Five minutes, ten minutes passed, and his keen eyes caught sight of a man walking rapidly the way he had come, and he grinned in the darkness. It was Knebworth. Jack had been perturbed by the visitor, and was on his way to the police station to make inquiries about Michael. This the tramp guessed, though he had little time to consider the director’s movements, for a car came noiselessly around the corner and stopped immediately opposite him. “Is that you, my friend?” “Yes,” said the tramp in a sulky voice. “Come inside.” The tramp lurched forward, peering into the dark interior of the car. Then, with a turn of his wrist, he jerked open the door, put one foot on the running-board, and suddenly flung himself upon the driver. “_Mr. Head-Hunter, I want you!_” he hissed. The words were hardly out of his mouth before something soft and wet struck him in the face—something that blinded and choked him, so that he let go his grip and fought and clawed like a dying man at the air. A push of the driver’s foot, and he was flung, breathless, to the side-walk, and the car sped on. Jack Knebworth had witnessed the scene as far as it could be witnessed in the half-darkness, and came running across. A policeman appeared from nowhere, and together they lifted the tramp into a sitting position. “I’ve seen this fellow before to-night,” said the policeman. “I warned him.” And then the prostrate man drew a long, sighing breath, and his hands went up to his eyes. “This is where I hand in my resignation,” he said, and Knebworth’s jaw dropped. It was the voice of Michael Brixan! CHAPTER XXXIV THE SEARCH “YES, it’s me,” said Michael bitterly. “All right, officer, you needn’t wait. Jack, I’ll come up to the house to get this make-up off.” “For the Lord’s sake!” breathed Knebworth, staring at the detective. “I’ve never seen a man made up so well that he deceived me.” “I’ve deceived everybody, including myself,” said Michael savagely. “I thought I’d caught him with a dummy letter, instead of which the devil caught me.” “What was it?” “Ammonia, I think—a concentrated solution thereof,” said Michael. It was twenty minutes before he emerged from the bathroom, his eyes inflamed but otherwise his old self. “I wanted to trap him in my own way, but he was too smart for me.” “Do you know who he is?” Michael nodded. “Oh, yes, I know,” he said. “I’ve got a special force of men here, waiting to effect the arrest, but I didn’t want a fuss, and I certainly did not want bloodshed. And bloodshed there will be, unless I am mistaken.” “I didn’t seem to recognize the car, and I know most of the machines in this city,” said Jack. “It is a new one, used only for these midnight adventures of the Head-Hunter. He probably garages it away from his house. You asked me if I’d have something to eat just now, and I lied and told you I was living on the fat of the land. Give me some food, for the love of heaven!”