‘You aren’t yourself yet,’ she said. ‘You’re only a goose yet. That was only an excuse for attacking us.’ Richard got up, and speedily discovered that he could walk. They proceeded to the abandoned car. It was a 40 h.-p. concern, fully equipped and stored. The travellers by it had already begun to mend their puncture when the pursuing car surprised them. They had evidently judged it easier to change cars than to finish the mending. Speed was their sole object, and in the carrying out of the schemes of a man like Simon Lock a 40 h.-p. Panhard left by the roadside was a trifle. In twenty minutes the puncture was successfully mended, both Richard and Teresa being experts at the operation. The effect of the blow on Richard’s head had by this time quite passed away, save for a bruise. ‘And now for Manchester Square,’ said Teresa, as they moved off. ‘Why Manchester Square?’ Richard asked. ‘That is where they were going; I heard them talking.’ ‘It will be Simon Lock’s house,’ said Richard. ‘I must go there alone.’ From Redbourne to London, with a clear road and a 40 h.-p. Panhard beneath you, is not a far cry. In a shade under the hour the motor-car was running down Edgware Road to the Marble Arch. Richard kept straight on to Adelphi Terrace, put up the car at a stable-yard close by without leave, and, having aroused his landlady, gave Teresa into her charge until breakfast-time. It was just turned four o’clock, and a beautiful morning. ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Teresa. ‘I don’t exactly know. I’ll take a cab and the revolver to Manchester Square, and see what happens. You can rely upon me to take care of myself.’ He could see that she wished to accompany him, and without more words he vanished. In ten minutes, having discovered a cab, he was in the vast silence of Manchester Square. He stopped the cab at the corner, and walked to Simon Lock’s house, whose number he knew. A policeman stood at the other side of the square, evidently curious as to the strange proceedings within the well-known residence of the financier. The double outer doors were slightly ajar. Richard walked nonchalantly up the broad marble steps and pushed these doors open and went in. A second pair of doors, glazed, now fronted him. Behind these stood a man in evening dress, but whether or not he was a servant Richard could not determine. ‘Open,’ said Richard. The man seemed not to hear him. He lifted up the revolver. The man perceived it, and opened the doors. ‘Where is Mr. Lock?’ Richard demanded in a firm, cold voice. ‘I am a detective. I don’t want you to come with me. Stay where you are. Simply tell me where he is.’ The man hesitated. ‘Quick,’ said Richard, fingering the revolver.. ‘He was in the library, sir,’ the man faltered. ‘Anyone with him?’ ‘Yes, sir; some gentlemen.’ ‘How long have they been here?’ ‘Not long. They came unexpected, sir.’ ‘Well, see that you don’t mix yourself up in anything that may occur. Which is the library door?’