Jennings received this statement with an unmoved expression, and leaving him to carry out his instructions, Tony entered the hall. He walked across to the stick rack in the corner, where he proceeded to select a large and particularly heavy Irish blackthorn from the numerous specimens that it contained. He weighed this thoughtfully in his hand, and then, apparently satisfied with its possibilities, he lighted himself a cigar and strolled off down the drive and out across the Heath in the direction of Mrs. Spalding's house. CHAPTER XI THE BAITED TRAP Latimer Lane, which was the name of the secluded little road in which the Spaldings' house was situated, presented a most restful appearance as Tony entered it from the upper end. Except for a solitary cat sunning herself in the gutter, there was no sign of life throughout its entire length. If any sinister-looking gentlemen were really lurking in the neighbourhood, they had at least succeeded in concealing themselves with the most praiseworthy skill. With his blackthorn in his hand Tony sauntered peacefully along the pavement. There was nothing about his appearance to suggest that he was taking any unusual interest in his surroundings. His whole demeanour was as free from suspicion as that of the cat herself, who merely opened one sleepy eye at his approach, and then closed it again with an air of sun-warmed indifference. He turned in at the gate of Mrs. Spalding's house without so much as a backward glance, and strolling up the garden path, knocked lightly at the door. It was opened almost immediately by Bugg, whose face lit up with that same sort of simple-hearted smile that Ney used to assume at the appearance of Napoleon. "It's all right, sir," he whispered exultingly, as soon as the door was closed again. "'E's still there, an' 'tother bloke too!" Tony hung up his hat, and with tender care deposited his blackthorn on the hall table. "That's splendid, Bugg," he said. "Where is Miss Francis?" With a jerk of his thumb, Bugg indicated the basement. "She's dahn there along o' Mrs. Spalding, sir." The words had hardly left his lips, when Isabel, slightly flushed and looking prettier than ever, emerged from the head of the kitchen stairs. "Oh," she said, "you have just come at the right time. Mrs. Spalding and I have been making some scones for tea." Tony looked at her in admiration. "What wild and unexpected talents you have, Isabel," he remarked. She laughed happily. "I can make very good scones," she said. "That was one of the extra and private accomplishments that Miss Watson taught me." She paused. "How soon would you like to have tea?" "Do you mind putting it off for a little bit?" said Tony. "I have got something I want to speak to you about first." He turned to Bugg. "Go out into the yard behind, Bugg," he said, "and have a nice careful look at the back wall. I want to know if it's fairly easy to climb and what there is the other side of it."