that he reopened his eyes and looked at her whimsically. Nature, in fact, had put forth a supreme effort; from that moment he recovered rapidly.
Winter took a calmly professional view of the younger man's collapse.
"There's nothing to worry about, Miss Forbes," he assured the agitated girl. "Our friend has just escaped being knocked insensible, if not killed. He was hardly prepared for such a vicious attack, I fancy. Most certainly that scoundrel took me by surprise, or he would not have slipped through my fingers like an eel. Next time, either Mr. Theydon or I may be trusted to balance matters."
Theydon grinned and nodded. He signaled with his eyes that Winter was to make Evelyn Forbes understand that she had just escaped being the victim of an extraordinary outrage. Muddled as his thoughts were, he grasped the essential fact that Scotland Yard was better posted in the secret history of the Innesmore Mansions crime than he had given the department credit for before the dramatic meeting with Furneaux that morning.
And, indeed, the chief inspector lost no time in justifying that belief.
"You must have imagined that the world had suddenly turned topsy-turvy," he said, smiling at the mystified and distraught Evelyn, as though the whirl of events outside the station were part and parcel of the humdrum routine of life. "When Mr. Theydon regains his speech he will tell us how he came to suspect that an attempt would be made to kidnap you today. In my own case, intervention was the outcome of sheer and simple logical deduction. You see, I represent the Criminal Investigation Department—or Scotland Yard, as it is familiarly described—and I have reason to believe that your father is, and has been for some time, the object of unpleasant attentions by a political society in China, whose members are nothing more nor less than criminal fanatics. Probably this is the first you have heard of the matter, Miss Forbes. Your father would wish, no doubt, to keep any such disquieting knowledge from you and your mother. But the policy of concealment must cease now. Today's daring attack is a warning. Other efforts may be forthcoming. If you are to be protected efficiently the police must have your loyal cooperation. I admit candidly that I myself, with all my experience, was taken off my guard a few minutes ago. If Mr. Theydon had not delayed that Chinaman—whose name he has got hold of from Mr. Forbes, I expect—I don't think I could have reached you in time."
"Is that the meaning of the little ivory skull which my father received at breakfast this morning?" said Evelyn, breathlessly.
Winter's eyes twinkled. No question could have thrown a more vivid light into the somber depths of a crime which promised to transcend in interest and importance any similar occurrence in Great Britain during the previous decade.
"Doubtless," he said. "Of course, I have not yet seen Mr. Forbes, but we have a mine of information here," and he laid a friendly hand on Theydon's arm. "So far as I am concerned, I have had your house unobtrusively watched—for the protection of the inmates, I hope you understand—and I arranged also that anything unusual in the shape of telegrams or telephonic messages"—here he glanced amusedly at Theydon—"should be communicated to the Yard. I heard, therefore, of Mrs. Forbes's sudden illness almost as soon as you did, and traveled with you to Eastbourne, intending to reach the hotel at the same time as you, and ascertain whether or not your mother was really ill. I saw you on the platform at Victoria and guessed your identity. But, in my profession, we never take anything for granted, so I left that matter until I could interview the hotel manager. And here we are. I advise you not to say a word about Mrs. Forbes being ill. If, as I firmly believe, you find that she is in the best of health, you can explain your sudden visit by saying that Mr. Theydon and I have something of importance to communicate, which will be perfectly accurate, as I mean to urge strongly that we all return to London by the next train."
The cab stopped. To show that "Richard was himself again" Theydon, nearest the door, opened it, got out, and helped Evelyn to alight.
Reassured on his account, the girl smiled, and a wave of color leaped to her cheeks. Any one happening to watch their arrival would put them down as ordinary visitors. Evelyn Forbes was just a charming young woman, plainly but expensively dressed; Theydon an attentive cavalier, and Winter a prosperous city man, probably with a taste for coursing and pheasant shooting.
Subtly observant, indeed, would be the theorist who gathered from their demeanor that they had just emerged practically unscathed from a situation rife with the elements of tragedy.
Nevertheless, Winter kept a sharp eye on Theydon after Evelyn Forbes had run up the steps of the hotel, and was relieved at seeing that he could walk without assistance.
"Keep nothing back," he said under his breath as they followed the girl with sedater pace. "These women must be frightened into complete obedience. Did Furneaux get hold of Forbes?"
Theydon nodded.
"That's right. Don't talk. I can pretty well guess what took place. But, look here. Who's Handyside—a mere acquaintance?"
Another nod.
"You just contrived to pick him up, and used him as an excuse for coming to Eastbourne? I see. That removes a troublesome pawn off the chessboard."
"But it doesn't," wheezed Theydon. "He ought to be here. Can't make out—what has become of him."
"He will turn up—an American, isn't he? I thought so. The indications were slight but certain—features, walk, figure. You can buy clothes, but the genuine citizen of God's own country is as distinct a type as a Highlander—all wool and a yard wide."
Inside the hotel they came on Evelyn Forbes talking to the manager. She hailed them at once.
"Mother has gone to Beachy Head," she cried. "She and her friends are expected home about six o'clock. Shall we have some tea? There is no use in following her. She will be starting back before we could get there."
"Mrs. Forbes is quite well, I hope?" put in Winter, casually.
"Yes, sir, in the best of health," said the manager, indicating, with a flourish of both hands, that nothing else was to be expected as to the condition of any among the numerous patrons of the Royal Devonshire Hotel.
Evelyn asked that tea should be served in her mother's sitting room. When they were screened by the closed door Winter examined Theydon's throat. Beyond a slight swelling and external soreness, the cricoid cartilage—known to the multitude as Adam's apple—was seemingly uninjured, while Theydon himself now made light of the blow, though a certain hoarseness was perceptible in his voice, and he deemed it advisable to speak in a low-pitched tone.
Evelyn Forbes listened with ill-repressed bewilderment while he related the day's doings. At first, she hardly grasped the significance of the story, but Winter's occasional questions and comments, and a parenthetical sentence or two introduced by Theydon for her benefit, quickly revealed the astounding nature of the plot of which her father was the chief object.
At this crisis she displayed a self-control and reticence which were admirable. She seemed to realize intuitively that any gaps in the recital could be filled in later, whereas it was all-important that the detective should be made acquainted as speedily as possible with the developments brought about by the morning's fuller disclosures.
As for Winter, he was keenly interested in Furneaux's behavior at the moment of Forbes's departure from Innesmore Mansions. Glancing at his watch, he rose when Theydon's revelations came to an end.
"I'll just go and ring up the Yard," he said. "There may be news. When Furneaux starts off in full cry it is a wary fox that escapes him. I only wish you and I had traveled from Victoria in company, Mr. Theydon; Wong Li Fu would now have been in custody. However, we'll get him. If, as I imagine, he is making for London in that car, there is even a chance of intercepting him in the suburbs. I'll see to it."
Left alone with Evelyn Forbes, Theydon suddenly grew tongue-tied. This man who could invent all manner of glib conversation for the characters in his novels now cudgeled his brains vainly for something to say that would dwell in her memory when they parted. And he knew why a cloud was thus effectually befogging his wits. He had only seen Evelyn three times in as many days, had spoken to her but twice, yet was hopelessly and irrevocably