"Out of one of the other rooms! I told you to watch them!" Inspector Sheffield was angry, but he had not lost his presence of mind. "We must get out--quick! The window!" He leapt to the low window, throwing it open. "Too far to drop! We've got to smash the door! Perhaps they've left the key in the lock! Set to on the panel with that bit of iron of yours!" The man began a vigorous assault upon the woodwork. It was old, but very tough, and yielded tardily to the blows of the instrument. Then a big crack appeared as the result of a stroke shrewdly planted. "Stand away!" directed Sheffield; and leaning back upon his left foot, he dashed his right upon the broken panel, shattering it effectually. At the moment that the chauffeur thrust his hand through the jagged aperture to seek for the key, _thud! thud! thud!_ came from the lane below. "That's the car!" cried the inspector. "My God! what have they done to Mr. Belford?" The other paused and listened intently. "It's the grey car," he said. "Why didn't they take the guv'nor's?" "Open the door!" cried Sheffield impatiently. "Is the key there?" "Yes," was the reply; "here we are!" And the door was opened. Sheffield started down the stairs with noisy clatter, and, the chauffeur a good second, raced through the rooms below and out into the yard. "Mr. Belford! Mr. Belford!" he cried. But no answer came, only a whisper from the coppice, followed by the squeak of the crazy shutter. They ran out to where they had left Belford on guard over the grey car; but no sign of him remained, nor evidence of a struggle. The hum of the retreating motor grew faint in the distance. "Ah!" cried Sheffield, and started running towards Mr. Belford's limousine on the edge of the coppice. "Quick! don't you see? _He's kidnapped!_ In you go! This just about sees me out at Scotland Yard if we don't overtake them!" "They've gone back the way we've just come!" said the chauffeur, hurling himself on board. "I can't make out where they're going--and I can't make out why they took the worst car! It's an old crock, hired from Lewes. We can run it down inside five minutes!" "Thank God for that!" said Sheffield, as, for the second time that night, he set out across moonlit Sussex on the front of the big car, in pursuit of the most elusive man who ever had baffled the Criminal Investigation Department. Visions of degradation to the ranks from which he so laboriously had risen occupied his mind to the exclusion of all else; for to have allowed the notorious Severac Bablon to kidnap the Home Secretary under his very eyes was a blunder which he knew full well could not be condoned. Even the breathless drop into the great bowl on the Downs did not serve to dispel his gloomy dreams. Then: "There they are! And, as I live, making straight for Womsley!" cried the chauffeur.