“This time next year I’m going to be an artist of leisure,” said John Bennett, who looked ten years younger. Dick offered to drive him to town, but this he would not hear of. He had to make a call at Dorking. Apparently he had letters addressed to him in that town (Dick learnt of this from the girl) concerning his mysterious errands. Dick left Horsham with a heart lighter than he had brought to that little country town, and was in the mood to rally Inspector Elk for the profound gloom which had settled on him since he had discovered that there was not sufficient evidence to try Balder for his life. CHAPTER XXX THE TRAMPS LEW BRADY sat disconsolately in Lola Bassano’s pretty drawing-room, and a more incongruous figure in that delicate setting it was impossible to imagine. A week’s growth of beard had transfigured him into the most unsavoury looking ruffian, and the soiled old clothes he wore, the broken and discoloured boots, the grimy shirt, no less than his own personal uncleanliness of appearance made him a revolting object. So Lola thought, eyeing him anxiously, a foreboding of trouble in her heart. “I’m finished with the Frog,” growled Brady. “He pays—of course he pays! But how long is it going on, Lola? You brought me into this!” He glowered at her. “I brought you in, when you wanted to be brought into something,” she said calmly. “You can’t live on my savings all your life, Lew, and it was nearly time you made a little on the side.” He played with a silver seal, twiddling it between his fingers, his eyes gloomily downcast. “Balder’s caught, and the old man’s dead,” he said. “They’re the big people. What chance have I got?” “What were your instructions, Lew?” she asked for the twentieth time that day. He shook his head. “I’m taking no risks, Lola. I don’t trust anybody, not even you.” He took a small bottle from his pocket and examined it. “What is that?” she asked curiously. “Dope of some kind.” “Is that part of the instructions too?” He nodded. “Are you going in your own name?” “No, I’m not,” he snapped. “Don’t ask questions. I’m not going to tell you anything, see? This trip’s going to last a fortnight, and when it’s finished, I’m finished with Frog.” “The boy—is he going with you?” “How do I know? I’m to meet somebody somewhere, and that’s all about it.” He looked at the clock and rose with a grunt. “It’s the last time I shall sit in a decent parlour for a fortnight.” He gave a curt nod and walked to the door. There was a servants’ entrance, a gallery which was reached through the kitchen, and he passed down the stairs unobserved, into the night.