonel's sanctum. There I saw the genial warrior
standing at the window, and watching the play of the lightning with
every appearance of interest.

"Hullo, Colonel!" I said. "Where's Evie?"

"Isn't she in the drawing-room? She was there twenty minutes ago," he
replied.

"She is not there now, I have just come through," I explained.

"Then I fancy she will be in all probability in her bedroom with her
head under the sheets," he said, chuckling.

"At all events I will send one of the maids to see," I said.

I rang the bell, and after giving a message to the maid who answered the
summons, I joined the Colonel at the window. He appeared to be very
pleased with the progress the storm was making.

"Thank goodness this will clear the air," he explained, as a reason for
his satisfaction. "It was so hot that I could take no lunch but a
mayonnaise, iced strawberries, and a glass of hock. Don't you think the
air is cooler already? I begin to feel quite an appetite for dinner. My
only fear is that, if the thunder has not turned everything sour, it
will have frightened my cook out of her senses, and there will be
nothing to appease my appetite."

The window at which we were standing faced towards Mannering's house.
There was a stretch of lawn outside and, beyond, a thicket of shrubs and
small trees between the grounds of the two residences. I was glancing in
the direction of these, when I thought I saw something white moving in
the shrubbery. I was about to say something to the Colonel when a crash
of thunder drowned the utterance. At the next flash of lightning, I
perceived that my eyes had not deceived me, and in an instant I jumped
to the conclusion that it was Evie who was out there in the storm.
Without a moment's hesitation I vaulted through the window and raced
across the lawn. The Colonel must have thought me mad.

It was something of a shock for me to find that I was right in my
conjecture. There, huddled up under the spreading branches of a cedar,
stood my darling, her eyes wide open, her cheeks blanched with terror.

"Why, Evie, dear heart! What is the matter?" I cried.

At the sound of my voice she started, and, with a little cry of delight,
she threw herself into my arms.

"I knew you would come--I knew you would come!" she sobbed hysterically.

The cedar under which she was standing was close to the hedge, and I
fancied, as she spoke, that I saw a figure move away from the other side
of the hedge. I could not verify my suspicion, for Evie needed all my
attention. She had fainted. Catching her up, I bore her across the lawn
to the house.

It was some time before she came to herself, and then, at her own
request, I left her with her maid and returned to the Colonel. Needless
to say I was very much worried in my mind. Why Evie should have been
sheltering in the shrubbery from the storm, with the house so near,
seemed unexplainable, and I awaited with anxiety the time when I could
learn the reason from her own lips. The presence of the figure--the
figure of a man--on the opposite side of the hedge, was also
inexplicable. I should have guessed it to be Mannering, but I would have
staked my life upon Evie's truthfulness when she had told me how much
she had learned to detest him. Besides, her delight was obvious when I
arrived on the scene.

Not until the evening, however, did I get a chance of speaking to Evie
again. The Colonel and I dined alone, Evie sending word to say that the
storm had left her with a headache, and that she would join us later. I
was so silent during the meal that my host grew quite merry at my
expense.

"Wait till you are married, my boy," he remarked. "There will come times
when you will be grateful for these feminine headaches."

I hate cheap witticisms of this sort, but I could hardly resent them
from the Colonel as I could have done had they fallen from any one
else's lips; but I fancy he saw at last that they were distasteful to
me, for after a while he forebore to comment upon my dour looks.

About ten Evie came downstairs. By this time the storm had passed away
entirely, and the air was deliciously fresh and cool after the rain. It
was a strangely subdued girl who came nervously to me, and shrank away
from me as I kissed her.

"No, Jim, no! You mustn't do that," she said.

Colonel Maitland had slipped away upon his daughter's entrance, and we
were alone.

"Why, darling, what ails you?" I asked.

"Nothing--nothing. Oh! don't ask me," she almost wailed in reply.

I put my arm about her waist, and drew her down beside me to a seat on
a big Chesterfield drawn before one of the windows. She resisted faintly
at first, but presently I heard her give a sigh of content, and felt her
nestle towards me. Then I spoke.

"Tell me, dear, what possessed you to go out into the storm?"

"I don't know," she murmured--"I don't know. I--I felt that I must. I
didn't think it was going to break so soon, and then the first flash of
lightning and the voice of the thunder! It was like judgment day."

"It is all passed and over," I remarked, with a man's clumsy attempt at
consolation.

"I wish it were--I wish it were," she repeated, with an indrawn sigh.

"It is all over hours ago," I said.

She broke away from me passionately. "Oh! Jim, you don't know," she
cried.

"I don't know what?" I inquired, as I attempted to draw her to me again.

She pushed my hands away with a gesture of despair. Then with an effort
she rose to her feet, and looking at me straight in the face, she said--

"Jim, this must not go on. It is more than I can bear."

I rose to my feet too, my heart beating wildly. "I don't understand
you," I answered, though I comprehended her meaning only too well. "What
must not go on?"

"Our--our engagement," she faltered. She was white to the lips as she
said the words.

I staggered back under the blow, then leaning forward I sought to take
her hand.

"No, Jim, no!" she said. "It's no use; I can never be yours. It is
impossible--quite impossible. My love would be fatal to you! I know it
will! He said so."

"He?" I asked.

She faltered. "Oh! I cannot help believing him. He tells me that I am to
be his." She shuddered. "Jim, you must leave me, and never see me again.
I cannot have your--your blood on my hands."

She held out her slender white fingers, and I saw that the ring which I
had placed there had been removed. Though my brain was awhirl, I tried
my utmost to be calm. I think the effort was successful, and that my
voice was fairly even when I said--

"Come, darling, a promise is a promise, and my own little girl is not
going to break her promise because of the threats of a jealous rival."

She shuddered from head to foot. "You don't know him as I know him," she
murmured. "He would stick at nothing, Jim. I don't think he is a man; he
must be a devil. He can do things no man ever thought of doing."

"You exaggerate his capacities for evil," I said, as equably as I was
able, for her agitation was so great that I feared for her reason. "What
has Mannering been saying to you, for it was he whom I saw behind the
hedge when I brought you out of the storm, I suppose?"

"You saw him?" she queried. "Then it is true. I have been hoping you
would tell me I had been dreaming again."

"I saw nothing very terrible about him," I remarked.

"You don't know him," she said again.

"He will have cause to know me before many hours have passed," I
declared savagely.

She clung to me in terror. "No, Jim. You must not go near him. You do
not know the power he exercises. This afternoon I was sitting thinking
of you when I became conscious that he was telling me to come to him.
There was no reason why I should have thought so. He was not in sight,
but I was bound to go."

"And you found him waiting for you?" I asked quietly, though my brain
was aflame, for I was determined to ascertain all that had passed
between them.

"He was waiting for me," she repeated--"waiting for me and the storm.
That must have come at his bidding too. It was horrible waiting for him
to speak--horrible! I tried to ask him what he wanted, but my tongue was
tied. Not until after the first peal of thunder did he utter a word.
Then he told me the time was nearly at hand when he should come for me."
I clenched my fists involuntarily, but I did not interrupt my darling's
story. "I begged of him to leave me free. He paid no heed. 'I am going
away,' he said. 'For three days you will see nothing of me, though all
England will be talking of my deeds. On the third I shall return. Mind
you are ready.'"

"Did you not mention me?" I remarked weakly. I hardly knew what to say,
for it seemed to me that either Evie must be the victim of some
extraordinary hallucination, or else that Mannering was mad.

"He mentioned you," she replied. "'Tell Sutgrove,' he said, 'that he has
three days in which to capture the Motor Pirate and make sure of his
bride. After that he will be too late. Tell him, too, that death waits
on the fool who fails.'"

"It's a sporting challenge," I muttered, for I had no doubt now in my
mind that Mannering and the Pirate were identical.

My words did not reach Evie's ear, for she continued,

"Now you know why I have put away your ring. He is too strong for us. I
must do as he bids me. I----"

I interrupted her sharply. "Have you everything packed to go away on
your visit to Norfolk to-morrow?" I asked.

The tone of my voice roused her. She looked at me wildly.

"Why--why----" she said. Then the expression faded out of her face. For
the second time that day she had fainted.



CHAPTER XVIII

IN WHICH THE PIRATE APPEARS IN A FROLICSOME HUMOUR


THE fainting fit which terminated my conversation with Evie alarmed me
tremendously, and as soon as I could summon assistance I sent for a
doctor. She came round before the medical man arrived, but I did not
revert to the topic which had agitated her. Indeed, she appeared
listless and disinclined to say a word on any subject. Colonel Maitland
was less worried than myself, but even he was anxious until after the
doctor had seen her and assured him that his daughter was merely
suffering from over excitement, and that a sedative and a good night's
rest would probably restore her completely.

I was not so sure that such would be the case, and when she had retired
I thought it well to take the Colonel into his study and give him as
full an account as I could of all that had led up to the fainting fit.
He listened to my story with attention, and when I had done, though I
could plainly see that he thought his daughter's fears were due to her
own morbid fancy, yet he agreed with me that it would be well that she
should have a change of scene at the earliest possible moment.

After arriving at this decision I determined to at once seek out
Mannering, and demand from him some explanation of his conduct, for I
could not conceive that Evie's story was entirely the outcome of her
imagination. It was a delicate subject to discuss, yet I did not
hesitate. I was in no humour to mince matters. My anger, though I had
kept it well under control hitherto, only needed the slightest fanning
to bring it to a white heat, and I longed whole-heartedly that Mannering
would afford me some excuse for giving physical expression to my
feelings.

I walked up to his front door, and knocked in a manner to denote with
sufficient distinctiveness that the mood of the knocker was the
imperative. I could see by the lights within that the inmates of the
house had not retired to rest, but I had to repeat my summons before
there was any response. Then I heard footsteps within, and the door
opening an inch or two, a voice inquired who was there.

"Is Mr. Mannering in?" I demanded.

"Mr. Sutgrove, is it?" replied the voice, and upon my answering in the
affirmative, the door was thrown open, and I saw the two maidservants
standing in the hall.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the parlourmaid. "We didn't expect any
one at this time of night."

"That's all right," I answered. "Can I see Mr. Mannering?"

"He's gone away for a day or two, sir," said the girl.

"That's very sudden, isn't it?" I asked. "I saw him this afternoon."

"Yes, sir. He said nothing about it to us until after dinner. Then he
packed his handbag and went away on his motor."

"It's a confounded nuisance," I remarked. "I wanted to see him on
important business. Did he say where he was going?"

"He said Cromer, sir, but he did not leave any address." Then, after a
momentary hesitation, she added, "Is--is anything wrong?"

I looked at her keenly. She dropped her eyes, and I could see there was
something on her mind.

"What makes you ask?" I enquired.

"I--I don't know," she replied, with obvious embarrassment.

"There must be something or you would not have asked," I said
encouragingly. "Come--out with it."

She still hesitated, but the housemaid was bolder. "I'll tell the
gentleman if you don't, Sarah," she declared. "It's like this, sir," she
rattled out volubly: "the master, Mr. Mannering that is, has been so
queer in his ways lately that Sarah and me 'as been quite scared. Not
that he 'asn't been quite the gentleman. He always was that, wasn't he,
Sarah? But he's been that restless and bound up in himself
lately--walking up and down in his room and talking to himself. He
always was one to shut himself up in that nasty old coach-house with his
experiments and things, but he was quiet, and we never took no account
of it. But lately he's been different."

"How?" I asked.

"Well, instead of going to bed like a Christian he's up all hours of the
night. It ain't only that. He slips out as if he didn't want us to see
him, and when we've known he hasn't been at home we've found he's taken
the trouble to tumble the bed to make it appear as how he slept in it."

