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IT was with real curiosity he awaited the arrival of his letters the next morning. What was this strange document the dead man had sent to his sister? Was the whole thing a mare's nest, or could it be possible that by some strange fluke he had stumbled on something genuine?

He recognised the writing at once, and sitting down in a deserted corner of the smoking-room he opened the envelope. There was a short covering note that he glanced at first.

"Dear Mr. Maitland"—it ran:

I enclose the map. Am expecting you about twelve.

Yours sincerely,

Judy Draycott."

Then he turned his attention to the enclosure. It was as she had said a map, or rather half a map. Evidently the original had been cut in two, and the murdered man's idea was obvious. He had kept one half himself: the other he had sent to his sister.

The drawing was crude: the writing illiterate—just what might have been expected from an uneducated sailor.

It was clearly meant to represent part of an island: the word CLIFFS proved that. HILL was clear, but what A was struck him as doubtful: possibly a tree. CKS and OMP he gave up. The writing at the bottom was no assistance either. Presumably the first word was FROM, in which case the first line read—FROM THE HILL A LINE SOUTH.

He took out his pocket-book and studied the scrap of paper he had found the night before. From its shape and the position of the letters, it must be the bottom left-hand corner on the other half, and it seemed to him that WE might be the first half of west, so that he got—FROM THE HILL A LINE SOUTH WEST. RER LURKS AND TRESUR RICH was meaningless without the context. In fact the whole thing was useless without the other half. Whether it would prove of any value even with the other half was neither here nor there: without putting the two together no one could get any further.

He leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette: the main points of the situation were clear. Dresler and his friends had one half—save for the torn-off scrap in the corner: he had the other. But while he knew they had it, they were not in the same position over him. Which was where, as he had said to his cousin, he was five to four the better of them.

That they had intended to kill young Draycott he did not believe for a moment: if they wanted him out of the way it could be done more easily and far more safely by methods other than shooting him in a house in London. But it happened and they had had to make the best of it. They had acted promptly and cleverly: but for the amazing freak of fate which had caused him to meet Judy Draycott just before he heard the shot he would actually have been in the position in which they thought he was—an accidental passer-by who had heard a shot. And had it not been for the fact that the Dago apparently knew his reputation, much of last night's conversation would not have taken place. Dresler feared him because his name was Jim Maitland, with a reputation for looking for trouble, and not because he knew anything of this particular affair.

A new train of thought started. Did the other side know that half the map had been sent to Judy Draycott? Her remark to him over the telephone about her room having been tampered with while she was at dinner pointed to the fact that they did. It also pointed to the fact that they did not think the map was valueless. What proof they had, other than the dead man's word, he had no means of telling, but men like Emil Dresler do not embark on schemes unless they are sure of their facts. And if that was so, the point that arose was how was he to see the half that was in his? Or if possible to do more than see it, and actually get it? He would have not the slightest compunction in stealing it from them if he could—it was Judy Draycott's property, anyway: and then with the complete map in front of him he could use his own judgment as to whether the thing was worth while following up or not. But how to set about it was the problem. That it was a case for guile and not force was obvious, but beyond that main generalisation for the time being he could not get. And it was not until he had sat there for more than an hour that the glimmerings of a scheme began to dawn in his mind.

Once more he studied his half of the map intently, only it was not at the drawing he was looking but at the paper. And the question he was debating in his mind was whether it would be possible to obtain an exactly similar quality and brand in London. It was cheap white paper, with a faint watermark that looked like a crown in the corner, and it had been made in all probability in South America. Could an exact replica be found here? On that point depended the whole idea, which was this.

He could keep the Eastern and Western boundaries of the island exactly where they were: he would keep CKS and OMP in their proper positions; in fact he would alter nothing along the line of the scissor cut. But after that he would draw an entirely new map. The hill could be placed in a totally different place: also the thing marked A. And the wording at the bottom could be changed. As long as the two halves joined when put together, no suspicions would be aroused, provided always the paper matched exactly. And it thus might be possible to get a good look at the genuine other half, whilst only showing a fake of the one he held in his hand.

