Hughes fidgeted a little to get his bound hands in a more comfortable position. "My dear Sherlock, if you had more brains and less luck, you wouldn't ask me that question. Where is the last place that you expected to find me to-day? Where are your people still looking for me now? Not in Rye. Nor would they have looked very hard in London. They're clustering round the ports interfering with innocent trippers. Where would a hunted man with only ten pounds in his pocket make for in the circumstances? I ask you. If he had any sense he'd go in the direction that would be least obvious. He'd make for a place where he could get funds and lay quiet till he could get snugly out of the country." "Sorry to have had to truss you up so tight," said Labar, as the other writhed a little impatiently. "I wouldn't trouble to attempt to loosen your hands." He left his seat and came over by Larry in obvious readiness to deal with any contingency. "This is the finish, Larry. You may as well take it easily." Hughes sat quiet for a while. Then a bitter smile flickered about his lips. "Machine or no machine, do you know what's thrown me down, Labar? You and some of the dolts from Scotland Yard may preen yourselves, but there's only one thing in it. Do you know Latin? _Quos Deus vult perdere prius dementat._ In other words I made a fool of myself over a woman." His glance rested for a moment on Penelope's face. "I mixed love with my business. If I had left Miss Noelson alone would you have known anything about 'Mope's Bottom'? You'd have had the devil's own job to bring anything home to me. Even now I'd have been travelling up to town, and left you and your gang running round in circles, if I hadn't taken a desperate chance of snatching her at the last moment. Yes, Miss Noelson, if it's any satisfaction to you it's you who have finished me and not Scotland Yard." "Go as far as you like," observed Labar. "The big fact is that here you are and here I am. As a matter of curiosity how did you know where Miss Noelson was to-day?" "Easy," said Larry, contemptuously. "By the time I got to the town every soul in it knew that there were happenings on the marsh. The police knew, and the tradesmen knew, that a detective down from London had started the affair. Rye isn't a big place and I know one or two of the tradesfolk, although, of course, they didn't know I was the man all the bother was about. I used my wits, Labar. Now let me ask how things went at 'Mope's Bottom' after I left." "We made a clean-up," explained the detective. "Nobody hurt very seriously, but we've got the whole of the gang, and we've raided your cache. You'll have to explain a lot of things." Larry lifted his shoulders indifferently. "Oh, I'll take what's coming to me. Let the boys down as light as you can. There's some white men amongst them." The detective made no reply and Larry subsided into a moody silence.