"Pooh!" I remarked. "If that's all, my servants would probably say the
same about me. You need not be alarmed about such trifles."

"But it's not all," said Sarah, taking up the story. "The nights he goes
out are just the nights the Pirate makes his appearance."

"Those are just the nights I am away from home," I said.

"But you have the detective gentleman with you," argued the girl, "and
when you come back I warrant you do not bring diamond studs back with
you that don't belong to you."

"What!" I cried. "What!"

"It's truth, sir," said the housemaid. "A week ago, just after he came
back from Paris, I was sweeping the floor of his bedroom, when I sweeps
up a diamond stud. Now, I knew he never had such a thing----"

"I suppose you know exactly what jewellery he has?" I interrupted,
laughing.

"He always was a very careless gentleman until the last month, before
which he left his things lying about all over the place, but then he had
a safe put in his bedroom, and he never so much as left the key lying
about. However, I mentions the stud to Sarah, and we talks it over and
puts two and two together, and Sarah thinks that if he doesn't ask what
has become of it, it might be as well as if we told the detective
gentleman about it."

"Quite right," I remarked. "You might let me look at the stud, though."

After a little pressing the girls fetched the trinket, and I perceived
that it very closely resembled the stud Winter had worn on the night of
our first encounter with the Pirate. I said nothing about this
supposition to the maids, but bidding them to be careful not to mention
the matter to any one until they had seen Forrest, whom I promised
should call upon them, I left the house.

Though disappointed in my original intention of forcing an explanation
from Mannering, I was by no means ill pleased with the result of my
visit to his house. My suspicions as to his identity with the Pirate had
become considerably stronger, and once that identity was established I
fancied I should have little difficulty in preventing any further
annoyance at his hands.

Yet when I came to think calmly upon the subject I could not fail to see
how frail was the foundation upon which my suspicions were built up. The
fancies of a girl, the suspicions of a couple of gossiping servants, and
the discovery of a stud, which might or might not prove to be the one
which had been stolen from Winter. I longed for Forrest to return, for I
felt utterly incapable of resting, and as he had not put in an
appearance by midnight, I got out my car and went into St. Albans to
meet him. At the police station there was no news of him to be obtained,
but I did learn that the Pirate had been seen, his presence having been
reported from the vicinity of Bedford.

Knowing that it would be impossible for me to sleep until I had seen
Forrest; knowing, too, how unlikely it was that he would now return to
St. Albans before morning, I thought I might at least have one shot on
my own account of bringing off the capture I so ardently desired. So, in
case of an untoward accident happening, I scribbled a note to the
detective, telling him briefly what I had heard from the servants, and
my intentions; and making sure that my revolver was in working order, I
bade my friends at the police-station good night, and departed.

I knew it would be useless to take the direct road to Bedford if I
wished to meet the Pirate, and, as he had been reported going east, I
took the route through Hertford, trusting that I might be able to cut
him off upon his return. I gleaned nothing concerning him at either
Hertford or Ware, and was so doubtful of proceeding further in that
direction that I left it to the arbitrament of a coin to determine
whether I should go on by a road with which I was unacquainted to
Cambridge through Bishop's Stortford, or take a route I knew through
Royston. The choice fell upon the Stortford road, and later I was glad
I had taken it, for about a mile to the south of Stortford I discovered
that I was upon the right track.

I was bowling along at about fifteen miles an hour when I came upon two
horses grazing at the road-side. They galloped off at my approach, and,
a few seconds later, I came upon a specimen of the Pirate's handiwork,
which at first sight was irresistibly ludicrous. A brougham was drawn up
at the side of the road, and, bound to the wheels, were a coachman and a
footman, clad in gorgeous liveries. The coachman was fat and florid, the
footman a particularly fine specimen of flunkeydom, and their faces, as
the light of my lamps fell upon them--they could not speak, for they
were both gagged as well as bound--were so convulsed with terror, that I
could see they did not look upon me as a friend. As I dismounted from my
car to go to their assistance, I heard a dismal wail from the roof of
the vehicle and, looking up, I perceived a portly old lady perched upon
the uncomfortable eminence.

I made an attempt to explain that my intentions were purely pacific, but
as I could elicit nothing from the old lady but appeals to spare her
life, I turned my attention to the two men, and speedily released them
from their bonds. By the time they were loose they had realized that I
was a friend; but it was some time before I managed to obtain from them
an account of how they got into such a mess. Even when their powers of
speech had returned they were unable to give a lucid account of the
affair.

Of course it was the work of the Pirate. They had been returning with
their mistress--the old lady on the roof of the brougham--from some
local coming-of-age festivities, when they had met the rascal. He had
bound the servants, set the horses free, and, after robbing the old lady
of all the jewellery she wore, he had compelled her to climb to the
position where I discovered her, threatening to return and kill her if
she moved from her position for an hour. It needed much persuasion
before she ventured to descend from her perch; but with the assistance
of the coachman, I managed to get her inside the brougham, and further
assisting in securing the two horses, I left them.

This incident delayed me for nearly half an hour, and it was a good deal
past one before I again set out on my quest. The brougham had been
stopped just near a bye-road, and as the footman had assured me that the
Pirate had taken this path when he departed, I thought I would follow. I
could see for myself that a motor-car had passed that way, for the
thunderstorm of the previous day had left the roads heavy in places, and
the marks of his tyres were plainly visible.

I had followed the road for about a couple of miles further when I came
once more upon some of the Pirate's victims. These, too, were returning
from the same function at which the old lady had been a guest, when they
fell into the clutches of the Pirate. In this case my assistance was not
required, for the two young ladies of the party had recovered
sufficiently from their fright to have already set at liberty their male
companion and the coachman. They told me of their experiences, and
after I had heard them, I thought that Forrest's idea that the Pirate
was a madman more likely than I had done previously.

When stopped by the Pirate, the husband of one of the ladies had shown
fight until he had been felled by a blow from the butt end of a
revolver. The coachman had discreetly made no resistance. Then, after
securing the jewels the women wore, the Pirate had displayed a freakish
humour quite new to his character. He had insisted upon the two women
dancing for his amusement in the road, threatening to shoot the husband
if they did not comply with his request. They assured me that he had sat
chuckling with laughter, and urging them on with all sorts of wild
threats, until they fell from exhaustion. They were splashed with mud
from head to foot, and their dainty frocks presented a sorry sight. In
addition they told me that they could barely stand, for their feet were
cut to pieces, since, at the first steps of the weird dance, their
slippers had stuck in the mud, and they were given no opportunity to
stop and recover them.

I did not wait to hear more than the barest outline of the story, for I
learned that he had left them not more than ten minutes before my
arrival on the scene, and with the heavy roads, I thought there was at
least a chance of some lucky accident bringing me face to face with my
quarry.



CHAPTER XIX

A HOT SCENT


I RAN on through the night, but I could not make any great progress. I
was now involved in a maze of Essex bye-roads, totally unknown to me,
and every few minutes I was compelled to dismount, and search for the
tracks. I never lost them, however, until I came once more to a
high-road. The curve of the tyre marks at the junction of the road gave
me the direction I needed, and, letting my car go, in four or five
minutes I found myself running into the electric-lighted streets of a
town. The place was deserted, but eventually I found a policeman, and of
him I inquired whether anything had been seen or heard of the Pirate.
There was no need for me to describe the appearance of the pirate car.
It was as well-known throughout the land, as the Lord Mayor's coach, but
he had seen nothing of it, and was quite positive that it had not passed
through the town. An ordinary car had passed about half an hour before
my arrival, and though the constable's description of the car was not
very lucid, it was sufficiently near the mark to make me think of
Mannering.

"I fancy the man you describe is a friend of mine," I said. "Which
direction did he take?"

"He went straight along the Colchester road," was the astonishing reply.

"The Colchester road?" I inquired. "What town is this, then?"

"This is Chelmsford, sir," he answered, with a surprise equalling my
own.

I could see my unguarded question had awakened his suspicions of me, so
I made haste to remark that I had not realized how quickly I had
travelled, adding that I might have known there was no other town of the
size thereabouts.

"I am afraid," I added, "that if you had met me outside the borough you
would have had a case for the Bench in the morning."

"I don't take no heed of speed myself, sir, when the roads is clear," he
remarked; "but when the traffic's thick, it's another matter."

I thought his sound common sense deserved a reward. Anyway it got one,
and with a cheerful good night, I set my car going at a pace which made
me hope that any other constable I chanced to meet would prove as
intelligent as he from whom I had just parted. It is about twenty-two
miles from Chelmsford to Colchester, and, in spite of the greasy state
of parts of the road, I managed the distance in thirty minutes.

Every one of those minutes I expected to be able to overtake Mannering;
but I saw nothing of him, and by the time I came to Colchester, I began
to fancy that he must have given me the slip at some bye-road. From my
inquiries at Colchester, I learned, however, that I was still on the
right scent; but I was mightily puzzled to discover that though he was
driving the old car which he had always declared was unable to compass
more than twelve or fourteen miles an hour, he was still half an hour
ahead of me.

He was still going away from town, and I followed. There is no need for
me to give in any detail particulars of my journey that night. Day was
breaking when I came into Ipswich, and it was broad daylight when I
passed through the long, untidy street of Wickham Market. Mannering
still kept ahead, and I followed doggedly. I heard of him at Saxmundham,
but when I inquired at Blythburgh, I found I had missed him, and I had
to hark back to Yoxford before I got on his track again. He had taken
the side route to Halesworth, through which he had passed in the
direction of Beccles. By this time he was an hour ahead of me, and, as
he had left Beccles by the Yarmouth road, I went ahead as fast as I
dared. It was not quite my highest speed, for by this time I was both
tired and hungry, and the strain of travelling over unknown roads at a
high speed at night made my head swim. I knew that unless I could soon
get food and rest I should soon be fit for nothing. So immediately I
reached Yarmouth, I went to a hotel, ordered breakfast, indulged in a
hot bath while it was preparing, and went to sleep in my chair directly
I had eaten the meal.

The waiter awakened me about ten. I went down to the beach and indulged
in a swim, and, returning to the hotel, amazed the waiter by ordering
and doing justice to a second breakfast before taking my departure.

On leaving the hotel, my first consideration was to get my tank
refilled, and, that done, I sent off a couple of wires, one to Evie and
the other addressed to Forrest, at my own place, telling each of them to
communicate with me at Sutgrove Hall if anything happened, for it was my
intention to call at my home if I could possibly manage to do so.

My next business was to search for traces of Mannering in Yarmouth, but
it was some time before I ascertained that the man I imagined to be he,
had left by the coast road through Caister. It was a tedious job to
track him through the Norfolk lanes, for he had turned and doubled as if
anxious to throw a pursuer off the scent, and it was one o'clock before
I eventually struck the high-road between Norwich and Cromer. There I
finally lost him, owing chiefly to the fact that the day was fine, and a
large number of motor-cars were on the road in consequence.

By this time I was beginning to think my impulsive action to be more
than a little foolish, but in order that my journey should not be
altogether wasted, I determined to run on to Cromer, lunch there, and
afterwards proceed to Sheringham, near which delightful village my home
was situated, and seize the opportunity to make arrangements with my
aunt for Evie's visit.

In pursuance of this plan, in half an hour's time, I walked into the
dining-room of the Royal Hotel at Cromer. You may judge of my surprise
when I saw Mannering seated at a table at one of the windows. He
observed my entrance, and, rising, greeted me heartily.

