"Well, there's hospitality if you like," said Cleek, as, at their approach, a cheery-faced landlady bobbed up at an open window and, seeing them, bobbed away again and ran round to welcome them with smiles and curtseys delivered from the arch of a vine-bowered door. "Welcome, gentlemen, welcome," beamed she as they came up and joined her. "But however in the world did you manage to get over here so soon?--the train not being due at Shepperton Old Cross until five-and-twenty past one, and that a good mile and a quarter away as the crow flies. However, better too early than too late--Major Norcross and Lady Mary being already here and most anxious to meet you." As it happened that neither Cleek nor Mr. Narkom had any personal acquaintance with the lady and gentleman mentioned, it was so clearly a case of mistaken identity that the superintendent had it on the tip of his tongue to announce the fact, when there clashed out the sound of a door opening and shutting rapidly, a clatter of hasty footsteps along the passage, and presently there came into view the figure of a bluff, hearty, florid-faced man of about five-and-forty, who thrust the landlady aside and threw a metaphorical bombshell by exclaiming excitedly: "My dear sir, I never was so delighted. Talk about English slowness. Why, this is prompt enough to satisfy a Yankee. I never dispatched my letter to you until late yesterday afternoon, Mr. Narkom, and--by the way, which _is_ Mr. Narkom, and which that amazing Mr. Cleek? Or, never mind--perhaps that clever johnnie will be coming later; you can tell me all about that afterward. For the present, come along. Let's not keep Lady Mary waiting--she's anxious. This way, please." Here--as Mr. Narkom had lost no time in acknowledging his identity, it being clear that no mistake had been made after all--here he caught the superintendent by the arm, whisked him down the passage, and throwing open the door at the end of it, announced excitedly, "All right, Mary. The Yard's answered--the big reward's caught 'em, as I knew it would--and here's Narkom. That chap Cleek will come by a later train, no doubt." The response to this came from an unexpected quarter. Of a sudden the man he had left standing at the outer door, under the impression that he was in no way connected with the superintendent, but merely a gentleman who had reached the inn at the same time, came down the passage to the open door, brushed past him into the room, and announced gravely, "Permit me to correct an error, please, Major. The 'man Cleek' is not coming later--he is here, and very much at your and Lady Mary Norcross' service, believe me. I have long known the name of Major Seton Norcross as one which stands high in the racing world--as that, indeed, of the gentleman who owns the finest stud in the kingdom and whose filly, Highland Lassie, is first favourite for the forthcoming Derby--and I now have the honour of meeting the gentleman himself, it seems."