There were many details to fill in, but he felt instinctively he was working on the right lines. And the first thing to do was to find out about the paper. But before going out he decided to telephone Judy Draycott.

In view of the attention paid him by Dresler the preceding day, he would almost certainly be followed again. And at this stage of the proceedings it was vital to keep the other side in ignorance of the fact that they knew one another. It was too risky to go to her house: the point to be decided was where to meet her.

"Hullo! Jim, how's life?"

Percy had just come in, and Jim drew him on one side.

"I've got a job of work for you, young feller," he said. "I was just going to telephone, but you can take a message instead. It's safer. Go and see Miss Draycott, and tell her that I do not propose to come to her house this morning. Explain to her that for reasons which I'll give her later it would be most unwise for anyone to know that she and I have met, and that since I may be followed I don't want to go to Langham Square. And then, Percy, you will bring her to the ladies' entrance of the club here, and I will join you in due course."

"Right you are, old boy. Presumably no word about last night?"

"No word about anything—yet. And certainly no word about the brother, for she will almost certainly talk to you about him."

He gave his cousin some ten minutes' start before following him into the street. And then he seemed in no great hurry. He stood on the pavement, his stick swinging loosely in his hand apparently enjoying the air. But when Jim Maitland was apparently doing something the betting was largely in favour of the fact that in reality he was doing something else. And in the short space of time he remained there before hailing a taxi his lynx eye had picked up two men whose appearance he mistrusted. They were both loitering there a little too obviously.

He glanced backwards as the car turned into Pall Mall: they had got into another one and were following. And it occurred to him that there might be the possibility of a little fun. So leaning out of the window he told his driver to go slowly round St. James's Square until he told him to stop.

"Round and round," he remarked. "The air there is peculiarly beneficial."

Now, as all the world knows, there are five roads that lead out of St. James's Square, and it put the two gentlemen in a quandary. They dared not stop for fear their quarry would slip them by one of the five: at the same time when Jim had completed the circuit for the sixth time the situation became strained. And it became even more so when he stopped his machine and waved a genial hand at them.

"Good fun, isn't it?" he called out as their car went past him. "Are we going to continue, or are we not?"

The car pulled up and one of the men got out.

"Were you speaking to us?" he demanded.

"No, no, laddie. To the sparrow twittering in yonder tree."

"Cut it out," snarled the other with a quick look round, "or you'll find yourself with a thick ear, my boy."

Jim began to laugh silently.

"You rat-faced excrescence," he said pleasantly, "you couldn't give a thick ear to a baby in arms. But I warn you quite seriously that if you continue to follow me I'll give you in charge to the nearest policeman. Your face and that of your friend are enough to turn the milk sour.... Ah! would you?"

It happened quickly. Enraged by Jim's remarks the other had aimed a definite blow at his eyeglass. It failed to connect by at least a foot, but it was enough for Jim. And a moment later the man was standing helpless with his arm in a grip that felt like a steel vice.

"God! man," he muttered savagely, "you're breaking my elbow."

"No: merely bending it," Jim assured him. "And since you are in this position, I think I will call that policeman who has just entered the square.... Officer," he hailed.

But the other man was not waiting for any policeman. With a tremendous effort he wriggled free, and ran back to his car which at once drove rapidly away. And Jim was again laughing silently when the majesty of the law approached.

"Did you call, sir?" he said.

"A mistake, officer," he remarked. "My friend who has just left me wanted to know the way somewhere, but I think he's found it."

"Drove off pretty fast, sir."

"Yes," agreed Jim. "He did seem in a bit of a hurry, didn't he? Well, good morning, officer. Sorry to have troubled you."

"Where to, sir?" asked the driver, as the policeman moved on.

"Go to Hyman's in Little Portland Street," he answered. "It's a big paper shop."

"Ugly sort of customer that, sir," went on the driver with a grin.

"A damned fool," said Jim tersely. "I've seen some pretty inefficient efforts at following in my life, but that took the cake. Keep your eyes skinned in case we see them again, but I don't think we shall."