"Hullo, Sutgrove!" he said. "This is indeed a welcome surprise. I had
not the slightest idea you were in this part of the country."

"If you had, I presume you would not have chosen it for the scene of
your exploits," I replied.

The expression of astonishment which spread over his features at my
rejoinder was so perfect that I felt all my suspicions begin to crumble
away.

"I don't follow you," he remarked.

His manner was either the result of one of the best pieces of acting I
had ever seen in my life, or due to absolute unconsciousness of my
meaning. It made me remember that though there were undoubtedly
suspicious circumstances connecting him with the Motor Pirate, yet so
far there was not one iota of direct evidence. I thought it best to
temporize.

"Oh," I remarked; "I was only referring to your attempts to cut the
records with your old car."

He smiled calmly before replying. "You may be nearer the truth than you
think. I've had a new motor fixed in the car--an idea of my own, and I
find she travels at quite a decent pace. That's why I left home last
night. After the rain I thought the roads would certainly be clear
enough to give me the opportunity of making a fair test. The engine is a
model of the one I have designed for the new car which I mentioned--last
night was it? No; the night before."

I was fairly staggered at his assurance. His demeanour was entirely
without the suggestion of his being in any way aware that he was an
object of suspicion.

"Were you not afraid of meeting the Pirate? I heard he was abroad last
night," I said.

"Afraid!" he remarked witheringly. "Afraid! All I am afraid of is, that
some of your Scotland Yard friends will be beforehand with me in his
capture, and that is an adventure which has a particular appeal to me,
since he left his mark upon me here." He tapped his shoulder
significantly. "I have promised myself to repay this injury with
interest."

"Well, I suppose we are as likely to meet him here as anywhere," I
ventured to remark.

"I hope so," he answered. "But I am not stopping here for long. I've
taken a bed for the night, because I feel confoundedly tired after last
night's run. But what brings you down here? Are you motoring?"

"In the first place I wanted a word with you," I replied.

"With me?" The amazement in his voice was obvious.

"Yes," I said; "that is my principal object."

"But how did you discover my address? I left no word with any one."

"I'll tell you later," I said.

"Well, we have plenty of time to talk," he replied. "If there's any
little difficulty in which I can be of any assistance, I need hardly
assure you I am at your service. But hadn't you better have lunch
first?" He lowered the tone of his voice. "Unless you wish the waiters
to become acquainted with your affairs, I should think what you have to
say could be much better said outside. Neither pier nor esplanade are
much frequented at this time of the year."

The suggestion was so natural and reasonable that, after a moment's
consideration, I decided to accept it.

All through the meal he chatted as easily as if there was not the
slightest possibility of anything happening to interrupt the friendship
which had always ostensibly existed between us. The longer we talked,
the more puzzled I became. His manners were so natural, so fearless,
that it was quite impossible for me to believe that I was sitting at
lunch with the Motor Pirate. He was very curious to know how I had
learned of his intention to come to Cromer, and I was induced to tell
him of my experiences on the previous night. I watched his face keenly
while I narrated the stories of the Pirate's victims. He listened quite
gravely, not even the ghost of a smile crossing his face when I told him
of the ludicrous pictures presented by the old lady and her two
servants.

"It is no laughing matter," he observed. "The rascal was bad enough when
he confined his attentions to men; but now he has taken to bestowing
them upon women, he deserves no mercy, and when I am able to get upon
his track, he will get none."

"Then you are really hoping to join in the hunt?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I'll let you into my secret. At my place at St.
Stephens, I had a car which only wanted one minor detail to make it
complete. I have known for months, that if I could supply that detail, I
should be in possession of a car which would outpace even the Pirate's.
For months I've racked my brains over it. A week ago an idea occurred to
me. I worked it out. I tried it for the first time last night. It has
proved to be a success. The day after to-morrow I shall join in the
pursuit of the Motor Pirate, so if your Scotland Yard friend does not
make haste, he will be too late."

"What power do you propose to use?" I asked. "Petrol?"

He laughed before replying. "A month ago I would have told nobody; but
to-day there is no need of secrecy; my drawings are all ready for
deposit at the Patent Office, so there is no chance of any one
forestalling me."

"Well, what is it?" I said.

"I don't want you to tell anybody else just yet," he said; and as I
nodded my acquiescence, he continued, "My new motor is on an entirely
novel principle. It is a turbine engine, worked by the expansion of
liquid hydrogen."

"What?" I gasped. The idea was so novel that I could not grasp it. He
lifted his hand, checking the questions which started to my lips.

"No. No questions, if you please: because, if you ask any, I shall not
answer them. Meanwhile, you have not yet told me how you learned of my
presence here?"

I related how, in the course of my inquiries at Chelmsford, I had
ascertained that a person so like himself had passed through the town,
that I had determined to attempt to overtake him, little thinking the
chase would prove so stern.

He chaffingly congratulated me on my tracking powers, and expressed
regret that I had not made my appearance earlier, so that we might have
arranged a race; and by the time we had finished lunch, I was as
completely convinced as I had ever been of anything in my life, that he
had no connection whatsoever with the Pirate. Still, I was none the less
determined to tackle him upon the subject of the influence which Evie
declared he exerted over her, so when the meal was over, we left the
hotel together and, seeing from the front that the pier was practically
deserted, I led the way to the far end, determined to have a complete
explanation.

He was silent during our walk. So was I, for I was deliberating how best
to introduce the subject. As it happened, he made the task easy for me,
as after finding a comfortable seat and lighting a cigarette, he turned
to me with--

"Now, old fellow, what is it you have on your mind? Out with it!"

I told him--told him fully and frankly everything that Evie had
mentioned to me concerning him, and I finished by warning him that I was
determined to exercise the right she had given me to protect her. He
listened to me attentively and, one might have thought, even
sympathetically. When I had concluded, he sat silent awhile; then,
looking me full in the eyes, he remarked--

"I suppose, Sutgrove, if I tell you that this story of the influence I
am supposed to exercise over Miss Maitland is absolute news to me, you
will not believe me?"

I was staggered, and my astonishment must have been visible in my face,
for he continued--

"You may be surprised, but not half so much as I have been, by what you
have told me. Really, the whole story sounds the maddest farrago of
nonsense I have ever heard."

I was about to make an angry retort, but he checked me with a gesture--

"I do not mean any offence," he said; "for I can quite understand what
your feelings on the subject must be. I, no more than yourself, would
tolerate any unwarrantable interference such as you describe. It is just
as well that you should have mentioned the matter to me, however, for
you will know so much better how to proceed."

"What do you mean?" I gasped.

"Why, what else than that you will not waste any time before obtaining
medical advice for Miss Maitland," he replied.

I felt a grey horror creeping over me--a horror that tied my tongue, to
think that Evie--my Evie--might prove to be--mad. Again, he must have
divined my thoughts, for he said reassuringly--

"You must not take too serious a view of the case. Miss Maitland is of a
highly nervous temperament, and, I should imagine, rather prone to
hysteria." Then, rising, he clapped me on the shoulder, "Take a cheerful
view, Sutgrove. I'll bet you ten to one that her doctor will inform you
that marriage will provide a complete cure."

His tone was so hearty, so friendly, that I instinctively grasped his
hand, and he returned my grip.

The subject was not resumed; and, as we walked back to the hotel, I was
completely convinced that I had been an unutterable cad ever to allow a
single doubt concerning him to enter my mind, much less to harbour
there.

I left him at the hotel door and went in search of my car to continue my
journey to Sutgrove Hall. He was still standing where I parted from him
when I swept past, and he waved his hand to me, a smile upon his face.



CHAPTER XX

RELATES HOW THE PIRATE HOLDS UP AN AUGUST PERSONAGE


I REACHED my destination about five, and found, as I hoped, a telegram
awaiting my arrival. It read--

          "Ever so much better. Do not worry about me.
          Cannot spare you for long though. Lots of
          love.--E."

With my mind very much relieved, I was able to devote my attention to my
aunt, who was full of questions as to the reason for my unexpected
arrival and equally eager for a full account of my doings during the
past six months, during which time, she assured me, I had grossly
neglected my duties, especially by my failure to keep her adequately
posted regarding my engagement.

I was anxious, after reading Evie's wire, to start forthwith for St.
Albans; my aunt was equally anxious that I should remain the night at
Sutgrove, and while we were arguing the point, a second telegram
arrived, which settled the matter. I tore open the envelope and read--

          "Meet the 8.49 at Cromer with motor. Do not fail.
          Most important.--FORREST."

The message had been handed in at Liverpool Street at 4.50, and I
wondered what could have happened to necessitate Forrest's presence in
Norfolk. There was little use speculating, however, and I settled down
to satiate, if it were possible, my aunt's curiosity.

She was duly impressed by such of my adventures as I thought fit to
relate, but she was not neglectful of what she considered her duties as
hostess and, in spite of the fact that I had eaten a hearty lunch about
two, I was able shortly after seven to do adequate justice to the early
dinner which she provided for me. I left home soon after eight, and, in
consequence of my impatience, had to wait ten minutes on the Cromer
platform for the arrival of the train.

As the engine drew into the station, I saw Forrest's head thrust out of
the window of one of the carriages, and, before the train had come to a
standstill, he had leaped from the door and was at my side. He was for
him unusually excited, and, without reply to my greeting, save with a
silent hand grip, he said--

"Seen anything of Mannering?"

"Why, yes," I replied directly. "I lunched with him, to-day. He's
stopping at the Royal."

"That's a bit of luck," replied the detective. "Come along;" and he
pushed on in advance of me through the barrier.

"What has happened?" I asked, as I caught him up in the station yard.

"I hold a warrant for his arrest, and I am desirous of executing it at
the earliest possible moment, that's all," he replied.

I could hardly believe my ears. "What in the world for?" I asked.

"What should it be for?" said Forrest, with a touch of sarcasm in the
tone of his voice.

"He cannot be the Motor Pirate. It is impossible. He could not have
deceived me so completely," I exclaimed.

"I would stake everything I hope for in the future, as well as
everything I possess at the present moment, that he is though," returned
the detective with conviction. "But we must not waste time. Take me to
the hotel."

Without stopping to argue the point, I jumped on my car, Forrest took
the seat beside me, and we proceeded to the Royal.

"Leave the car and come with me, I may want your assistance," he said,
as we pulled up at the entrance to the hotel.

He sprang out the moment I stopped and ran briskly up the steps. A
porter was in the hall, and to him Forrest turned.

"I want to see a Mr. Mannering, who is stopping here, at once, and I do
not wish to be announced," he said.

The man walked across to the office and made an inquiry of the clerk,
then returning, announced that Mannering had left an hour previously.

"Left?" said Forrest, and his jaw fell. He stepped across to the office
himself, only to learn that though Mannering had booked a room for the
night, he had after dinner called for his bill, paid it, and left on his
motor, without giving any reason for his alteration of plans.

Forrest stalked out of the hotel, his brow heavy with thought. I
followed him. He stepped on to the car, and, taking my seat, I asked him
tersely--

"Where to?"

"St. Albans," he replied with brevity equal to my own, and without
further question we were off.

"Don't mind taking a few risks," he said presently. "The sooner we can
get there the better I shall be pleased."

Then, leaning back in his seat, he asked me to tell him how I happened
to learn of Mannering's presence in Cromer, and what he had said to
convince me that he was in no way connected with the Pirate. So while we
were still running at a moderate pace, I gave him a brief history of my
adventures of the previous night. Before I had concluded, however, the
road ahead seemed clear, and, pulling my mask over my face, I jammed on
my highest speed and conversation became impossible.

