After all, there was little that he could do in Rye beyond sending out a few more men to help beat the surroundings of the farm, and send messages to all concerned of this new development. So far as human foresight went all the boltholes had already been stopped. But once in the town and this done, his thoughts moved to Penelope. He determined to reassure her of his safety before turning out on the pursuit once more. He walked from the police station a little pleased with himself. It was the first time he had permitted himself to relax for many long hours, and calm consideration told him that he had done well. The thing was nearly over. To scour out any of Larry's associates who had so far escaped would call for nothing more formidable than ordinary routine and detail work, now that the mastermind was a fugitive who would of a certainty be caught at any minute. It was a pity about Larry but still---- He raised the knocker at the door of his lodgings. His matronly landlady received him with warmth. "Glad to see you back, sir. There have been all sorts of funny stories round the town of things that have been happening. Don't know how you came to miss Miss Noelson. She----" Labar was wiping his boots on the map. "She's out, is she? Where has she gone?" The landlady's face dropped. "Why, she went to meet you. Didn't you send her a note to meet you at the railway station?" The detective gripped her by the shoulder and a wave of apprehension swept over him. "I sent no note. How long ago was this?" "A quarter of an hour. I----" But Labar had flung away from her. He was running at the top of his speed in the direction of the railway station. He was, perhaps for the first time in his life, conscious of deadly fear. Instinctively he knew that such a note could have only come from one person. How Larry Hughes could have known where Penelope was, why he should take the heavy risk of being in Rye at all were matters on which the detective did not stay to reason. Enough it was to know that the girl was in danger. He stayed only to fling an abrupt question to the porter guarding the platform. "Has any train gone out in this last ten minutes?" "No, sir. There's one on the other side just going out for London. Heigh, you can't go through without a ticket." But Labar thrust him aside and took the short cut over the rails without troubling the bridge. Another porter roused by the shout of his colleague rushed to stop him. Labar gave him a push in the chest which sent him headlong. "I'm a police officer," he cried. "Let me alone." Normally he would have cried to the officials to stop the train, but his mind was obsessed with the one idea, and for the moment incapable of coherent reasoning. As he swept by the line of carriages he caught a second's view of the guard with his flag raised and his whistle at his lips.