The crowd of spectators, which had been considerably reinforced, received its second thrill that morning at the sight of a short sturdily built man, apparently drunk, being helped into the second car. They noticed that he blinked violently in the sunlight, and those who were near enough saw that his eyes were watering profusely. One or two of the more observant observed that he stumbled as he entered the taxi, and would have fallen but for those supporting him. The second car immediately drove off. A few minutes later two more men left "The Cedars" and entered the third car, which with the first then drove off, leaving Mr. Naylor's residence in the charge of the "survey" men and two of the "workmen." In the back-garden James was having a meal--it was to be his last. "I should like a smoke, chief. I left my pipe behind," said one of the men in the third car, as he took from his pocket a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and proceeded to put them on. "Here, try one of these," and a gold-mounted cigar case was passed towards him, a case that seemed strangely out of keeping with the corduroys of the owner. "Well, it's been a happy day," said Malcolm Sage, as he proceeded to light the cigar Colonel Walton had given him. "I hope the other fellows have got their lot," said the Chief of Department Z., as the car ran into the High Road. "Trust them," was the answer. "Finlay wouldn't let Naylor escape him. I should like to know what they're saying at the Tower," he added a moment later. From half-past twelve until nearly two that day, the officials at the Tower were kept busily occupied in receiving guests. The appetite for lunch of the officer of the guard was entirely spoiled. "Where the deuce are we going to put them all," he asked of one of his N.C.O.'s. The man shook his head helplessly. "It might be a Rowton's lodging-house," grumbled the officer, as he made the twenty-third entry in what he facetiously called the "Goods Received Book." "Damn the war!" III "Well, Thompson," remarked Colonel Walton with a smile, "you have earned----" "A wound stripe," interrupted Sage. Thompson grinned, as he looked down at his right arm resting in a sling. "It was meant for Mr. Dene, sir," he said. "I just got there in time. It was that ferret-eyed little blighter," he added without the slightest suggestion of animosity. Thompson was a sportsman, taking and giving hard knocks with philosophic good-humour. "Plucky little devil," murmured Malcolm Sage. "He bit and scratched with the utmost impartiality." Malcolm Sage and Thompson were seated in Colonel Walton's room discussing the events of the morning. "We were only just in time," said Sage. "Finlay was right." Colonel Walton nodded. "It was dope, sir." Thompson looked from Colonel Walton to Malcolm Sage. "Sir Bryllith said he'll be months in a home." "Yes," said Sage. "He won't be fit to answer questions for a long time. Been doped all the time, nearly three months."