Forrest pulled his cap down over his eyes and, turning his coat-collar
about his ears, settled himself apparently to slumber. Within half an
hour the lights of Norwich sparkled in front of us, and it became
necessary to slacken speed. Forrest immediately resumed the conversation
at the point where we had broken off, and questioned me closely with
regard to what Mannering had said to me. Once and again I endeavoured
to ascertain what had induced him to take out the warrant; but he would
not satisfy my curiosity, declaring that it was of more importance that
he should know all that I could tell him first. There seemed little
likelihood of my learning anything, for we soon left Norwich behind us,
and were running at full speed on the road to Thetford and Newmarket,
slackening speed only slightly as we swept through the villages and
trusting to the continuous toot-toot of the horn to clear our path. Our
progress was uninterrupted until we had reached and left the little town
of Attleborough five or six miles behind us, when Forrest was afforded
an opportunity, much to his chagrin, of giving me the reasons for his
haste.

Incidentally, I may remark, that the occurrence which afforded this
opportunity came very near depriving me of the chance of hearing
anything from anybody, or him from ever opening his lips again, for
while we swept along at our top speed there was a sudden hissing sound,
a sudden succession of jars, and the car swerved violently, nearly
overturning. I jammed on both my breaks, and by good fortune the car did
not overturn. I guessed what had happened, and there was no need for me
to get a light to make sure--my sense of touch informed me that the off
back tyre was as flat as a pancake.

I hoped that the injury was only slight, but my hopes faded the moment I
examined the injury. The tyre had picked up a curved and pointed piece
of iron, and had been irreparably damaged. No patching was of any use.
There was nothing for it but to replace the tyre with a new one.
Fortunately, I was prepared with a spare outer cover as well as inner
tubes, and, with a muttered curse, I threw off my coat and set about the
job. Then when that was done, and it took me a good hour to complete the
task, I discovered, on restarting the car, that a further misfortune had
befallen us. Either owing to the jumping of the car when the tyre went,
or more likely because of the sudden application, the footbreak had
seized, and the transmission was so far injured that I could not get the
car along above seven or eight miles an hour. I did my best to put the
damage right. I lay on my back in the middle of the road, and used all
the language approved by the most fluent members of the Automobile Club
for use on such occasions, but entirely without result. Exactly where we
were I did not know, and, after I had relieved my feelings, I thought it
best to jog along until we came to some town where it would be possible
to get skilled assistance.

And it was while we were progressing in this humdrum fashion that
Forrest confided to me the reasons for his anxiety.

"In the first place," he said, "your theory as to the stud found by
Mannering's servants proved to be correct. It was Winter's. I arrived at
St. Albans the first thing this morning, and, after getting your note,
went straight away and interviewed the girls. They handed me the
trinket. I took it to Winter, and he identified it. He will swear to it
anywhere. By the time I had done this, your wire for me had arrived,
and your man, having seen me go into Winter's house, brought it on. I
took the next train to town and went straight to the Yard, thankful that
at last I was able to report something definite. Besides, I wanted to
take a warrant without any one being aware of it, and I knew I could
manage that better in London than in the country. Well, I called at the
Yard, ran across to Bow Street and got my warrant, and returned to the
Yard in order to instruct a couple of our men who had been placed at my
disposal. While I was there particulars came to hand of a feat which
throws all the other doings of the Pirate into the shade. You mentioned,
I think, that Mannering, when he told Miss Maitland that he was going
away, said that all England would be talking of him."

"She said so," I replied doubtfully; "but she was so excited----"

"She was probably correct in her recollection of what passed," he said.
"If further proof were wanted to connect your friend with the Motor
Pirate, those words would be sufficient. If what I know leaks out, the
Pirate will fill the popular mind more to-morrow than he has done in the
past even. Yesterday morning, within six miles of Sandringham, he held
up"--he hesitated--"I must mention no names--he held up, let me say, an
August Personage----"

"The King?" I cried.

"An August Personage," remarked Forrest, severely, "in broad daylight."

"Let me hear all about it?" I asked eagerly.

"I don't know that I can tell you everything, for so far I only know the
particulars wired to the Yard. But the story is complete enough to
enable me to do what I have hitherto failed in, and that is, complete
the necessary identification of our friend Mannering. And curiously
enough, it is owing to the keen powers of observation possessed by
the----"

"The August Personage," I reminded him, a trifle maliciously as he
hesitated.

Forrest laughed. "Quite right, you score that time," he remarked, before
resuming his tale. "Owing to the August Personage's keen powers of
observation, I am able to lay my finger on the one point which has
puzzled me, namely, the manner by which Mannering has managed to escape
suspicion. It is a simple trick. So simple, in fact, that I cannot
conceive how I managed to overlook such a possibility for so long.
However, you shall hear the facts as they were told to me, and judge for
yourself with what transparent means we have been hoodwinked by the
rascal. The August Personage, who, as you are probably aware, has been
staying at Sandringham for some days past, has been in the habit of
taking a ride on one of his cars whenever the roads were in good
condition, accompanied only by his chauffeur. This morning he started
for the customary run shortly after eleven, with the intention of taking
a circular trip through Hunstanton, Burnham, Docking and Bircham, and
returning for luncheon. The intention was not fulfilled since, before
reaching Hunstanton, the Pirate made his appearance, and approaching as
usual from behind, overtook the August motor. The August driver did not
at first take any notice of the approaching car, but, merely imagining
that the driver had recognized him, and felt some delicacy at passing,
he signalled with his hand for the stranger to go ahead. What was his
surprise to hear the stranger in a loud voice bid him stop his car. He
turned to look at the audacious person who had dared take such
unwarrantable liberty, and at once observed with whom he had to deal.
The Pirate had in his hand a revolver, which was levelled at the August
head. The August face flushed with anger, and turning away, he
contemptuously took no notice of the summons. The Pirate thereupon fired
two shots, aimed, fortunately, neither at the August Personage nor at
the chauffeur, but at the tyres of the back wheels. The aim was good,
the tyres ran down at once, and the August Personage found progress on
the rims to be so uncomfortable that he thought it desirable to stop.
The stranger ranged alongside, and the chauffeur, rising from his seat,
was about to throw himself at the throat of the assailant, when his
August master laid a hand upon his arm.

"'No, no,' he said, 'I can easily get another car, but I do not know
that I could replace my chauffeur.'

"Thereupon the Pirate observed, 'I think, sir, there is so much wisdom
in your remark that, in spite of my necessities, I almost feel inclined
to forego my usual toll in your case.

"The August Personage, whose coolness had never for a moment deserted
him, replied imperturbably--

"'Having robbed me of a morning's enjoyment, it seems to me there is
nothing of any particular value left for you to take.'

"'Then, sir,' replied the rascal, 'you will be doubtless glad to
purchase my immediate disappearance with the contents of the August
pockets?'

"August was not the word he used, but it was one which showed that he
was acquainted with the personality of his victim.

"The August Personage shrugged his shoulders, and, searching his
pockets, could produce nothing but a cigarette case and a button. To
show his _sang-froid_, I need only remark that when he produced the
latter article he laughed heartily and said to the chauffeur--

"'I hope, P----, you have something to add to the contents of my
pockets, or I fear this too eager gentleman will destroy our front tyres
as well as the back.'

"The chauffeur had some loose gold, a silver matchbox, and a watch, and
when these were produced, speaking with the same nonchalance he had
retained throughout, the August Personage remarked--

"'I fear you have drawn a blank this time, Mr. Pirate; for, upon my
word, that is the best I can do for you.'

"The Pirate took the articles. Then he raised his hat. 'I take,' he
said, 'the August word as readily as I take these souvenirs of this
memorable meeting,' and with these words, he pulled a lever and was
speedily out of sight."

"By Jove!" I muttered. "The fellow's audacity is almost past belief. But
you said something of observations made by the August victim?"

"Yes," said Forrest. "The chauffeur was much too agitated to notice
anything, but his master was not. He observed four things. First, that
the Pirate was a man of about six feet in height."

"Mannering is five feet eleven and a quarter in his socks," I remarked.

"Secondly, that his hair was black. Thirdly, that the nails of the right
hand, with which he took his plunder, were bitten to the quick."

"The identification becomes nearly perfect," I interrupted.

"Fourthly, that the car was originally a two-seated car, with a tonneau
body, but that the seat had been set back, and the bonnet was enclosed
by metal plates shaped into the form of the bow of a canoe, and bolted
together in a manner which gave the impression that they might easily be
removed. Why," continued the detective, "I did not think of so obvious a
solution of the Pirate's mysterious disappearances before I cannot
imagine. It is the trick the black flag merchants have practised since
the days of Captain Kidd."

I was silent. I could only wonder at my own blindness. Then an excuse
occurred to me.

"After all," I remarked, "we only met him in the dark."



CHAPTER XXI

WE PLAN AN AMBUSH


FORREST had just concluded his story when the lights of Thetford gleamed
in our eyes. The time was 12.30. The last train was gone. The
inhabitants were all in bed, and there we were, stranded with a broken
car, and no means of putting it right. Forrest would not despair,
however, and after some difficulty we managed, with the assistance of
the local police, to knock up a man who was locally reputed to know all
about motors. He was a little surly at first, but the inducement I
offered him to make an attempt to put the transmission right, was
sufficient to dissipate his very natural disgust at being disturbed in
his beauty sleep. Fortunately his local reputation had reasonable
foundation. He was a very capable mechanician, and the way he set about
the job gave me great hopes that the car would run as well as ever when
he had done with it. And my expectations were gratified. In less than an
hour he had completed the repairs. I paid him and asked him to remain up
for ten minutes in case we had another breakdown, telling him that after
that period had elapsed, he would be at liberty to return to his bed.
Whether he waited the ten minutes or not I do not know, for by that time
we were halfway to Newmarket, flying through the darkness at a pace
which two months previously I would not have dared venture upon in broad
daylight. And right onward to St. Albans, we kept it up, reaching the
ancient town just as the birds began to twitter in the hedges at the
first grey light of early dawn. At St. Albans we stopped at the
police-station. A man was waiting at the door.

"Any news?" asked Forrest.

The man shook his head.

"You know where to bring it?" asked my companion.

The man nodded.

"Let us get on home," said Forrest to me.

As I wheeled my vehicle into my yard I thought I should drop. The strain
of that rush through the night, expecting every moment that something
would give way, had been tremendous, and the moment the tension was
relaxed I shook like an aspen leaf. When I tried to get in at my own
door I found I could not fit the latch-key, and was obliged to hand it
to the detective. He saw what was the matter with me, and the moment we
were inside, he led the way to my study, thrust me down into a chair and
mixed me a whisky-and-soda. I was never more grateful for a drink in my
life. It pulled me together, and in less time than I had conceived
possible, I felt as if I could have managed another seventy-five miles
without a halt.

The moment he saw my nerves were steady again, Forrest proposed that we
should get something to eat. I declared that I did not want anything.

"When you haven't time for sleep, the next best thing is to feed well if
you want to keep fit," he remarked. "Besides, I am as hungry as a hunter
has a right to be."

"That settles it," I laughed. "We shall have to forage for ourselves.
The servants are all asleep."

We found our way to the larder and made a hearty meal on a cold pie we
found there; and directly we had finished, we set out forthwith in the
direction of Mannering's home. As soon as we arrived opposite the house,
Forrest paused and gave a low whistle. It was answered immediately by a
man dressed as a labourer, who made his appearance from behind the hedge
opposite the house.

"Any one been here to-night, Laver?" asked Forrest.

"No one," the man answered. "The servants turned in about ten after
locking up. No signs of any one about the place since."

