COUNTRY HOUSE OUTRAGE. FRESH CLUE. CAT SEEN. SENSATIONAL STORY. After much groaning and agony George would force himself to know the worst; after swearing furiously through the paragraphs of stuffing with which Mr. Bitt's cunning young man skilfully evaded the point, would come at last upon the “fresh clue” and read with a groan of relief that, so far as the truth were concerned, it was no clue at all. But the strain was horrible. All Temple Colney read the _Daily_; eagerly debated its “Catchy Clues.” Yet George could not see, he told himself, that he would better his plight by seeking fresh retreat. If the _Daily_ were to be believed, all the United Kingdom read it and discussed its Catchy Clues. He decided it were wiser to remain racked at Temple Colney rather than try his luck, and perhaps be torn to death, elsewhere. Twice he had been moved to abandon his awful enterprise--in the train fleeing from the red-headed Pinner boy; pounding across country pursued by curious inhabitants of Temple Colney. On these occasions this miserable George had been minded to cry defeated to the circumstances that struck at him, to return to Herons' Holt with the cat whilst yet he might do so without gyves on his wrists. But thought of his dear Mary hunted thought of this craven ending. “I'll hang on!” he had cried, thumping the carriage seat: “I'll hang on! I'll hang on! I'll hang on!” he had thumped into the table upon his weary return to the inn on the day he had been followed. He had cause for hope. When, on his second morning at Temple Colney, the _Daily_ had struck him to white agony by its newest headlines; cooling, he was able to find comfort in the news it gave to the world. “On the advice of the eminent detective, Mr. David Brunger, who has the case in hand, the reward has been raised to 125 pounds.” “Whoop!” cried George, spirits returning. III. Three days had passed. Rain began to fall heavily on this afternoon. Usually--even had there been floods--George did not return to the inn until seven o'clock. The less he was near the abode of man the safer was his vile secret. But to-day, when the clouds told him a steady downpour had set in, he put out for his lodging before three. He was in high spirits. Success was making him very bold. At Temple Colney, thus far, no breath of suspicion had paled his cheek; at Herons' Holt events were galloping to the end he would have them go. That morning the _Daily_ had announced the raising of the reward to 150 pounds. True, the _Daily_ added that Mr. Marrapit had declared, absolutely and finally, that he would not go one penny beyond this figure. George laughed as he read. In four days his uncle had raised the offer by fifty pounds; at this rate--and the rate would increase as Mr. Marrapit's anguish augmented--the 500 pounds would soon be reached. And then! And then!