“I don’t know what it was, then!” growled Edward. “Did you find out anything when you went off that time on the bike?” Palmer shook his head. “I found out everything that I _have_ found out when I was sitting under the tree――sleeping, as you called it.” But Edward was feeling rather sore at Palmer’s reticence, and, when he thought of the unfortunate Grif, other emotions, too, seemed to clamour for expression. “Well, I think it’s pretty rotten not saying something. You knew Grif was only a kid, and not even a kid who’s much good at looking after himself. Anything may happen to him if he gets in among those toughs, especially if they have stolen Pouncer.” Palmer looked troubled. He wished himself, now, that he had spoken sooner. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, gazing out of the window. “I didn’t tell you, because they none of them ever do till the whole thing’s fixed up.” “Who’s ‘_they_’?” asked Edward impatiently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I mean Sherlock Holmes never told Watson, and Raffles never told Bunny.” Edward laughed unpleasantly. “I suppose you think you’re like them, don’t you? Well, you aren’t, and never will be. And even if you were, I’m certainly not your Watson or your Bunny.” These words, and still more the laugh which accompanied them, touched Palmer where he was most sensitive, and his cheeks flushed. “I _have_ a plan,” he said, “although you may talk. And I always intended you to be in it. I was going to tell you not to undress.” “You needn’t bother: I’m not likely to till I know what’s happened. If they go out to look for Grif I’m going with them.” “It won’t be necessary,” said Palmer, gloomily. He went to a chest of drawers, and opening the lowest drawer pulled out a package hidden under sundry articles of clothing. He stripped off the paper. “Where did you get that from?” Edward asked. “I got it this afternoon. I saw it in the saddler’s shop last week. It’s a second-hand one, but it’s all right, and I know how to use it.” He eyed the revolver with a sort of melancholy joy. “What are you going to do with it?” “Perhaps nothing:――it all depends.” “Depends on what?” Palmer was silent: he hated having to reveal his plans in this way. Then he said slowly: “In a little more than two hours from now I’ll introduce you to the man with the earrings.” Edward’s jaw dropped. “Where?” “Here. I am expecting him to-night.” “But how――――” “The man with the earrings is the man who stole Pouncer.” “But how do you know he will come?” asked Edward, quickly growing sceptical as he recovered from his surprise.