"First thing to-morrow morning," his master replied. "In the meantime you must, by hook or crook, obtain a police inspector’s, a sergeant’s and two constables’ uniforms with belts and helmets complete. Also I shall require three men in whom I can place absolute and implicit confidence. They must be big fellows with plenty of pluck and intelligence, and the clothes you get must fit them so that they shall not look awkward in them. They must also bring plain clothes with them, for I shall want two of them to undertake a journey to Ireland. They will each be paid a hundred pounds for the job, and to ensure their silence afterwards. Do you think you can find me the men without disclosing my connection with the matter?" "I know exactly where to put my hand upon them, sir," remarked Belton, "and for the sum you mention it’s my belief they’d hold their tongues forever, no matter what pressure was brought to bear upon them." "Very good. You had better communicate with them at once, and tell them to hold themselves in readiness for I may want them at any moment. On Friday night I shall probably attempt the job, and they can get back to town when and how they like. "Very good sir. I’ll see about them this afternoon without fail." Next morning, Belton left London for Liverpool, with the photograph of the mysterious Rooney in his pocket-book. Carne had spent the afternoon with a fashionable party at Hurlingham, and it was not until he returned to his house that he received the telegram he had instructed his valet to send him. It was short, and to the point. Friends arrived. Reach Euston nine o’clock. The station clocks wanted ten minutes of the hour when the hansom containing a certain ascetic-looking curate drove into the yard. The clergyman paid his fare, and, having inquired the platform upon which the Liverpool express would arrive, strolled leisurely in that direction. He would have been a clever man who would have recognized in this unsophisticated individual either deformed Simon Carne of Park Lane, or the famous detective of Belverton Street. Punctual almost to the moment the train put in an appearance and drew up beside the platform. A moment later the curate was engulfed in a sea of passengers. A bystander, had he been sufficiently observant to notice such a thing, would have been struck by the eager way in which he looked about him, and also by the way in which his manner changed directly he went forward to greet the person he was expecting. To all appearances they were both curates, but their social positions must have been widely different if their behavior to each other could have been taken as any criterion. The new arrival, having greeted his friend, turned to two gentlemen standing beside him, and after thanking them for their company during the journey, wished them a pleasant holiday in England, and bade them good-bye. Then, turning to his friend again, he led him along the platform towards the cab rank.