“You forget that constant association with you demands that I should frequently plug my two ears,” retorted Winter. Furneaux would surely have thrown back the jest had not a knock on the door interrupted him. “Who’s there? I’m busy,” cried Winter. “Me-ow!” whined Peters’s voice. “Oh, it’s you, Tom. Come in!” The journalist crept in on tiptoe. “Hush! We are not observed,” he said. “Wally Hart threatens to choke me if you two don’t dine with him and Grant to-night.” There was silence for a little while. The detectives looked at each other. “At what time?” said Winter, at last. Peters was astonished, and showed it. “Why, I assured him it was absolutely imposs.,” he cried. “Well, it isn’t. In fact, it suits our plans. I want exercise, and shall walk back from Knoleworth. Furneaux will make his own arrangements. Tell Grant that I shall drop in without knocking.” “And tell him I shall arrive by parachute,” added Furneaux. “In case of accidents, and there is a shoot-up, with myself as the unresisting victim, my front name is James,” said Peters. “The only good point about you,” scoffed Winter. “You’re strong on names to-day,” tittered the journalist. “Don Manoel Alcorta was a superb effort as an authority on gee-gees. Wally tells me his donship is the recognized expert south of the line on seismic disturbances, and spends his days and nights watching a needle making scratches on a sensitive plate.” “He would be useful here in a day or two,” said Winter. “Ah, thanks! Is that a tip?” “Not for publication. What you must say is that this affair looks like baffling the shrewdest wits in Scotland Yard.” “My very phrase—my own ewe lamb. Pardon. I shouldn’t have alluded to sheep.” “The only known representative of the Yard in Steynholme is Furneaux,” smiled the Chief Inspector. Furneaux was drumming on a window-pane with his finger-tips. “True,” he cackled. “Just to prove it, he now informs you that Siddle, finding trade slow, has called on Mr. John Menzies Grant!” Chapter XVI. Furneaux Makes a Successful Bid The lawn front of _The Hollies_ was not visible from the upper story of the Hare and Hounds owing to a clump of pines which had found foothold on the cliff, but, through the gap formed by the end of the post office garden, the entrance to the house from the Knoleworth road was discernible. Furneaux’s dramatic announcement brought the other two to the window. By this time Peters, gifted with a nose for news like a well-trained setter’s for partridges, had begun to associate the quiet-mannered, gentle-spoken chemist with the inner circle of the crime, so waited and watched with the detectives for Siddle’s reappearance.