"That's all right," grunted Forrest. "We shall be ready for him when he
does come. Have you got the tools?"

The man was proceeding to scramble through the hedge when Forrest
checked him.

"Better stay where you are," he advised. "Keep out of sight, and if I
whistle, come at once."

"All right, sir," replied the man, as he handed through a gap in the
hedge a small chamois leather bag.

I had no idea as to what steps Forrest proposed to adopt in order to
effect the arrest, so I asked him, and he explained briefly his plan of
campaign.

"One can see," he remarked, "that Mannering feels so confident of the
completeness of his disguise that he will have no hesitation about
returning. I am reckoning, too, upon there being an element of truth in
the story he has told you about the construction of his motor, in which
case his own workshop would be the only place where he would be able to
refill his tank. We shall be able to decide that point in a very few
minutes. If we do find any plant for the production of liquid gases, we
can count upon catching our man within a very few hours."

"Unless he smells a rat, and makes for some convenient port and gets out
of the country," I remarked.

"That eventuality is provided against," remarked the detective. "His
description is in the hands of the police at every port in the kingdom,
and even if he changes the colour of his hair, I don't think he will
manage to get away. What I propose is, that we shall remain concealed in
his coach-house and await his return."

"How are we going to get in?" I inquired.

Forrest took a bunch of skeleton keys from the bag Laver had handed to
him and dangled them before his eyes.

"There's not a burglar in the kingdom is better provided," he remarked,
and set to work upon the lock forthwith.

The lock was an ordinary one, and his efforts were speedily successful.
The door swung open, and we entered eagerly a bare, stone-paved
coach-house. Opposite the door by which we had entered from the road was
a similar door, which gave upon the inner yard. On the left, a large
sliding door had been fixed in place of the wall which had divided the
coach-house from the stables. Relocking the door by which we had
entered, Forrest led the way to the door on the left. It was unfastened,
and as it swung back a cry of amazement sprang to my lips.

"Hush--sh--sh!" said the detective warningly.

But I could not have repressed the cry, for there before me stood a
replica of the car I had seen on two occasions. There was only one point
of difference at first apparent. The pirate car had been black. This one
was built of aluminium and gleamed silvery white. But although the lines
were very similar, I soon came to the conclusion that the car we saw
before us was not the one which the Pirate had used when engaged upon
his nefarious work. One glance at the tyres convinced me that they had
never been upon the road, and I fancied that the wheels were smaller and
the lines of the body finer altogether. I pointed these things out to
Forrest, who, while agreeing that this particular car could not have
been the one which had been responsible for holding up the "August
Personage" on the previous day, would not commit himself further.

We did not spend much time upon a close examination of the car, for the
other contents of the building claimed our attention. We found ourselves
in a long workshop. There were no windows in the walls, but the place
was amply illuminated by a skylight which ran along nearly the whole
length of the northern slope of the roof. On the right of the large door
by which we had entered the inner shop was a small room, which had
probably once served as a harness-room, for through this another door
gave on to the yard, though this exit was evidently never used, for the
door was fixed by screws. The contents were a couple of broken chairs,
and some coats and rugs hung upon hooks upon the walls, together with a
miscellaneous assortment of odds and ends upon a shelf. I gave merely a
cursory glance at the contents of this apartment, for my attention had
been attracted by a plant of machinery, which occupied the far end of
the large room. As it happened, I had once had an opportunity of
inspecting the laboratory of the Royal Institution, and I recognized at
once that Mannering had set up an installation for the preparation of
some one or other of the liquid gases. Without this experience, I doubt
whether it would have been possible for me to guess even the purpose for
which the plant had been devised. As it was, I had no hesitation in
discovering the receiver into which the liquid gas was distilled; and
when I let a little of the liquid with which it was filled run into a
glass which I found handy, and saw the air fall in a shower of tiny
snow-flakes as the stuff evaporated, I knew that Mannering had told me
the exact truth when he had informed me that liquid hydrogen supplied
the power for his new car.

Once satisfied on this point, I examined the other contents of the
place. I do not think there is any need to particularize all that we
discovered, even if my memory served me. Practically the workshop
contained a sufficient engineering equipment to build such a car as
stood in the centre, though I judged that there was no convenience for
the forging of the parts of the motor.

Still, as I pointed out to Forrest, there was nothing in all these
discoveries to negative the truth of the story Mannering had told me
about his being engaged in building a car which should serve to outpace
the Pirate car, but he would not listen to any theorising on the
subject.

"He can tell that story to the jury," he said, as he significantly drew
a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and clinked them together. Then he
proceeded to investigate the contents of the harness-room, while I went
back to the new car and began a careful examination of the engines. The
whole mechanism was, however, so novel to me, that I could only surmise
as to the method of its working. I did notice, however, that the driving
and steering gear varied very little from that of my own car, so far as
it was controlled by the levers and wheel, while the breaks seemed to be
particularly powerful. There was only seating accommodation for two, and
judging from the size of the tank which was fitted behind the seat, I
judged that Mannering contemplated runs over distances which would make
large demands upon his supply of liquid gas.

At the moment I made this discovery, I heard Forrest call to me in an
excited whisper, and going across to him, I found him contemplating with
keen interest a dirty piece of rope.

"Look here, Sutgrove," he said; "this is the piece of cord with which he
trussed me up on the occasion when he dropped me into the pond. Compare
it with this"--he kicked a coil which lay at his feet--"and tell me if
they are not identical."

I examined them both, and came to the conclusion that Forrest was
correct in his supposition. Next, mounting one of the chairs, he
proceeded to rummage amongst the rubbish piled on the shelf. A moment
later he observed triumphantly, albeit in subdued tones, "Another piece
of evidence," and descending from his perch, he handed me a box of
cartridges. A glance at the label had apparently been enough,
nevertheless, to make sure, he searched again in his pocket, and
produced the bullet which had proved fatal to the poor victim at
Towcester. He compared it with one of the cartridges, and gave a grunt
of content. "I fancy we shall soon obtain sufficient evidence to hang
him," he murmured. Then a shadow crossed his face. "What an infernal
dunderhead I have been not to suspect him before," he said, and turning
impatiently away, he replaced the box of cartridges on the shelf, before
renewing his systematic examination of the rest of the contents of the
room. The search revealed nothing further, and at length he desisted.

All the while we were keenly on the alert to detect any sound which
should tell us of the approach of Mannering's car. But the minutes
passed and grew into hours without a sign. It must have been about five
in the morning when we had entered the coach-house, and when I saw by my
watch that it was nearly ten, I began to think that in some way or
another Mannering had got warning of the danger that threatened him. I
suggested to Forrest that we might as well leave our hiding-place, but
he would not hear of it.

"I don't leave this building except in his company, unless I hear that
he has been captured elsewhere," he declared obstinately. "At the same
time, don't let me detain you."

I wanted badly to see Evie, whom I thought might be getting anxious
concerning me; but I hardly liked the idea of leaving Forrest to tackle
Mannering alone if he should return. However, my first desire triumphed,
so I persuaded Forrest to let me out of the door, promising to return
within as short a time as I could manage.

I hurried first to the Colonel's house, and had a brief interview with
the dear girl, telling her what had happened and what was likely to
happen in the near future. Next, I went to my own place, and had a
basket packed with a plentiful luncheon, not forgetting to provide a
couple of bottles of champagne, and thus provided I returned to the
coach-house after an absence of less than an hour.

When in response to my signal Forrest admitted me, his eyes twinkled
with satisfaction as he saw my burden.

"It is truly thoughtful of you," he remarked, as I lifted the lid of
the basket and revealed the contents. "I only hope our friend will not
spoil our picnic by arriving in the middle of it."

The better to avoid any such _contretemps_, we set about our meal
immediately with very good appetites. When we had finished, I do not
know how Forrest felt, but I was confoundedly drowsy. I tried all sorts
of tricks to keep my eyes open, but the quiet of the place, the
coolness, and the subdued light of the saddle-room, where Forrest
thought it best for us to remain, were too much for my powers of
resistance and I dropped off to sleep.

I must have slumbered for a couple of hours, if not three, when I was
suddenly awakened by a hand placed on my mouth, while a voice whispered
in my ear--

"Wake up, man--wake up! There's no time to lose."

I came to myself with a start. Forrest had hold of me, and was shaking
me violently. At the same moment I became aware of the throb of an
approaching motor.

Recognizing the sound, I turned to the detective.

"That's Mannering," I whispered.

"Yes," replied my companion. "I could swear to the sound anywhere."



CHAPTER XXII

GONE AWAY


"DON'T stir an inch until I give the signal," whispered Forrest in my
ear, as soon as he saw I was fully awake. He was perfectly calm, and he
closed the door in order to conceal us from the sight of any one
entering the workshop.

The car pulled up outside. We heard the grate of the key in the lock,
and the door creak on its hinges, as it swung open. There was a second
grating noise, and I judged that the door of the inner yard had been
opened by whoever had entered. There followed a few more pants from the
motor, as it passed through the coach-house into the yard, and then
everything was silent. The outer door shutting with a snap apprized us
that the crucial moment was at hand, and my heart began to thump as I
heard footsteps approaching. Forrest pointed to a vacant hook over my
head, and I recognized why he had selected the harness-room for our
hiding-place. The footsteps came slowly nearer, then stopped, and a long
low laugh came from the lips of the unseen man. I thought we must have
been discovered in our hiding-place and glanced at Forrest for
instructions. He never moved a muscle. He stood poised like a greyhound
about to be slipped from the leash.

The footsteps approached again. The door knob rattled as a hand was laid
upon it. The door flew open. Forrest darted forward.

I caught one glimpse of Mannering's face, for it was indeed he, and I
saw it become suddenly livid. It was not the pallor of fear. His eyes
flashed. He had doffed his coat and was holding it in one hand, and
quick as was Forrest's spring, he was equally swift to meet it. His
other hand passed swift as lightning from the door handle, and catching
the edge of the coat, spread the garment in front of him. Forrest,
missing his grip, plunged heavily into the wide folds of the garment.
Mannering's arms closed as a vice. The door swinging back had
momentarily blocked my passage. I thrust it open, and had taken one step
forward to Forrest's assistance, when Mannering with a herculean effort,
swung the detective from his feet, and hurled him full at me. It was a
magnificent effort, and I went down with a crash amongst the remains of
the lunch with Forrest on the top of me. The whole incident had not
lasted twenty seconds, and before either of us could regain our feet,
the door was slammed and locked.

Forrest was the first to regain his feet, and he rushed at the door
furiously. We were trapped. The door was a strong one of oak, and I
remembered that it fastened by a couple of bolts on the other side. The
detective worried the door like a bear at the bars of his cage, but he
could not move it. He gnashed his teeth, and he was white with rage.
From the other side we could hear the sound of heavy objects being
moved, and we guessed that our enemy was piling the most massive
articles his workshop contained against the door to make it more secure.

"D----n you, Sutgrove!" shouted the detective. "Don't stop to think, or
we shall lose our man after all. Come, both together."

I saw his intention, and I could understand and forgive his curse in the
excitement of the moment. Together we hurled ourselves against the door.
It did not move an inch, and a long low chuckle greeted the attempt from
the other side. We tried madly again and again, but the barrier was
immovable.

Then I looked round for some tool which would enable me to break down
the door itself. There were only the chairs available, and so I tore off
the leg of one of them, and, bidding Forrest stand back, I swung the
piece of wood round my head, and struck as hard as I could against one
of the lower panels of the door. The improvised club flew into half a
dozen fragments, but the panel had cracked. Forrest had provided himself
meanwhile with a similar club, and directed his blows so effectively
that the panel was driven out. I threw myself at the gap, trusting to be
able to force my way through.