Which proved to be correct: there was no sign of the other car when he paid off his own. Nevertheless he proposed to take no chances, and when one of the assistants asked him what he required he insisted on going to a remote corner of the shop.

"Sorry to appear mysterious," he said with a smile, "but there's a bit of a jest on. And I don't want to be spotted."

He produced the map from his pocket-book.

"I want to know," he went on, "if you can match this paper exactly. Very nearly is no good. The likeness must be so good that when the two halves are side by side anyone looking at them would say they were originally the same bit that had been cut in two."

The assistant took it in his hand and examined it minutely.

"There oughtn't to be much difficulty in that, sir," he pronounced at length. "I'll get a book of samples."

They found what was wanted almost at once—a paper that was literally identical with the original, and Jim ordered half a dozen pieces. Then he started to stroll back towards his club. So far, so good: unfortunately it was not very far. The main part of the problem had still to be solved. To draw a faked substitute was now an easy matter, but how was he going to utilise it to the best advantage when he had done so?

If it could possibly be avoided he did not want the other side to find out that he knew anything about the map. At the same time his whole scheme depended on the fact that the other half of the map should be seen. It was useless merely getting the fake to them by some method: that would give only a negative result to each side. He turned it over from every angle and at length the only possible way out occurred to him. It might fail, but he would have to take the risk. Judy Draycott was the person who must do it.

Whether Dresler and his bunch knew that half had been sent to her or not didn't matter. It would arouse no suspicions in their minds when they found she had it in her possession. And so, somehow or other, she would have to contrive to see the other piece for long enough to memorise it roughly. Presumably it would be as simple and crude as the half he had, and given a minute or so to study it in, she should be able to reproduce it sufficiently accurately for them to have something to go on.

One weak point lay in the fact that they might not let her see the other part. Another was the difficulty of her approaching them, so to speak, out of the blue. Why should she know anything about them at all? He did not even know if she and Barnet were acquaintances. Still those were minor difficulties: he was satisfied that the main idea was right. Judy Draycott was the only person who could do it, without giving things away. And if she did pull it off, and obtained a reasonable mental picture of the other half they would be in the pleasant position of having the truth, whilst the opponents possessed the map of an island, a large portion of which was completely imaginary. At which point in his reflections he turned into his club to find his cousin waiting for him with a worried look on his face.

"She's gone, Jim," he said briefly.

"Come on into the smoking-room," remarked Jim. "Now, then," he continued, after they had found two chairs, "what's this? You say she's gone. Where to?"

"Can't tell you, old lad," answered the other. "The house belongs to an ancient gorgon—Lady Somebody or other, with whom Judy is staying. Well, I blew in and asked for the girl, but the butler pushed me into the presence of the most devastating old ruin you've ever imagined. Shook me badly, laddie, I don't mind admitting."

"'Are you Mr. Maitland?' she boomed.

"I admitted the soft impeachment, and she inspected me through lorgnettes.

"'I confess I do not understand present-day mentality,' she went on, 'but Judy's brain must have left her temporarily. She said you were very good-looking and had a magnificent figure.'

"Well, I thought she might have put it a little differently, but the family spirit pulled me through.

"'That's where you scratch the wrong bite,' I said breezily. 'She alluded to my cousin who, I have been told, does bear a slight resemblance to me. He belongs to one of the cadet branches of our family.'"

"You blithering idiot," Jim grinned. "Get on with it."

"Apparently I'd said the wrong thing," continued Percy. "She sat there for quite a while with her mouth opening and shutting, and no noise occurred. I thought she'd slipped her uppers and was wondering what the devil to do if they zoomed into the hearth-rug, when she suddenly gave a harsh, croaking sound which turned after a while into semi-articulate speech.

"'Scratch! Wrong bite! You wretched young man—how dare you?'

"Well, I managed to pacify her: assured her it was a bit of modern slang, and at length, thank God! her breathing became normal again, and the deep magenta look left her face.

"'Now,' I said chattily, 'what about our little Judy? We both, I expect, have to do this and that before worrying the mid-day bone.'

