This being settled so far--although I unsettled my mind again and again through the long night--I went to mess and made a pretence of eating. Cannington and his friend had not yet returned, which made me believe that the two featherheads had smashed my car. If so it was a great nuisance, as I wanted the Rippler to drive over to Burwain on the morrow. However, the two arrived about midnight with a long account of a police trap which had detained them, and I went off to bed, leaving them to their supper. Cannington came to my bedside to relate his London adventures, but I used such bad language that he retreated promptly. Next morning I departed immediately after breakfast, more puzzled than ever over the problem I was setting out to solve. Had Miss Monk the glass eye? If so, was she guilty? If she had not the glass eye, who had? Did she love Joseph Striver? Would he find the glass eye, and consequently the fortune? If he did, would he marry Miss Monk, etc. etc. etc.: my brain was an absolute chaos. "Well, good-bye, old chap," said Cannington, taking leave, and looking very spic and span in his uniform. "Tell me all about it in London." "Tell you what?" "I may not mention her name," he said, and winked solemnly. "Don't be an ass," I retorted, leaning down to whisper, "things are much more serious than you guess." "What? Have you learned anything about--" "Shut up! When I return from Burwain to town I may need your assistance." "Right oh," said Cannington, looking grave, for he saw I was in deadly earnest. "And don't tell anyone where I am going." "No. You're supposed to be on your way to London. But, I say----" "Oh, I can't stop to chatter. Hold your tongue and wait until I see you again, boy. Understand?" "Yes, that is----" He would have detained me for I had, very cruelly perhaps, raised his curiosity immensely. But I gave the steering-wheel a twist, and the machinery being in motion, glided away before he could ask further questions. I glanced back to see him shake his fist at me, and then spun rapidly through the gritty square of the Barracks, down the road, into the street, and finally emerged through a steep lane into the country proper. A long smooth Roman road without twists or turns lay before me, and as there was no policeman in sight I let the Rippler go up to her full speed of forty miles an hour. The motion somewhat relieved my mind, which was considerably worried. I wondered if I was held up for exceeding the speed limit, and if my second portmanteau was examined, what the police would say. I knew very well what they would do, that is, lodge me in the nearest jail as an accomplice of the lady in the white cloak. Fortunately the luck held, and I got through safely.