What I saw filled me with rage. The wheels of the new car were moving,
and right before my eyes the car disappeared into the outer
coach-house. I made an unavailing attempt to struggle through the
aperture, but the attempt was hopeless. It was too narrow to admit even
my shoulders. Withdrawing, I told Forrest what I had seen.

"I had entirely forgotten Laver," he remarked, and putting his whistle
to his mouth, he blew it shrill and clear.

Then together we renewed our attack upon the door. The sound of a shout
from the outside followed by a pistol shot made us work like madmen, and
within a minute, another panel gave, and we managed to get at the bolts
and draw them. The articles piled against the door toppled in all
directions, as we finally forced our way out.

We were too late. The outer door was wide open, and just on the
threshold, was Forrest's unfortunate subordinate lying on the ground,
with blood trickling down his arm. He struggled into a sitting position
as we came out, and pointed up the road in the direction of St. Albans.

"Gone away, sir," he said.

"Hurt?" asked Forrest, pausing as he did so.

"Not much; smashed shoulder, I fancy," remarked the sufferer
philosophically.

"I'll send assistance," said my companion as he rushed after me into the
road, where I stood horror stricken at what met my gaze.

Fifty yards distant, opposite the entrance gate of Colonel Maitland's
house, the new car was standing still. It was empty. The gate was open,
and even as I watched, I saw Mannering come out of the gate, bearing in
his arms the helpless figure of a girl. There was no need to guess who
the victim might be. Even before I saw him appear, I knew intuitively
why he had stopped. Had he not told Evie that on the third day he would
return, bidding her be ready for him?

I rushed forward towards the car, but before I had covered half the
distance which separated me from it, he was aboard with his burden and I
knew pursuit on foot to be hopeless.

Yet, even as I saw him move away, there flashed across my brain one
means by which I might possibly get on terms with my enemy. There was
just one chance, and one chance only, of rescuing my darling from the
Pirate, and that chance depended entirely upon the question as to
whether the car upon which Mannering had returned was fitted with the
same sort of motor as that on which he had departed.

With the haste of a madman I returned to the coach-house I had just
quitted. My hopes fell to zero. There was an unmistakable scent of
petrol about the car. They rose again, however, upon a closer
examination, for I saw at once that the motor was a turbine, though
petrol was utilized in some way as a means of securing the necessary
heat to secure the expansion of the gas for the starting of the engine,
though I could see that once started, the expanded hydrogen was, as in
the new car, ingeniously utilized to produce the necessary heat. I was
glad then that I had spent as much time as I had upon examining the car
upon which the Pirate had escaped, for I was enabled to see that, if
only a supply of the liquid hydrogen were obtainable, I should be able
to put my wild plan into execution. As it was, the tank was nearly
empty, so putting my shoulder to the car, I shoved it into the workshop
where, unless Mannering had let it run to waste, I knew I should find a
supply of the hydrogen. Thank Heaven, Mannering had forgot to empty the
receiver, and filling the tank and tightly screwing down the nuts of the
covering, I wheeled the car into the open road. There I saw Forrest
leaning against the wall of the coach-house, a figure of inexpressible
dejection.

"Come and lend a hand!" I shouted.

The light that flashed into his face, as he realized what I would be at,
was extraordinary. He sprang forward at once to my assistance. Now, in
my attempts to get at the machinery of the car, I had discovered the
plates with which Mannering had been wont to disguise its shape, and it
occurred to me that they performed the further purpose of diminishing
the wind resistance, so that if I wanted to get the full speed out of
the car it would be necessary to fix them in their places. I immediately
set to work to join up the various sections, leaving Forrest to bolt
them together. We worked like niggers at the job, and it was nearly
completed when a curious sound came down the breeze. I looked up, and to
my surprise I saw the Pirate once more approaching.

"Look!" I shouted to Forrest in my excitement, though there was no need
to warn him.

Nearer the Pirate came; still nearer. Every moment I expected to see him
pull up and surrender. But it was a mad hope. He had not the slightest
intention of so obliging us. As he approached, he suddenly increased his
pace and flashed past us at full sixty miles an hour.

Forrest fingered a revolver, but he dared not shoot for fear the bullet
should find the slender form of Evie, who we saw was huddled close to
his side. Mannering laughed as he passed us and waved his hand in
derision.

"There are a couple of masks in the coach-house," I said quietly to the
detective.

He darted into the doorway and returned a moment later with them,
thrusting at the same time a bottle into his pocket. It took us no time
to climb into the car and as, during his momentary absence, I had
succeeded in starting the engine, we were in a position to move at once.

For a hundred yards we travelled at the speed at which we were
accustomed to see Mannering while using the car in the sight of men and
in the light of day. Then with a word of warning to my companion, I
pulled at the change-speed lever. The effect was marvellous. The car
seemed to leap forward and the hedges suddenly transformed themselves
into long green streaks.

A cloud of dust on the road ahead gave the direction Mannering had
taken, so I jammed down the lever to its limit and commenced the
pursuit. At any other time the idea of chasing the Pirate on one of his
own cars would have delighted me beyond measure, but my thoughts were
too much occupied as to the fate which might await Evie if we failed to
overtake her abductor to allow room for anything else.

Exactly what speed we made I cannot tell, it must have been nearer
eighty than sixty miles an hour, but the smoothness of the motion was
wonderful, and I felt not the slightest tremor.

Mannering had disappeared on the Watford road, and in a few minutes we
swept through the north end of the town and, directed by a boy at the
cross roads, made for Rickmansworth. Forrest took charge of the horn,
and kept it braying continuously. We slackened speed through
Rickmansworth, for the streets were full of vehicles, and there we
learned that the white car was five minutes ahead. Once clear of the
streets I let the car go again, and we tore away towards Uxbridge. On
reaching the main Oxford road once more a dust cloud in the distance
served as a guide, and informed us that Mannering had crossed the
highway, and gone away in the direction of Slough. The going was rough
for a while, but I did not slacken pace, though the road was narrow, and
to have met a cart would have meant certain destruction. The road
broadened after a time, and I fancied we were gaining, for the dust
cloud seemed nearer. We skirted Slough to the east, the guiding cloud
bearing towards Dachet. Darting through that little riverside town at a
pace which set the police whistles blowing behind us, we came to the
bridge across the Thames, and here we were informed that our quarry was
barely a minute ahead, and running in the direction of Egham. A mile
further on, at a straight piece of road, we first sighted the fugitives,
and a cry of triumph escaped my lips. It was a little premature,
however. Once again the silver car turned into a bye-road so winding
that I was compelled, much against my will, to slacken speed. Then once
more we came out upon a main road, to find our quarry not more than a
hundred yards away as we swept out into the broad highway.

And here, looking back, Mannering for the first time learned that we
were on his track. At that moment, too, commenced a race which, I
venture to think, will not soon be equalled in the history of the motor
world. At all events, I trust it will never be my lot to take part in
any similar trial of speed, at least, with such issues depending upon
the result. Upon emerging from the bye-road we were a mile from Egham,
and knowing the road, I asked Forrest to glance at his watch. The way
was clear before us, and three minutes and a quarter later, we flashed
through the railway arch at Sunningdale railway-station, four miles from
the point where the timing commenced. But fast as we had travelled,
Mannering travelled faster. When we reached Bagshot we learned he was
half a minute ahead.

We flew through the lovely pine country on the wings of the wind,
through Hook, and so into Basingstoke. By this time we were covered from
head to foot with white dust, looking more like working masons than
anything else; but wherever we went, I knew Forrest had the power to
make the way easy. If he had been anybody else but a detective from
Scotland Yard, we should never have got through Basingstoke, for there
the police, warned in some manner of our approach, had drawn a huge
waggon across the road, thus completely barring our progress. It was
soon drawn aside when Forrest produced his badge, and once more we flew
westwards. So through Whitchurch and Andover.

How we succeeded in escaping accidents I cannot explain. Providence
seemed to watch over both pursuers and pursued. We were always on the
verge of a collision with somebody or something. Cottages, carts,
pedestrians, cyclists, seemed to be flying by in a never-ending
procession. Yet we touched nothing.

Once past Andover the road became clearer, for instead of turning
towards Salisbury, as I expected, the Pirate chose the road through
Amesbury and Stonehenge. We swept over Salisbury Plain at a magnificent
pace, but we did not catch sight of the fugitives, though now and again
a glimpse of a distant dust cloud raised my hopes momentarily. At
Wincanton we learned we were three minutes behind, and setting my teeth,
I determined I would not slacken speed again until we overtook the
fugitives or reached Exeter. The road was admirable hereabouts, and we
ran so steadily that, but for the hedges flying past, we might have been
sitting in armchairs. After Ilminster the road became steeper, though
it was yet too early in the year to be very rough.

But how is it possible to describe a journey at the pace we were making?
Our progress became dream-like to me. It was almost monotonous. One
could observe so little, just an incident here and there to mark the
stages in the journey. Thus I remember Honiton by the frightened scream
of a cur which was swept off its feet by the rush of the air as we
passed close at his tail. Then nothing of note until we reached Exeter.

At the cathedral city we were told the white car was only a minute in
advance. I began to wonder where the chase was going to end, for
Mannering was still going westward without pause. Still we followed. Out
on to the Launceston road; onward, ever onward until the bare hills of
Dartmoor frowned upon us, and we had to slacken slightly for the long
upward grind. Fortunately the hills were free from mist, and on reaching
the summit of Whiddon Down we caught once more a glimpse of the white
car before it disappeared in the distance. I was getting reckless, and I
took the descent at a pace which blanched even Forrest's cheek. Then
through a streak of white houses, which I fancied must be Okehampton.
There was no need to inquire the way. At the pace both cars were
travelling there was only one road which would serve either Mannering or
myself. In fifteen minutes Launceston came into view. Then up again
until from the top of Bodmin moor we caught fleeting glimpses of the sea
on either side of us. On still without pause, through Redruth and
Camborne and Hayle. Finally a sight of them at last, as we opened up St.
Michael's Bay as we came to Marazion. And here I thought the chase had
come to an end. I was mistaken.



CHAPTER XXIII

SAVED


MY brain reeled as we rushed along the road into Penzance. My forehead
seemed to be encircled with a band of steel. My mouth was so parched
that my tongue rattled against my palate as I tried to speak to Forrest.
My fingers were so cramped with the grip on the steering wheel, a grip
which had never once been relaxed during our five hours' run, that I
could not relinquish my hold. The road became dark, and involuntarily I
cut off the supply of the gas to the motor and brought the car to a
standstill.

"Go on, man! Go on!" shouted Forrest in my ear.

I could only gasp for answer. I felt suddenly sick.

Then Forrest gave proof of his ready common sense. He thrust his hand
into his pocket and produced the bottle of champagne which had been left
over from our lunch, and which he had thoughtfully brought with him in
view of some such eventuality as this. Tearing off the wire he cut the
string. The cork flew out and the liquor creamed from the neck of the
bottle. Pushing up my mask with one hand he held the bottle to my lips
with the other.

I spluttered. I choked. But I drank and I drank again. Never surely was
champagne more grateful or more useful. My strength returned to me
instantaneously. My brain cleared. My eyes saw. My hope returned. I drew
a deep sigh of relief. Forrest handed me the bottle again.

"After you," I said.

He took a drink and then remarked authoritatively, "Finish the bottle."