"And little by little I extracted the account of the morning's doings. It appears Judy was giving the once over to the matutinal kipper by herself in the dining-room, when a woman called to see her. She couldn't tell me what sort of a woman as she herself does not shatter the morale of the house by appearing at breakfast. At any rate this woman had brought Judy a message from her brother."

"What's that?" cried Jim sitting up. "Her brother?"

"Just how I felt, old lad, when she said it," remarked Percy.

"You didn't give anything away, did you?"

"My face remained completely sphinx-like," said his cousin. "To continue. The result of the message was that Judy departed with this female, leaving a message for you to the effect that your proposed party at noon would have to be off."

"Did she say where she was going?" demanded Jim.

"Apparently not. At any rate not to the old trout. And I didn't quite like to ask to see her maid."

"And she said nothing as to when she intended to return?"

"Not a word. So having bowed to the Presence I left the house."

He lit a cigarette, and gave an order to a passing waiter for the necessary.

"So bringing the grey matter to work, Jim," he continued, "one thing becomes obvious. Either you made a mistake, or it is a trap."

"Exactly," agreed his cousin. "And since I did not make a mistake..."

He left the sentence uncompleted: how would this development affect his plan? That they contemplated doing any harm to the girl he dismissed from his mind: no possible object could be served by hurting her. Their object clearly was to get possession of her half of the map, and it therefore proved that they knew she had it. It further proved that they did not know she had sent it to him. But how long would they remain in ignorance of that fact? How long would it be before she told him?

He frowned thoughtfully: another point had struck him. What were they going to do about the brother? The girl having been lured away by what she took to be a message from him would naturally expect to see him. Moreover, she would become very suspicious if she did not. And as they could not show her his dead body with a bullet hole through the heart it became a little difficult to see what they were going to do.

He crossed to one of the writing-tables: the sooner he prepared the faked map the better. Things might eventuate at any moment, and he wanted to be prepared. For a while he again studied the map carefully: then he took one of the sheets of paper he had bought and picked up an indelible pencil.

"That ought to do the trick," he muttered to himself ten minutes later. He put the genuine one in an envelope, and sent it with a covering letter to his lawyer: the fake he put in his pocket-book. Then picking up an illustrated paper he threw himself into an armchair. There was nothing he could do but wait.

Just before lunch Percy returned from what he described as a cocktail date with a hen, and demanded the latest bulletin.

"That's deuced bright of you, Jim," said his cousin admiringly when he had explained his idea. "But now that Judy has actually gone to them it's going to make things a bit harder."

"You're right," agreed Jim. "We can only wait and see what happens. And since they haven't got what they wanted, something is bound to happen soon. She may tell 'em she sent the map to me: she may not. And until we know that, we're left guessing."

"They won't do her any harm, will they?"

"No," said Jim positively. "They'll guard her as the apple of their eye until they get the map And before they do that we step into the picture."

They lunched, and then began an interminable afternoon. Jim did not dare to get out of reach of the telephone: Percy refused to run any risk of missing the fun. And so, sternly dismissing from their minds the fact that Patsy Hendren had been sixty not out at the luncheon interval, they dozed.

The message came through just after five o'clock. A page roused them from their slumbers: Mr. Maitland was wanted on the telephone.

"You go, Percy," said Jim. "If it is Miss Draycott find out where she is speaking from. If it sounds at all risky do the silly-ass stunt. But if she is in London get her round to the ladies' side here, the same as we arranged for lunch."

"Right ho! laddie," cried the other. "You leave it to me."

He came back almost immediately.

"Speaking from Langham Square," he said. "She's coming at once. And, Jim, unless I'm much mistaken, there have been doings. Her voice was rather like that of an agitated hen."

"Good!" cried Jim. "The sooner we get to it the better."

"Do you want me to attend the pow-wow?" asked his cousin.

Jim nodded.

"But say nothing, at any rate at present, about her brother!"

