the flowering hedges, burying themselves in the limousine's front tire with remarkably good aim. And before so much as a word of warning could be uttered, the car itself was surrounded by a crowd of dark, swarthy men, muttering and talking among themselves in some strange, outlandish language which Mr. Narkom rightly assumed to be the Maurevanian native tongue. Hearing this, he spun upon his heel, and with a great fear in his heart went pelting back to the limousine, and thrust his head inside the open window.
"Cleek," he said swiftly, with a little tremor in his tones. "Save yourself, for God's sake!"
But too late. For even as he spoke a couple of men bore down upon him, seized him ruthlessly about his ample waist line, and slung ropes around him, binding him close.
He cursed, he spluttered, he fought bravely and well, hitting out with his fists as they swarmed about him. But the numbers were too unequal. He succumbed, and even as he fell his eyes saw Lennard bound and gagged also, and his heart went out to Cleek in an agony of misgiving.
Yes, there he was! Cleek! Cleek, his pal, his friend, the person he loved best in all the world. They had thrown a cloth over his head, and were bearing him toward the other car, which, for some reason, seemed now to be in perfect working order. The whole miserable plot lay bared before the Superintendent's eyes. He twisted over on his side, and choked uncomfortably. There were tears in his eyes, so that he could barely distinguish the figures that kept passing to and fro in front of him.
At last they were all gone, babbling and laughing triumphantly as the car sped off in the direction of London.
"God!" cried the Superintendent mentally, in a very anguish of soul. "Take care of him! Take care of Cleek, for if he is hurt, I swear he shall be avenged!"
The purr of the car dropped off into the distance, and a silence followed. The sun was scorchingly hot; the Superintendent's forehead streamed with perspiration; every second seemed an hour. Then, as if from some spot quite near him, came a sound that nearly caused his heart to stop beating. It was impossible! Incredible! Just the murmur of a soft laugh, and before he could so much as lurch his heavy weight over in the direction from which it had come, Cleek, Cleek himself, by the powers! stepped out from the limousine, and came toward him, smiling.
"Well played, well played!" said he softly, as he whipped out a pocket-knife, and cut the Superintendent's bonds. "It was a close enough shave, though! I suspected as much. It was a shame to give you such a bad quarter of an hour, dear friend, but there was no other way."
"Cleek, you're safe! Oh, thank God, thank God!"
The Superintendent's voice broke and was silent; he staggered to his feet, and clutched Cleek's hand as a drowning man might clutch at a floating spar; his heart was in his eyes. He drew a shaking hand across them.
"Come," said he, "let's get Lennard free, too. It's too hot a day to enjoy such close captivity. Then we must get on as quickly as possible. There's none hurt, thank fortune!"
"No, none hurt, as you say, and that's something to be thankful for, in all conscience," said Cleek, as having freed Lennard, he drew Narkom's hand in his arm and walked over to the limousine. "But I think I've done for 'em this time, anyway. They were as much taken in with Master Dollops as you were. But the boy's safe enough. He'll take care of himself. When those devils find oat who it is, they'll start hot-foot on my trail again, and run straight into Hammond and Petrie and a posse of others. I rang up the Yard, dear friend, after I had rung up you. I suspected a trick, and I knew the kind I was dealing with. But it was warm under that seat, I can tell you! What's that, Lennard? Got the tires on already? Bully boy! Bully boy!" He sprang into the limousine, followed by a puffing, breathless, somewhat incoherent Mr. Narkom. Then, with a bound like a mad thing, the car plunged forward, and proceeded upon its journey without further mishap.
But there was no sign of Ailsa Lorne when they reached the cottage, and Cleek's heart sank within him when Mrs. Condiment related how her young mistress had gone off "in a grand motor, with a splendid gentleman, with medals all over him, sir, just like my friend, the sergeant."
"Count Irma himself!" rapped out Cleek in answer to this. "He's tricked her somehow. I might have guessed they would hit at me through her." He turned on his heel, and crossed over to the latticed window, looking out with anguished eyes. A minute passed in silence, then a tapping sound attracted his attention. There was a pigeon outside the casement window. He threw open the window with a cry of delight.
"It's a message, a message from her dear self!" he cried, as he pounced upon the bird and whipped a tiny fold of paper tied with yellow silk from its leg. "It's from Ailsa, Mr. Narkom, from Ailsa! Listen!" The words "imprisoned — Sir Lionel Calmount — safe," he read; then looked up into the Superintendent's face with thankful eyes.
But the Superintendent was not so grateful. "Yes, but where is that?" he bleated despairingly, scanning the paper eagerly.
"Wait!" rapped out Cleek. "Calmount, Calmount," he gave a little yap of pleasure, like a terrier that has just seen a rat — "Calmount! Lionel Calmount, Irma's English chum! I've heard of him often; one of the old school — noblesse oblige, and all that sort of thing. And as for letting a poor devil of a monarch marry anything but a princess of the Royal blood — oh, dear, no! Yes, our friend Count Irma knew his man when he sought Calmount's help. But we'll be even with the lot yet. He's got a place in Hampshire, Calmount Castle, I think; that will be it, or else the pigeon couldn't have done the journey." He rushed over to the bookcase. "Here's a road map. Come, let's see! I don't doubt that Lennard will do it all right."
And Lennard did "do it," for in a few minutes the limousine was once more upon its way, with Cleek and Mr. Narkom seated inside it, and the road map in Cleek's hands. Now and again he gave hasty instructions to Lennard through the tube, watching with eager eyes how the distances fell away.
The Superintendent laid a hand upon his arm. "I say, dear chap," said he doubtfully, "but isn't it a bit risky putting your head into the lion's mouth like this, eh?"
"I'd risk fifty lives for her dear sake!" snapped out Cleek sharply, his eyes upon the fleeting vista of fields that swept by the window, "but it's all right, Mr. Narkom. Down with the blinds, and switch on the electrics, and we'll see what Lieutenant Arthur Deland from the Embassy can do with the matter. That'll be best, I think."
Mr. Narkom thought so, too, and said so. For the next half hour the two men worked feverishly, and so it was that Lieutenant Arthur Deland stepped out upon the stage, and found himself playing as strange a part in the drama of existence as had ever fallen to his lot.
CHAPTER III.
IT WAS exactly five o'clock in the afternoon, and the sun was beginning to think of retiring from business, when a dusty, travel-stained limousine drew up at the lodge gates of Calmount Castle like a snorting, puffing horse, and demanded entrance.
"Who are you and what do you want?" demanded the shambling old gatekeeper, in a cracked voice.
"We want Sir Lionel Calmount," threw in Mr. Narkom excitedly. "Open the gates, my good fellow, as quickly as you can. The matter is urgent, cannot be delayed." But the "good fellow" was in no great hurry to accede to this demand. He hemmed and hawed for some moments, scratching his thatch of white hair with a horny hand, so that Cleek felt, in the unnecessary delay, a strong desire to leap out and shake the sense into him. But at sight of the flash of gold in Mr. Narkom's palm his actions quickened. The transferring of that same gold piece to his hand caused immediate obedience, and
