The three (for Hank led the way) reached there in five. The station inspector was on the platform, a courteous man with a cheerful eye and a short grey beard. Hank was to the point. "I want you to flag the Continental," he said. "That’s an Americanism, isn’t it," smiled the inspector. "You want me to put the signal against the Continental Mail." Hank nodded. "I won’t say it cannot be done," said the inspector, "but there will have to be a very urgent reason." "That," said the admiring Hank, "is the kind of talk I like to hear;" and he told the official the whole story. The inspector nodded. "Next platform," he said shortly and ran for the signal box. As they reached the platform the green light that gave "road clear" to the Continental swung up to red. "Here’s all the money I have," said Hank quickly: he emptied his pockets into the Duke’s hands. "I’ll get the Dover ’phone busy, charter a tug—you’ll have to take your chance about the boat. She’ll pull up if you signal her. I’ll send you some money by wireless—here she comes." She came—the noisy Continental reluctantly slowing down, steaming and snorting and whistling at the indignity. The Duke bustled in, the starting signal fell.... "Look after the house!" shouted the Duke from the window. The train was on the move, when a man came flying down the steps. "Stop _you_!" yelled Hank. "Bang! bang! bang!..." A group of porters surrounded the recumbent figure of Mr. Bill Slewer of Four Ways, who lay with a bullet in his leg cursing in a strange language. Bill’s revolver had fallen on to the metals, but Hank’s slim Smith-Wesson hung in his hand still smoking. "You must do the ’phoning," he said to the white-faced girl. "I shall have to stay and explain away William." In the meantime the tail-lights of the Continental had disappeared round the curve. *Part III* *THE DUKE RETURNS* *I* Sir Harry Tanneur stood with his back to the library fire, in a disconsolate mood. An industrious authority on heraldry had that morning rendered the report of a great discovery which at any other time would have filled the heart of the knight with joy, namely the connexion of the house of Tanneur with the Kings of France through Louis de Tendour and the Auvegian Capels. There was little consolation in the Lilies of France, and meagre satisfaction to be derived from the "bloody hand en fesse on a field fretty." Sir Harry’s mind was occupied with the contents of a letter which had arrived by the same post as the herald’s report. It was brief and to the point. DEAR SIR,—