Judy Draycott was as good as her word: she came at once. And it struck Jim as he shook hands that she was even more attractive than he had thought at first. But there was a look of tense anxiety about her that brought him back to business at once.

"What is the trouble, Miss Draycott?" he said as they sat down.

"Mr. Maitland," she answered earnestly, "there's some devilry going on. I'm just worried to death."

"I don't expect it's quite as bad as that," he said with a smile. "Young Percy and I have been having a lot of fun over your affairs too."

"What do you mean?" she said in amazement.

"You shall hear in good time, Miss Draycott," he answered. "Let's get to your doings first. All that we know is that a female of sorts called on you at breakfast this morning, bringing a message from your brother, and you went away with her."

"She had a car waiting outside," began the girl—"and I got in without hesitation. All that she had said in the house was that Arthur wanted me to come, and to bring with me the letter he had sent to my bank. That, of course, I couldn't do without coming round and getting it from you."

"Which you'd have had considerable difficulty in doing," put in Jim quietly. "Did you mention you'd sent it to me?"

"I did not. And really I can't think why I didn't—then. Because at the time I had no suspicions. I did think it a little strange that Arthur should have sent a woman as a messenger, but I was so keen to see him that I didn't bother about it much. I just dashed upstairs, told my aunt, and started off. It was a closed car, and a chauffeur in livery was driving. And after a while it began to strike me that my companion was very uncommunicative. Every question I put to her she answered in monosyllables. So at last I tackled her point blank."

"'Is there anything the matter with my brother?'"

"She tried to evade it for a bit, but I insisted. And to my horror I found he had been involved in a bad accident."

The eyes of the two men met, but the girl was too intent on her story to notice.

"He was in a nursing home, and his eyes had been affected. It was a motor accident, and his face had been badly cut about."

"'Who is looking after him?' I demanded."

"A Doctor Phillips, she told me, was in charge. I asked where the house was. It was on the outskirts of Mayfield in Sussex."

"'But what on earth was he doing motoring down there,' I cried in amazement, and she shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea why he had been there: all she could tell me was that the crash had occurred about half a mile from their lodge gates and some workmen had carried him in.

"We arrived at half-past eleven, and when I saw the house my heart sank. It was the most gloomy, depressing spot: anything less suited for a nursing home it would be impossible to imagine. And I think it was as we drove up to the door that suspicion first started in my mind. I caught the woman's eyes fixed on me, and though she immediately glanced away, there had been a funny look in them. And it was then, as I say, that I first began to wonder if all was well.

"The door was opened by a man-servant, and as I stepped into the hall suspicion increased. The place was furnished after a fashion but there was a sort of musty smell about everything that you only get in a house that has been empty for some time. However, I said nothing, of course, and a moment later a man came down the stairs.

"'This is Doctor Phillips,' said my companion.

"He shook hands, and led the way into one of the downstair rooms.

"'An unfortunate home-coming for your brother!' he said. 'Our matron has told you, I suppose?'

"'She tells me that Arthur has been badly damaged in a motor accident,' I answered. 'And I should like to see him at once, please.'

"He held up his hand.

"'One moment, my dear young lady,' he remarked—and if there's one thing that drives me to drink it's being called that—'we must have a little chat first. To begin with, your brother is in a very excitable condition just at present—a condition which in view of the injuries to his face and eyes...'

"'Eyes!' I cried.

"'Didn't the matron mention that? Yes: I am sorry to say his eyes are involved. It is for that reason that we are keeping him in a dark room. But do not alarm yourself. With care and good nursing I feel confident he will retain his sight unimpaired, if—and this is very important, if—we can keep him calm. Any mental excitement is the worst possible thing for him. Now I naturally have no idea what he is talking about, but the very first moment he began to speak coherently last night he kept asking about some letter he had sent you. He must have it: he must have it at once. In vain for me to point out to the dear fellow that he couldn't read it: that it was safe with you until he had recovered. It was no use. And so I entrusted the matron when she came to get you to be sure and mention it, so that you could bring it. It will pacify him enormously. You have it, of course?'

