miracles is over, and no motor can beat time for speed. Try as he might, it was just ten minutes after the hour had struck when Lennard brought the car up to a somewhat deserted-looking house at the rear of a disused landing stage to which they had been directed. Evidently Count Irma had had his plans all cut and dried before taking the final motor ride into the pleasant Thames Valley. It was not yet dusk, and even as they gazed up the expanse of the river they could distinguish a long electric launch making its way to the sea, and carrying with it the man they both loved, beyond hope, beyond redemption, beyond everything that made life worth living.
Mr. Narkom sucked in his breath helplessly, then switched round on his heel.
"The police launch, quick! Follow me, Miss Lorne. You stay here, Lennard, with the car. You may be needed. Come!" The Superintendent panted off, and a few minutes later he was telling as much as was necessary to the head of the River Police.
In the swiftest launch obtainable they took their places. There was a whirr, a shaking of the whole boat, then it swept out, on the race against time, as though it were a living thing, cognizant of the reason for its mad haste.
Mr. Narkom sat with clenched hands, breathing with great effort, until they again saw the trail of the escaping boat, when he gave a little shout.
"Faster, man! Faster! Don't let it escape! For God's sake overtake it!"
And overtake it they did. Heading the launch round so as to get directly in the way of the boat, the police officers hailed it, bidding it stop, in the name of the law. But there came no slackening of speed. The hunted boat was simply swerved aside, and sped on its course apparently undaunted.
"No use, Mr. Narkom, sir," said the police officer in charge. "There's only one thing — wireless. Stop her at the mouth of the Thames."
Darting down into a cabin, he closed the door, and a few minutes later Mr. Narkom knew that the chase was practically over. The launch would be overhauled by the police boats at the mouth of the river.
Summoning as much patience as it was possible, Mr. Narkom prepared for the wait, with Miss Lorne at his side.
The launch was still in sight when they came up at Gravesend, and from both sides of the shore there came a little fleet of boats. Seeing that escape was impossible, the boat slackened her speed, then came to a dead stop and Mr. Narkom, with the officer, made his way on board.
To his keen delight, he was greeted by Count Irma himself, who was highly indignant and demanded explanations for the chase and the outrage of being overhauled.
To Mr. Narkom's supreme dismay, a systematic search revealed not the slightest trace of the two they sought. From deck to cabin, from end to end, every corner of the boat was subjected to closest scrutiny, but in vain; there was no sign of Cleek or of Dollops, nor was there any suspicious sight or sound. Indeed, it began to look as if they had been led on a wild-goose chase. The Count, who accompanied them, his dark face now darker still with anger, looked triumphant as they once more entered the gloomy little cabin, while the perspiration stood out in great beads on Mr. Narkom's forehead. Ailsa Lorne's face was tense with disappointment as they turned to go up once more to the deck.
His eyes gleaming, Count Irma raised a lantern, and proceeded to show his unwelcome guests up the companion-way. As its light flashed round, it lit on a familiar object, the very sight of which sent the blood coursing back to Ailsa's heart, and caused her fingers to grip feverishly on Mr. Narkom's arm.
The sight was no less than Dollops's precious telescope. With superhuman self-control she succeeded in drawing the attention of the Superintendent to it, at the same time motioning him to be silent. The effect on Mr. Narkom was instantaneous. He stopped short, and sucked in his breath, for he, too, realized what its presence meant. But it took all his caution to prevent him crying aloud in his relief and jubilation.
As it was, he strode up the narrow steps with jaunty mien, and rejoining the River Police on deck, delivered his ultimatum to the Count, who awaited him impatiently.
"Well, Count, we've made our search," he said in imperturbable tones, "and everything is quite all right. Still, my orders are very strict, and since you are merely in a hurry to catch up with the packet boat, you will have no objection, I feel assured, to taking our police launch, which is able, as you are now aware, to go even faster than this. I will return in this one to London Bridge."
Count Irma's face grew livid with rage, and he resented this fresh proposal with all the language at his command.
But Mr. Narkom remained obdurate. The launch and its owner were subject to the commands of the English law. His own boat was at the Count's command; a hasty signal from one of the officers brought the launch alongside again.
The Count was evidently nonplussed, to say the least of it, but seeing no chance of escape, he finally accompanied the River Police into their launch, leaving the beaming Superintendent and Ailsa Lorne to make the return journey alone.
The other boat had been barely set in motion when Mr. Narkom turned and plunged down the stairs again. Once more with Ailsa they made a detour of the boat, calling aloud the names of both Dollops and Cleek. It was Ailsa again who came to the rescue. Pulling aside a tarpaulin thrown carelessly down at the extreme end of the boat, she saw a series of newly drilled holes, and it did not need the sight of the boards, barely joined together, to tell her what they concealed.
She gave a little cry which brought Mr. Narkom to her side at one swift jump, and the two proceeded to tear up the boards. A few seconds, and the fast-fading light in the summer sky revealed the bound and gagged figures of the two they had sought so arduously.
The journey back was one in which very little was spoken, after the few words of praise for Dollops, whose quick-wittedness and apparent defection had been so successful.
"I reckon we're quits, you young monkey," said Cleek, stretching out a hand to his young henchman.
"Not in this life, Guv'nor, Gawd bless yer for all yer've done for me," was the fervent reply, and, at the pressure of Cleek's hand on his, he grew very, very still.
It was quite dark when they disembarked at London Bridge, and having seen the launch in the care of the River Police, made their way to the limousine, where Lennard waited. He gave a little whoop of delight as his eyes fell on Cleek and Dollops.
But it was not until after Cleek had seen Ailsa safe at an hotel, and he himself was on his way with Mr. Narkom to the riverside cottage that he referred to the subject which lay uppermost in their minds.
Then with a curious smile looping up one side of his face, he said quietly:
"This is but the first throw of the dice, old friend. Do not mistake. I am at the Yard's service now and henceforth, but our journeyings together will be accompanied by the hate of Irma, as well as the vengeance of Margot. This is but the beginning; the end, who shall say?"
A silent grip of the hand was all that Mr. Narkom gave in answer, for he, too, was alive to the danger which must now dog their footsteps. He did not rest content, therefore, until he had seen Cleek and Dollops safe in the cottage which served them for a temporary home. Then he returned to town through the soft coolness of the summer night, but though Cleek was once more within the reach of the protecting arm of the law, the Superintendent's heart was heavy within him.
CHAPTER II.
