“Balder’s got his promotion,” said Elk solemnly, and Dick stared at him. “He’s an Acting-Sergeant,” Elk went on, “and I don’t know a better rank for Balder. When this news comes to him and his wife and children, there’ll be some happy hearts, believe me.” Elk never drank: this was the first thought that came to Dick Gordon’s mind; but there was a possibility that the anxieties and worries of the past few weeks might have got on top of him. “I’m very glad for Balder,” he said gently, “and I’m glad for you too, Elk, because I know you tried hard to get this miserable devil a step in the right direction.” “Go on with what you were thinking,” said Elk. “I don’t know that I was thinking anything,” laughed Dick. “You were thinking that I must be suffering from sunstroke, or I shouldn’t take you out of your comfortable theatre to announce Balder’s promotion. Now will you get your coat, Captain Gordon, and come along with me? I want to break the news to Balder.” Mystified, but asking no further questions, Gordon went to the cloak-room, got his coat, and joined the detective in the vestibule. “We’re going to Slough—to the Seven Gables,” he added. “It’s a fine house. I haven’t seen it, but I know it’s a fine house, with a carriage drive and grand furniture, electric light, telephone and a modern bathroom. That’s deduction. I’ll tell you something else—also deduction. There are trip wires on the lawn, burglar alarms in the windows, about a hundred servants——” “What the devil are you talking about?” asked Dick, and Elk chuckled hysterically. They were running through Uxbridge when a long-bodied motor-car whizzed past them at full speed. It was crowded with men who were jammed into the seats or sat upon one another’s knees. “That’s a merry little party,” said Dick. “Very,” replied Elk laconically. A few seconds later, a second car flashed past, going much faster than they. “That looks to me like one of your police cars,” said Dick. This, too, was crowded. “It certainly looks like one of my police cars,” agreed Elk. “In America they’ve got a better stunt. As you probably know, they’ve a fine patrol wagon system. I’d like to introduce it into this country; it’s very handy.” As the car slowed to pass through the narrow, crooked street of Colnebrook, a third of the big machines squeezed past, and this time there was no mistaking its character. The man who sat with the driver, Dick knew as a detective inspector. He winked at Elk as he passed, and Elk winked back with great solemnity. “What is the idea?” asked Dick, his curiosity now thoroughly piqued. “We’re having a smoking concert,” said Elk, “to celebrate Balder’s promotion. And it will be one of the greatest successes that we’ve had in the history of the Force. There will be the brothers Mick and Mac, the trick cyclists, in their unrivalled act . . .” He babbled on foolishly.