"And it was then, Mr. Maitland, I did some pretty rapid thinking. I was as convinced as I could be that there was something wrong. I knew that house was no nursing home, and I felt pretty well certain the man talking to me was no doctor. He was too suave and oily. Besides, genuine doctors don't allude to a complete stranger as a dear fellow. But what was I to do? I hadn't got it, and what was going to be the result when I told him so? I was convinced that it was the letter this man was after, and if he found out it wasn't there, he would pull more of his medical jargon out, tell me it would excite Arthur too much if I saw him without the letter, and insist that I should go back to London and get it before I could visit him. And I was determined that that should not happen. I was determined that by hook or by crook I would talk to Arthur before I left the house.

"It's taken a long time to describe what I felt: it actually took a second to decide.

"'Naturally,' I said. 'I'll hand it to him myself.'"

"Well done," remarked Jim quietly. "How did he take that?"

"Not very enthusiastically," she answered, "which merely increased my determination to see Arthur. But short of snatching my bag from me by force he could do nothing, and at last with a very bad grace he rose and left the room mumbling about seeing if Arthur was ready.

"The instant the door was shut I flew to it and listened: he and the woman were having an argument in the hall outside. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it sounded distinctly acrimonious. And again my suspicions increased: I knew the show was crooked.

"The man came back in about five minutes, accompanied this time by the woman. He seemed to have recovered himself, and his smile was more oily than ever.

"'This way, my dear young lady,' he said. 'And you will remember, won't you, that you may find your brother a little strange. The vocal chords—everything has been affected.'

"We went upstairs, and my heart began to thump. Mr. Maitland—the house was empty. No sign of movement: no nurses: nothing at all that you always see in a nursing home. And he seemed to sense what I was feeling.

"'Very slack time just now,' he remarked. 'Which will enable me to give all the more care to your brother.'

"He flung open a door: the room beyond it was pitch dark.

"'Ah! my dear fellow,' he cried, 'good news for you—joyous news. Your charming sister has arrived.'

"I could see a man dimly in the darkness, whose face was covered with bandages.

"'Arthur, old boy,' I cried, 'what rotten luck.'

"'Hullo! Judy,' he said querulously, 'how are you? Have you got the letter? Have you brought it?'"

The girl paused for a moment, and neither man spoke.

"How I didn't scream," she went on, "I don't know. I'd suspected a lot before, but never this. The man with the bandaged face wasn't Arthur at all. It was just conceivable that the voice might have passed muster, but Arthur has never called me Judy."

"'Humour him, please,' whispered the doctor to me, and then turned to the man. 'All right, my dear chap, your sister has got it. She's just going to give it to you.'

"'The letter. I want the letter, Judy.'

"My hands were trembling so much I could hardly open my bag. But one thing I realised—whatever happened I mustn't let them suspect that I knew it wasn't Arthur.

"'Here it is, old boy,' I said, and then turned horror-struck to the doctor. 'Good heavens! Doctor Phillips,' I whispered. 'I forgot to put it in.'

"And just for a moment I thought he was going to murder me.

"'Forgot to put it in?' he snarled, and I saw the woman nudge him in the ribs. He pulled himself together.

"'Forgive me, Miss Draycott,' he said, 'but a shock like that to my patient is very dangerous indeed.'

"He turned back into the room.

"'Now, old fellow,' he said, 'your sister, naughty girl, was so overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you again that she forgot to bring the letter. Don't let it worry you: don't let it excite you: I know she will go back to London at once and get it. Won't you, Miss Draycott?'

"'Of course I will, Arthur,' I said. 'I'm sorry I was so stupid.'

"'Yes, get it, Judy, at once,' he answered. 'It's important.'

"And then the so-called doctor hustled me out of the room and down the stairs.

"'A most unfortunate mistake, Miss Draycott,' he said gravely. 'Had I suspected for a moment that you had not got the letter in your possession, nothing would have induced me to allow you to see your brother. We can only hope that the effect will not be serious. But I must beg of you to remedy it as quickly as possible. The car is there. Fly back to London in it, and return as soon as you can. As you see for yourself, he is in a most excitable condition, and he must not be worried in any way.'