I obeyed and, draining it, tossed it into the hedge and once more set
the car in motion. If our progress had been speedy before, when we were
once through Penzance, it became absolutely reckless.

My brain was dancing from the effect of the champagne, and a wild
exhilaration throbbed in every artery. The pace was tremendous, and we
had not left Penzance a couple of miles behind us before the fugitives
came once more into view. Now for the first time I could see that we
were holding our own in the race. It may have been that some bearing had
become heated in the car Mannering was driving, for undoubtedly his new
car was more speedy than the old, but it was clear that he could no
longer leave us as he had been able to do in the earlier part of the
chase. If only I could increase ever so slightly the speed of my car, I
felt confident of overtaking him. I motioned to Forrest to bend towards
me, and when his ear was level with my mouth, I asked him to throw
everything which could be got rid of overboard, in order to lighten the
car. He took my meaning at once, and away went the cushions and rugs.
The difference was slight, but still there was a perceptible difference.
At the pace we were now travelling the car rocked from side to side of
the road, and Forrest had to brace himself stiffly against the
foot-board to prevent himself being thrown out. But we were gaining foot
by foot on the fugitives. I felt a thrill of delight when, on reaching
the brow of a hill, I saw the white car only two hundred yards ahead,
and reckoned that in a couple of minutes we should have overtaken them.

But one thing I had overlooked. I became conscious that we should soon
be at the end of our journey, for suddenly I saw the sea on the horizon.
I knew now where we were, knew that the end was in sight. For Mannering
there could be no return, and I shouted aloud with exultation when I
realized it. We drew closer to him, so close that I fancied I could see
his eyes glittering through the mica plate of his mask as he turned to
look at us.

A sudden horror gripped me by the throat. He surely must know as well as
myself that he was near the spot where all roads ended; that we were
barely a mile or two from Land's End. What if he intended to end his
life and his journey together? And what if, not content with destroying
himself, he were to carry with him to destruction the girl who rode
beside him on his car?

We reached within twenty yards of him, and then as if in answer to my
thought, I heard him emit a screech of laughter as his car suddenly shot
away from us, and in half a minute placed him at least a quarter of a
mile ahead. The bitterness of that moment, as my hope died within me, I
can never forget. I only continued the pursuit mechanically.

We thundered through Sennen without pause and so onward until we opened
up the hotel and the stretch of green on the brow of the cliff. Then I
could have shrieked with delight. The white car was standing still and
Mannering had left his seat and was standing by the side. Ten seconds
would have brought us to him. Five passed. He leaped again to his seat,
and as he did so, the white robed figure sprang from the car to the
turf. The Pirate gave a cry of baffled rage. But he had no time to waste
in recovering his escaping victim, for we were within fifty yards of
him. His car leaped forward and, leaving the road, tossed like a boat at
sea over the uneven boulder-strewn turf. We were within five yards of
him, and it was as much as we could manage to do to keep our seats.

Just in time I realized the danger into which we were being unwittingly
drawn, and reversing the gear, I put on both breaks. I was in time, but
only just in time, for we were on a treacherous grassy slope and in
spite of the breaks our car continued to glide forward under the impulse
of the velocity it had attained.

"Jump for your life!" shouted Forrest.

I had wit enough to obey without hesitation.

As I leaped, my eyes were fixed upon Mannering who at that moment had
reached the very edge of the cliff. I saw him disappear, and then I
rolled over on the turf. I was unhurt, and gathering myself together, I
regained my feet just as the car which had carried us so well followed
the maker over the cliff. A dozen paces took me to the spot. I shuddered
as I glanced downwards and saw the fate I had escaped. Two or three
hundred feet below the tide was boiling over the jagged rocks. I fancied
I could discern a few fragments of the white car and that was all.

Not ten seconds before I had seen Mannering wave his hand at us
mockingly as he rode to his death, and I guessed that his intention had
been to lure us on to a common destruction. Once again he had
disappeared, but now I knew it was for all time.

A strange calm came upon me. Straight in front of us the Longships
lighthouse made a pillar of black marble against the huge red disc of
the setting sun. In the far distance the Cassiterides floated cloud-like
on the horizon. I gulped down a sob of thankfulness, for the memory came
upon me that the one whom I loved had been saved by the merest chance
from sharing the fate of the madman who had so unhesitatingly rushed
upon his doom.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Forrest.

"Our work is done," he said, and with an impatient sigh, he took from
his pocket the useless handcuffs and hurled them after the cars. "One
thing we have to be thankful for," he continued, "thank God, Miss
Maitland is safe."

For reply, I could only grasp his hands and wring them silently. As I
did so, I became conscious that a number of excited people had gathered
about us.

"Where--where is she?" I gasped.

Some one pointed to the hotel a hundred yards or so distant, and Forrest
and I hurried towards it. I was a prey to the most horrible anxiety. I
dreaded to contemplate what the result upon the mind of my darling might
be. I had nearly reached the hotel door, when I saw a slight figure step
across the threshold and shade her eyes with her hand. With a cry of
delight I sprang forward.

The next moment Evie was in my arms.

       *       *       *       *       *

That is the story of the Motor Pirate. There remain but a few things to
say. And first of them, let me explain how it happened that Evie managed
to fall into the Pirate's clutches.

I told her later that it was owing to feminine curiosity. She, on the
other hand, declares it was entirely owing to her anxiety on my account.
Whichever was the reason, the moment she had heard Mannering's car
approach, she had gone to the garden-gate, whence she was able to
command a view of the coach-house door. She had seen the man Laver rush
forward at the sound of the whistle. Then the pistol shot rang out, and
the next moment Mannering had appeared on the new car. He had seen her,
and she had attempted to fly to the house, but he had overtaken her and
carried her off. Once on the car he had proceeded a short distance on
the St. Alban's road, and then stopped to speak to her, for the first
and only time on that day.

"I am going to take you for a ride with me, Miss Maitland," he had
observed. "I merely wish to warn you before we start, that at the pace
we shall travel, you will find any attempt to escape exceedingly
dangerous."

It was then from his manner and appearance she had realized that she was
in the power of a madman.

As regards the ride, she could tell me very little. The pace was so
great that, being unprovided with a mask, she was obliged to crouch down
on the seat and cover her face with a rug as a protection against the
dust. It seemed an interminable time, she said, and the moment the car
stopped she made an attempt to regain her liberty, without knowing how
near she was to destruction at the time she made it.

Fortunately the strain had been much less than I expected, so far as
Evie was concerned, and much more than I anticipated, was its effect
upon myself. It was a long time before I completely recovered from the
effects of those three adventurous days. And the worst of it was, that
everything combined to prevent me obtaining the absolute quiet which I
needed. After spending a night at the hotel I, of course, hastened to
take train to London in order to restore Evie to her father. But when I
arrived at my place at St. Albans, I found a veritable army of pressmen
encamped on my doorstep. They would not give me a moment's peace. I was
compelled to remain in bed, and upon sending a message over to Evie to
inform her of my predicament, she informed me that she was similarly
besieged.

We exchanged a dozen notes. I rose when it was dark, and slipped out of
my back door. I could only see one method of securing quiet. Even a
hardened pressman has a dislike to intrude upon the privacy of a newly
married couple, so the next morning Evie and Colonel Maitland joined me
in town, and we were married by special license and, without returning
to St. Albans, we started for my home in Norfolk.

So much for myself.

Forrest was for a long time inconsolable at the final escape of the
Pirate from the hands of justice. So was his subordinate, Laver, whose
sentiments on the subject are quite too lurid for publication.

As for Mannering, no trace of his body was ever found, though I have
since heard that certain portions of the cars have been fished up from
the pools amongst the rocks at the base of the cliffs at low tide. At
present, however, there has not been sufficient of the machinery
recovered to enable any one to construct a similar motor. He had
apparently made no drawings, or else had destroyed them when they had
served his turn, so it would seem as if the secret of the singularly
speedy motor he invented is destined to be lost to the world. Still, it
may be that sufficient will be recovered to give some skilled
mechanician sufficient guidance to enable him to reproduce the lost
pirate car. If not, well, I don't suppose it matters. Some one else will
be sure to invent something similar. In fact, from the hints Mannering
gave me, and owing to the opportunity I had of examining the car in his
workshop, I think it is not unlikely that I shall shortly be applying
for letters patent myself.



CHAPTER XXIV

REVELATIONS


THERE remains only one thing more. I feel that the story would be
incomplete if I kept to myself certain particulars concerning Mannering,
which have come to my knowledge since the day when he made his
sensational flight into eternity from the brow of the cliff at Land's
End. At the time, both my wife and myself wished never to hear again the
name of the man whose actions had provided us with such terrible and
nerve-shattering experiences, but afterwards, when we came to think over
the matter, it occurred to both of us that in fact we knew very little
about the man who had nearly wrecked our lives. To dwell upon that
thought naturally awakened our curiosity concerning his past life, and,
needless to say, when the opportunity occurred for gratifying our
curiosity, we did not for a moment hesitate about accepting it. It is
true that we had gathered from his conversation that he had travelled
widely, but in what capacity, or with what object, we knew as little as
we knew of his birthplace or parentage. We found, too, a difficulty in
understanding the motives which had prompted Mannering's actions, and,
though we often discussed the question, we could never of ourselves
have arrived at a satisfactory solution of the problem.

On this latter point I must mention the conclusion arrived at by _The
Speaker_. This sober-minded and extremely British review declared that
his animating motive was "the strong rock of equity, or abstract
justice," inasmuch as, by principally directing his attention to
motorists, he was avenging _The Speaker's_ quarrel with a class which
this journal held in particular abhorrence. Naturally, both Evie and
myself smiled at the thought that the Motor Pirate was a conservative
gentleman, anxious only to restore to the highways of England something
of their pristine calm. For myself, I inclined to the belief that he was
a remarkable specimen of the megalomaniac, whose exploits were prompted
much more by the desire for notoriety than by any altruistic motive, or
even by any sordid consideration regarding the plunder which he secured.
Certainly had he been a mere criminal, impelled by the desire for the
easy acquisition of wealth, he could have pursued his career for a much
longer period than he actually did. As for my wife, with a woman's
natural tendency to read a romance into any and every development of
human activity, she held fast to the opinion that the Pirate's
extraordinary career was the outcome of an overmastering passion for
herself. The probability is, that in his brain all these motives
operated at different times. The natural love of plunder, inherent in
the criminal mind, is as often as not accompanied by a morbid delight in
awakening the wonder of the public by the performance of startling
deeds and, in the same temperament, it is not unusual to discover the
romantic nature developed to a considerable degree. But, from the data
at our command, I fancy it would have been impossible even for the
experienced psychologist to decide which, so to speak, was the master
impulse.

Perhaps, however, the few facts concerning him, which came into our
possession afterwards, tend to clear up these points to some degree.
Certainly they left me with a clearer light upon his individuality.

To these facts I am indebted to Inspector Forrest, who, some six months
after our famous ride together in pursuit of the pirate, managed to find
time to pay a flying visit to our Norfolk home, where we had continued
to dwell in peaceful seclusion.

It was at dinner, on the night of his arrival, that Forrest first hinted
that he had picked up some details of Mannering's life-history, and of
course nothing would content Evie but a promise that we should hear what
he had discovered. So, directly the meal was finished, we adjourned for
our coffee and cigars to my sanctum, where, in front of a comfortable
fire, Forrest made no difficulty about satisfying our curiosity.

"You see," he began, when his cigar was once well alight, "I was every
bit as curious as Mrs. Sutgrove."

"Or myself," I interrupted.

