“I am Colonel Black,” he said, and the first chauffeur touched his cap. “Take the straightest road to Southampton and let the second man follow behind.”
The car had not gone far before he changed his mind.
“Go first to the Junior Turf Club in Pall Mall,” he said.
Arrived at the club, he beckoned the porter.
“Tell Sir Isaac Tramber that he is wanted at once,” he directed.
Ikey was in the club—it was a chance shot of the colonel’s, but it bagged his man.
“Get your coat and hat,” said Black hurriedly to the flustered baronet.
“But—”
“No buts,” snarled the other savagely. “Get your coat and hat, unless you want to be hauled out of your club to the nearest police-station.”
Reluctantly Ikey went back to the club and returned in a few seconds struggling into his greatcoat.
“Now what the devil is this all about?” he demanded peevishly; then, as the light of a street lamp caught the colonel’s uncovered head, he gasped:
“Good Lord! Your hair has gone white! You look just like that fellow Essley!”
XVII
Justice
“Where are we going?” asked Sir Isaac faintly.
“We are going to Southampton,” growled Black in his ear. “We shall find some friends there.” He grinned in the darkness. Then, leaning forward, he gave instructions in a low tone to the chauffeur.
The car jerked forward and in a few minutes it had crossed Hammersmith Broadway and was speeding towards Barnes.
Scarcely had it cleared the traffic when a long grey racing car cut perilously across the crowded space, dodging with extraordinary agility a number of vehicles, and, unheeding the caustic comments of the drivers, it went on in the same direction as Black’s car had taken.
He had cleared Kingston and was on the Sandown road when he heard the loud purring of a car behind. He turned and looked, expecting to find his second car, but a punctured tyre held Black’s reserve on Putney Heath. Black was a little uneasy, though it was no unusual thing for cars to travel the main Portsmouth road at that hour of the night.
He knew, too, that he could not hope to keep ahead of his pursuer. He caught the unmistakable sound which accompanies the racing car in motion.
“We’ll wait till the road gets a little broader,” he said, “and then we’ll let that chap pass us.”
He conveyed the gist of this intention to the chauffeur.
The car behind showed no disposition to go ahead until Sandown and Cobham had been left behind and the lights of Guildford were almost in sight.
Then, on a lonely stretch of road, two miles from the town, the car, without any perceptible effort, shot level with them and then drew ahead on the off side. Then it slowed, and the touring car had perforce to follow its example.
Black watched the manoeuvre with some misgiving. Slower and slower went the racing car till it stopped crossways in the road; it stopped, too, in a position which made it impossible for the touring car to pass.
Black’s man drew up with a jerk.
They saw, by the light of their lamps, two men get out of the motor ahead and make what seemed to be a cursory examination of a wheel. Then one walked back, slowly and casually, till he came to where Black and his companion sat.
“Excuse me,” said the stranger. “I think I know you.”
Of a sudden an electric lamp flashed in Black’s face. More to the point, in the spreading rays of the light, clear to be seen was the nickel-plated barrel of a revolver, and it was pointed straight at Black.
“You will alight, Mr. Black—you and your companion,” said the unknown calmly.
In the bright light that flooded him, Black could make no move. Without a word he stepped down on to the roadway, his companion following him.
“Go ahead,” said the man with the revolver.
The two obeyed. Another flood of light met them. The driver of the first car was standing up, electric torch in one hand, revolver in the other. He directed them curtly to enter the tonneau. The first of their captors turned to give directions to the chauffeur of the grey touring car, then he sprang into the body in which they sat and took a seat opposite them.
“Put your hands on your knees,” he commanded, as his little lamp played over them.
Black brought his gloved hands forward reluctantly. Sir Isaac, half dead with fright, followed his example.
The car moved forward. Their warder, concentrating his lamp upon their knees, kept watch while his companion drove the car forward at a racing pace.
They struck off from the main road and took a narrow country lane which was unfamiliar to Black, and for ten minutes they twisted and turned in what seemed the heart of the country. Then they stopped.
“Get down,” ordered the man with the lamp.
Neither Black nor his friend had spoken one word up till now.
“What is the game?” asked Black.
“Get down,” commanded the other.
With a curse, the big man descended.
There were two other men waiting for them.
“I suppose this is the ‘Four Just Men’ farce,” said Black with a sneer.
“That you shall learn,” said one of those who were waiting.
They were conducted by a long, rough path through a field, through a little copse, until ahead of them in the night loomed a small building.
It was in darkness. It gave Black the impression of being a chapel. He had little time to take any note of its construction. He heard Sir Isaac’s quick breathing behind him and the snick of a lock. The hand that held his arm now relaxed.
“Stay where you are,” said a voice.
Black waited. There was growing in his heart a sickly fear of what all this signified.
“Step forward,” said a voice.
Black moved two steps forward and suddenly the big room in which he stood blazed with light. He raised his hand to protect his eyes from the dazzling glow.
The sight he saw was a remarkable