"So I started off alone in the car, and then came a real stroke of luck. The car broke down, and so I got rid of the chauffeur and came back by train. And now, Mr. Maitland, what I want to know is why they are keeping a man who isn't my brother in a nursing home that isn't a nursing home? And where is Arthur? And what does it all mean?"

For a moment or two Jim hesitated. He realised that the time had come when she would have to be told the truth about her brother, and he did not exactly relish the prospect.

"It's pretty clear, I'm afraid, Miss Draycott," he said gravely. "You realise, don't you, that your brother sent you half the map and kept the other half himself? He did it for safety, in case anything happened to him. And I'm very sorry to have to tell you that something has happened to him."

"You mean he's hurt?" she whispered.

"Worse than that, I fear. Miss Draycott, it's going to be the devil of a shock; but your brother is dead."

She gave a little cry, and the two men rose and stood with their backs to her staring out of the window. And for a space there was silence in the room.

"Do you mean he was killed?" she asked at length, and Jim nodded.

"How do you know all this, Mr. Maitland?" she continued steadily.

Briefly he told her the whole story. And when he had finished her eyes were bright and defiant: of the tears he had expected there was no trace.

"Just tell me what you want me to do," she said, and Jim looked at her approvingly.

"Great girl," he cried. "I knew you'd feel that way. Now this is how the land lies. The gang we are up against have in their possession the half of the map that your brother carried. What they are trying to get is the half he sent to your bank, and which you sent on to me. Evidently he must have told them what he had done: hence this elaborate scheme of to-day. And I think you can be extremely thankful, Miss Draycott, that you kept your head when you realised the man with his face bandaged was an impostor. Our opponents are not people who stick at trifles. Had you given yourself away then, I am more than doubtful if you'd be here now. However, that is by the way. You bluffed it through magnificently, and I want you to carry on the good work."

"I'll do anything you say," she said, and once again he gave her a quick look of admiration.

"You may remember I rather laughed at you when you first told me the hidden treasure story," he went on. "I'm not laughing now at all: I honestly believe there may be something in it. And if that is so you see where we stand: we must get their half. That is where you come in—if you feel like it."

"Of course I feel like it!" she cried.

"You know," he said doubtfully, "I must make it clear that if you care to you can go to the police and tell them what has happened to you."

"What will occur if I do?"

"I should think you would find that the birds have flown," said Jim. "And in addition to that we shall have given ourselves away to the other side. It will be a case of stalemate: each side will have one half of the map. And I want..."

He broke off and lit a cigarette.

"So do I, Mr. Maitland. Let's wash out the police."

Jim grinned.

"Good for you. We'll wash out the police as you say. Now I don't suppose for a moment we'll be able to get their half, but with a little diplomacy we might get a good look at it. Perhaps even..."

He paused, and a sudden gleam of ecstatic joy came into his eyes, a gleam that many men had seen to their cost.

"However, that's my palaver," he continued. "Now I'm gambling on one fact. They expect you to go back there to-night—and you're going. Percy is going to drive you down. And you will take with you—this."

He gave her the faked map, and she stared at it.

"But this is different to what I sent you," she said.

"Very different," he agreed. "I drew it myself. The genuine one is at my lawyers. But that one joins on to the other half. Which brings me up to the point I'm gambling on. They are not the sort of gentlemen who leave anything to chance, and I'm banking on them having their half there, to make sure on the spot, that you haven't sold them a pup."

"So that I can get a look at it," she cried. "I see: I'll do it."

"Supposing it doesn't come off we are no worse off than we were before. Leave them that: it's useless to them. They've got an island inspired by my second pink gin. We shall just have to try something else."

"But where do you come in, old lad?" demanded Percy.

"I don't," said Jim happily. "I shall remain outside the nursing home. Unless—I see an opportunity of entering with advantage. In which case I shall enter, and you, Miss Draycott, will exit. So should you hear two short blasts on Percy's klaxon, hop it like blazes in the car and leave me to my own sweet devices."