"Except so far as it helps our young friend here to buzz off," he said. The modern slang on the lips of the octogenarian made Barraclough laugh. But the nerves of Nugent Cassis were frayed and laughter was an irritant. "Let us keep to the point," he insisted. "Did you follow out those instructions I suggested?" Barraclough nodded. The idea of the false fire came from Cassis and, like most of his schemes, suffered from complexity of detail. He began enumerating the points to be sure that all was in order. Mr. Torrington shook his head and interrupted. "A silly idea," he said, "clever but silly." "If you have a better----" Mr. Torrington put his fingers together and continued slowly. "My method would be to go out through the main entrance wearing no hat and carrying a few letters for the post. There might be a cab waiting at the pillar box--to be exact there is, I ordered one." "That's the idea," cried Almont. "Sweet and simple." "That cab would dodge about the streets a while and eventually make its way to Wimbledon. At Wimbledon it would deposit Barraclough at Number 14a, Medina Road. He would enter the house and change into running shorts and a vest having appointed himself underneath with rather a large pneumatic stomach. Also he would wear a beard and a perfectly bald head. This done he would emerge from the house and start running in the middle of the road in whatever direction he likes with a man on a push bicycle pedalling behind him. "But I can't see----" Cassis began. "Precisely," said Mr. Torrington, "and nor could anyone else. Nobody sees the extraordinary individuals who run at night, they only laugh at them." "If you ask me," said Cassis, drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece, "I am of opinion that we are merely losing time with all this talk and the sooner we get Barraclough away the better." Mr. Torrington's eyes looked him coldly up and down. "You should know me well enough, Cassis, to realise that when I lose time I lose it purposely. I am waiting for Cranbourne." "Cranbourne's ideas are altogether too fantastic." "We agreed to do nothing until eleven o'clock and it wants ten minutes to the hour." "Not a very substantial margin to find Barraclough's double." "It is as easy to find a man in ten minutes as in ten years--a mere matter of chance. For my own part I always favoured indifferent odds." "By Jove, sir," exclaimed Barraclough, "you're my man. Damn the opposition. Damn the odds. We'll do it, what." A measure of his enthusiasm infected the old man. "We'll have a damn good try anyway." "And if it comes to a rough and tumble----" "Hit first and hit hardest." An electric bell swizzed. "He's there." "Failed," grunted Cassis. But Mr. Torrington's eyes were on the clock. "Since he is five minutes ahead of time I imagine he has succeeded." Doran came in. "Mr. Cranbourne, sir."