"Or Mr. Sutgrove," said the detective, smiling, "for there is precious
little difference between the sexes so far as curiosity is concerned, in
spite of the generally accepted opinion on the matter. But being
curious, I naturally made the most minute search when I searched his
place at St. Alban's. I didn't find much there, it is true, but I did
secure a clue which ultimately led me to some lodgings which he had
occupied some three or four years previously, and there, by the merest
good luck, I discovered that when he had departed he had left behind him
a worn-out travelling-bag, and in that bag was a bundle of papers which
supplied me with sufficient information to reconstruct his history to
some extent, though I should not like to swear to the absolute accuracy
of every detail of his biography as I see it."

"Was there nothing at all found at St. Alban's then?" asked Evie.

"I fancy you must have seen in the papers a pretty full account of all
that the police discovered there?" said the detective.

"Yes," replied Evie. "We read a lot of stories, but they varied to such
an extent that we really did not know what to believe."

Forrest smiled. "Now I come to think of it, the reporters did give their
imaginations free reins, but you can take it from me that, with the
exception of the plunder he amassed after his return from that
Continental trip, and the apparatus for the production of the liquid
hydrogen, there was very little in his house of interest to me or you.
There was his bank-book, and some correspondence with a learned
professor at the Royal Institution. I followed up both clues. At the R.
I. I discovered nothing. Mannering had merely posed as a wealthy
amateur in chemistry, and of course he met with every assistance when he
had asked for help in following up his researches into the behaviour of
liquid gases. At his bank also, very little was known about him. When he
had come to St. Alban's he had opened an account by a payment into it of
six or seven thousand pounds in Bank of England notes. He had drawn
steadily upon the account until it was nearly exhausted, and, in point
of fact, there was only a few pounds to his credit from the time when he
commenced his career on the road, until a week or two after his return
from Amsterdam, when he paid in two thousand pounds in gold, and a
fortnight later swelled his balance with a similar amount."

"That was the proceeds of the Brighton mail robbery," I remarked.

Forrest nodded. "That was his only really big coup. As for his other
plunder, he probably disposed of the proceeds of all his early cruises
on the Continent, at the same time that he sold the diamonds. That which
he obtained afterwards was found intact in the safe in his bedroom.
Heavens! What an opportunity I missed by not taking out a search-warrant
for his house. When we paid our midnight visit, there must have been
ample evidence behind the steel door to have convicted him."

The detective was silent for awhile, and bit savagely at his cigar.

"He was not a wealthy man, then," I remarked.

"No," replied Forrest. "There was no trace of his owning any property
anywhere, and his expenditure on the gas plant and on his motors--we
found that the various parts had been made to specification at a variety
of works in England and abroad--had eaten heavily into his capital, so
that at the time of the commencement of his career he must have been
very nearly penniless. Whether he built the motor with the idea of
utilizing it for the purpose he ultimately put it to, of course I cannot
say, but I have a shrewd suspicion that he really did design it for the
purpose, since from what I have learned of him the predatory instinct
must have been pretty strongly developed in him."

The detective paused for a minute, and, flicking the ash off his cigar,
gazed meditatively into the fire.

"You shall judge for yourselves," he continued. "Unfortunately, I cannot
begin right at the beginning, for I do not know where he was born, nor
who his parents were. I can only guess at these facts from the knowledge
that, as a boy, he was at school in the south of England, and that then
his name was Ram Krishna Roy."

"What?" I asked, in amazement. "A Hindu?"

"An Eurasian, I should fancy," replied Forrest. "He had been sent to
school in England by one of those petty Indian princes, who still
exercise sovereignty under British suzerainty."

"How did you discover that?" asked Evie.

"It was like this, Mrs. Sutgrove," replied Forrest. "Amongst the papers
I spoke about as being in the old portmanteau, were a number of letters
written in characters I could not understand. I could see they were
oriental, and that was as much as I could make of them, so I took them
to a noted oriental scholar who translated them for me. The language was
Urdu, and the writer was a munshi, who was obviously communicating with
an old pupil. There were so many references to scenes with which the
person to whom the letters were addressed, as well as the writer, was
familiar, that it was quite clear that the former must have been brought
up amidst purely native surroundings. There were one or two more obscure
allusions which led me to conclude that the boy's mother must have been
a white woman, and from what we saw of him there can be no doubt but
that he was white on one side."

"Nobody would have taken him to be aught but an Englishman," murmured
Evie.

"No," said Forrest. "I was intensely surprised when I discovered these
proofs of his identity and at first I thought they could not apply to
him, but before I come to the connecting link, let me mention one
curious thing in the letters, which may do something to explain the
curious influence which Mannering exerted over Mrs. Sutgrove."

"He hypnotized me, I am sure," declared Evie, decidedly.

"Very possibly," replied the detective. "In nearly every letter was to
be found an admonition to the effect--I cannot give you a verbatim
translation--that the writer hoped his old pupil would not forget that
to him was entrusted the secret power of Siva, which would, by
practice, enable him to mould all men to his will."

"If he had possessed that," I interrupted, "there would have been no
necessity for him to have practised piracy on the high-road."

"True," said Forrest. "But it is quite possible that Mrs. Sutgrove's
conjecture is correct, and that even at that early age Mannering had
learnt something about hypnotism from his native instructor, for I am
very certain that of these semi-occult sciences, the East has much more
precise knowledge than is realized by the Western world."

"Very likely," said my wife, shuddering slightly at the remembrance. "He
certainly had a most singular power over me."

"He probably increased his knowledge when he returned to his native
land, which, I gathered, must have taken place when he was about
seventeen. Then there is a break for nearly ten years in his history."

"I don't quite see how you connect Ram Krishna Roy with Mannering," I
interpolated.

"I'm coming to that," replied Forrest. "With these letters was another
in its original envelope addressed in the same hand to Julian Mannering
at San Francisco. It was the most interesting letter of the lot. It was
full of reproaches addressed to the dear pupil, who had cut himself off
from the asceticism of the East, and devoted himself to the gross
materialism of Western civilization. It concluded by the expression of
an intention to once more attempt to persuade him to return by a
personal appeal. On the back of the letter was a note in Mannering's
handwriting. 'Old Chatterji kept his promise. I had quite a long
conversation with him in the ballroom last night. Everybody thought I
was drunk or mad to be talking Hindustani, apparently to empty air.
However, that's the last of him. I've done with the East.'".

"You make him more a man of mystery than ever," I exclaimed.

"I can't help it," said Forrest. "Perhaps his old tutor really did
appear to him. Perhaps Mannering was mad. Who knows? Both are dead.
However, he seems to have carried out his intention of not returning to
India. Ram Krishna Roy disappeared from that time forth, and Julian
Mannering took his place. He seems to have been doing nothing at San
Francisco at the time, but a little later he appears to have accepted an
appointment as engineer to a mine in Arizona. He left the berth suddenly
a few months later, owing to some trouble about the wife of one of the
miners. The miner was shot, and his comrades were so incensed that
Mannering had to depart hot-foot. Then for awhile I can only guess at
his occupation from some newspaper cuttings which he had preserved.
These point to his identification with the leader of a gang of
desperadoes whose most notable exploit was the successful holding up of
a train which had a considerable quantity of specie on board."

"I remember him describing the affair," said Evie, "though he
represented himself as on the side of the attacked."

"The only assistance he gave to the plundered was to assist them to a
better land by the aid of his gun. He escaped, though, and made his way
to Australia, and once again he resumed the practice of his
profession,--mining engineering. For three or four years he was engaged
at a newly-opened mine in the northern territory of West Australia. But
instinct was too strong for him. He must really have had a strong dash
of the blood of some of those Indian hill-tribe freebooters in his
veins, for he never seems to have been able to resist the prospect of
plunder, and the likelihood of having to fight for it seems to have been
an additional inducement. Thus, at the mine, under his charge, it was
the custom to send, periodically, the gold extracted, under a strong
escort, to the nearest town, some forty miles distant. For a long time
these consignments were delivered with perfect safety. Then, after a
particularly rich vein had been struck, it became necessary to forward a
very large consignment of bullion. Contrary to the usual practice, only
two men were sent in charge of it. Their dead bodies were afterwards
discovered, and the gold was never recovered. No one seems to have had
the least suspicion that the gentlemanly engineer at the mine was likely
to have had something to do with the business, and when, shortly
afterward, he resigned his post and took a passage to Europe, he
received the highest possible testimonials from his manager and
directors. I have no doubt, myself, that he was the prime mover in the
robbery, for his salary was a small one, and directly afterwards he
spent six months in Paris, where his expenditure would have been lavish
for a millionaire."

"That was where my father met him," remarked Evie. "I remember him
expressing surprise at the simplicity of Mannering's life at St. Alban's
in view of the luxury with which he had been surrounded when they had
met previously."

"Just so," said the detective. "But his Paris career ended as it had
commenced. He disappeared suddenly, without a word of farewell to any of
his acquaintance, and had it not been for one bit of evidence, I should
have had not the slightest idea as to what he had been doing with
himself in the interval between that time and his arrival at St.
Alban's. You may remember that a scientific expedition was despatched by
the Dutch government about six years ago to make some investigations in
the interior of New Guinea?"

I shook my head.

"It started six months after Mannering disappeared from Paris, and from
the time it left Batavia _en route_ for New Guinea not a word has ever
been heard of it."

"You cannot mean to infer that Mannering had anything to do with that?"
I asked, incredulously.

"I infer nothing," replied Forrest. "But I do know that a pocketbook,
which had belonged to a chemist attached to the exploring party, was one
of the documents I found in his bag. The book contained a number of
notes upon the liquefaction of gases, and these may very likely have
first interested Mannering in the subject. As I have since discovered
from a search of the registers at Lloyds that there were quite a number
of ships lost about the same time in those seas, I cannot help thinking
that our friend had served an apprenticeship under the black flag at sea
before taking to land piracy."

"At that rate he must have been the greatest criminal on earth," I
declared.

"He was certainly the biggest I ever came across," replied Forrest, "and
my only regret is that I was unable to secure him in order that he might
have judicially paid the penalty for his crimes."

"It was a pity," I said, "though I fancy if we had trapped him he would
have found some means of cheating the gallows and making a melodramatic
exit from the world."

"It is more than likely," said Forrest. "He was not the ordinary type of
criminal. I was speaking to a big mental specialist the other day,
and--but I had better complete the story of his career first. Where did
we leave him?"

"New Guinea," I prompted.

"The only other reason I have for suspecting him of being engaged in
deeds of violence in that quarter of the globe is that he returned to
England _via_ Singapore, with a considerable quantity of bullion in his
possession. The rest of his history you know."

"He seems to have had a stirring existence, anyhow," I commented. "And
one hardly sees any reason for it save natural sin."

"The alienist I was talking to the other day described him as a moral
pervert. He said he was a type of insanity usually associated with
physical incapacity or a low order of intelligence, but when, as in
Mannering's case, both physique and intelligence were above the average,
the moral pervert is a greater danger to the community than an army of
ordinary criminals. If ever I said a prayer it would be when a madman of
that type was removed from the world."

"Amen," said both Evie and I, heartily.


THE END.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Note:

Text uses both St. Alban's and St. Albans.

Page 24, "has" changed to "had" (papers had not)

Page 76, "continue" changed to "continued" (he continued earnestly)

Page 86, "sang-freid" changed to "sang-froid" (companion's _sang-froid_
soon)

Page 88, "typeing" changed to "typing" (typing, and upon)

Page 139, "choose" changed to "chose" (We chose the footpath)

Page 189, closing quote added (address." Then, after)

Page 242, "couples" changed to "couple" (a couple of minutes)





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