The conveniences of civilisation are rarely noticed until they are missed. Harry Labar would have given much to have had a telephone within convenient access just then. He regretted that he had not hunted in company with Malone instead of separating to widen the search. He had little doubt that if he followed the car tracks back he must come sooner or later upon the retreat of Larry Hughes and his followers. But what then? What chance would he stand if he essayed any step singlehanded against this gang of armed and desperate men? His commonsense told him to go back to obtain reinforcements from the Kent Constabulary or even to wire to Scotland Yard. But he had no idea how long it would take him to walk out of the marsh, let alone to get in touch with aid. Many hours at the best was certain. Meantime Larry and his friends might slip out of the trap--for all he knew, they might have done so already. Every minute might be valuable. He felt that he was behaving like an impetuous and foolish youngster as he bent his head to follow the tyre tracks in the direction from which the car had come. The mist grew thicker as he trudged on. A damp seafog was sweeping up from the channel and he shivered beneath his old tweeds. But for the track he must have inevitably become lost for it soon became impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. Once he paused to do a queer thing. He walked deliberately in the muddy slime of a dyke till his boots were covered with mud. He twisted his slouch hat into a ball and trod on it. With his penknife he started little holes in his jacket and trousers, and tore at them with his fingers till the already shabby suit had become even more dilapidated. A handful of dirt applied to edges of the rents added to their verisimilitude. One of the best dressed men at Scotland Yard had become a perfect specimen of a down-at-heels tramp. He reasoned that should any unexpected encounter take place in the fog with any of Larry's people he might thus elude recognition. It might be a superfluous precaution, but it was as well to be prepared. So he moved on, slowly, because it was necessary to watch the trail closely. He reckoned that he had been following the tyre tracks for an hour and a half when a shadowy outline ahead told him that he was within a few yards of some building. His pulse moved a beat quicker as he discerned a yard or two in front of him ghostly tall iron gates. They were solid enough as he reached out to touch them and a second's investigation told him of the padlock with which they were secured. As he stood considering his next move there was a quick yelp. Then a huge form magnified by the mist to gigantic dimensions, hurled itself with a low snarl at the bars. Lucky, too, it was for Labar that the gate stood between him and the Alsatian. The gate shook with the impact, and swiftly and silently as a shadow Labar leapt away.