"Well, we won't bother to look for it," said Tony. "I don't suppose it was a particularly nice one." He turned and glanced down the road. "Hullo," he added, "here comes Bugg! I wonder what he's done with the other chap." With an anxious expression upon his face, the faithful "Tiger" was hurrying along the pavement towards them, moving with that swift cat-like tread that stamps the well-trained athlete. He pulled up with a sigh of relief on seeing that they were both apparently safe. "Sorry I was so long comin', Sir Ant'ny," he observed. "I didn't 'ear nothin'--not till you shouts 'Bugg.'" "I didn't notice any appreciable delay," replied Tony kindly. "Who was our little friend at the gate?" Bugg's face hardened into the somewhat grim expression it generally wore in the ring. "It was that swine Lopez--beggin' your pardon, miss. But it was 'im all right, sir: there ain't no error abaht that." Tony's damaged lips framed themselves into a low whistle. "Lopez, was it!" he said softly. "I ought to have guessed. There was a touch of the expert about that punch." "'E ain't 'urt yer, 'as 'e, sir?" demanded Bugg anxiously. "Oh, no," said Tony, "but he had a very praise-worthy try." Bugg chuckled. "You done it on _'im_ proper, sir. I seed 'is face w'en 'e come aht in the lamp-light, and 'e didn't look as if 'e wanted no more. Any'ow 'e wasn't exac'ly waitin' for it." "Bolted, I suppose?" said Tony laconically. Bugg nodded. "Run like a stag, sir. I didn't go after 'im, not far: I reckoned you might be wantin' me 'ere." "Well, we'd better be getting into the house," said Tony. "We shall have some of the neighbours out in a minute. They are not used to these little scuffles in Hampstead." Even as he spoke one of the front gates clicked, and an elderly gentleman in carpet slippers and a purple dressing-gown appeared on the pavement. He was clutching a poker in his right hand, and he seemed to be in a state of considerable agitation. On seeing the small group he came to an abrupt halt, and drew back his weapon ready for instant action. "What has happened?" he demanded shrilly. "I insist upon knowing what has happened." With a disarming smile Tony advanced towards him. "How do you do?" he said pleasantly. "I am Sir Antony Conway of Goodman's Rest." The elderly gentleman's harassed face changed at once to that affable expression which all respectable Englishmen assume in the presence of rank and wealth. "Indeed--indeed, sir," he observed. "I am delighted to meet you. Perhaps you can inform me what has occurred. I was aroused from my sleep by the sound of firearms--firearms in Hampstead--sir!"