Winter laughed.

"It's all right," he said. "Suarez is in Holloway, awaiting extradition.
But I owed you one for the rise you took out of me to-day."

A bell sounded, and Peters came in. He glanced around.

"Where's Furneaux?" he demanded.

"Gone to London. Why this keen interest?" said Winter.

"There's something up. Elkin dropped in at the Hare and Hounds. He was
simply bursting with curiosity, and had to talk to somebody. So he
chose me."

"He would," was the dry comment.

"Fact, 'pon me honor. I didn't lead him on an inch. It seems that
Furneaux bought some prints which caught his eye in Elkin's house, and
Tomlin says that that hexplains hit."

"Explains what?"

"Furneaux's visit to Siddle, and certain bulky parcels brought in and
brought out again."

"Queer little duck, Furneaux," said Hart. "Now that my mind is at ease
about the immediate future of the biggest rascal in Venezuela I can take
an active part in Steynholme affairs once more. When it's all through
I'll make a novel of it, dashed if I don't, with the postmaster's