I put out my arm, and peering into the man's face, asked: "Is there nothing else, eh?" "Nothing," he replied. "Why? You are here to meet me. Rudolph sent you down from London." I was awaiting the prearranged word that would show the hunchback's _bona fides_. I gave him another opportunity of giving the password, but he seemed ignorant of it. Next second, my suspicions being aroused, I sprang down, and crying: "Look here, old fellow! I fancy you've made a mistake!" I struck him familiarly upon the back. His hump was _soft_! In that instant I detected him as an impostor--a Scotland Yard detective--without a doubt! Fortunately for me my brain acts quickly. But it was not so quick as his. He gave a shrill whistle, and in a flash from nowhere three of his colleagues appeared. They ran around the car to hold it up. For a few seconds I found myself in serious jeopardy. I sprang into the driver's seat, switched on the self-starter, and just as one of the detectives tried to mount beside me, I threw down among my assailants a little dark brown bomb the shape of an egg, with which Rayne had provided me in case of emergency. It exploded with a low fizz and its fumes took them aback, allowing me to shoot away over the bridge and down into Bristol, much wiser than when I had arrived. The arrangement of that password in itself showed how cleverly Rudolph Rayne was foresighted in all his plans. He always left a loophole for escape. Surely he was a past-master in the art of criminality, for his fertile brain evolved schemes and exit channels which nobody ever dreamed of. The squire of Overstow, who was regarded by the wealthy county people of Yorkshire as perfectly honest in all his dealings, and unduly rich withal, attracted to his table some of the most exclusive hunting set, people with titles, as well as the _parvenus_ "impossibles" who had bought huge places with the money made out of the war. The "County" never dreamed of the mysterious source of Rudolph Rayne's unlimited income. After traveling through a number of deserted streets in Bristol, I at last found myself upon a high road with a signpost which told me that I was on my way to Wells, that picturesque little city at the foot of the Mendip Hills. So, fearing lest I might be followed, I went "all out" through Axbridge and Cheddar, until at last I came to the fine old cathedral at Wells, which I knew quite familiarly. Near it was the Swan Hotel, at which, after some difficulty, I aroused the "boots," secured a room, and placed the car in the garage. It was then nearly half-past three in the morning, and my only object in taking a room was to inform Rayne by telephone of my narrow escape. Rayne was remaining the night at Half Moon Street, while Lola and Madame Duperre were at the Carlton. We had all come up from Overstow a couple of days before, and two secret meetings had been held at Half Moon Street.