and I settled myself down to read with a feeling of enjoyment that
would doubtless have gratified Lord Northcliffe had he been fortunate
enough to know about it.

"Neil Lyndon," it began, "whose daring escape from Princetown was
fully described in yesterday's _Daily Mail_, has so far successfully
baffled his pursuers. Not only is he still at liberty, but having
possessed himself of a bicycle and a change of clothes by means of an
amazingly audacious burglary, it is quite possible that he has managed
to get clear away from the immediate neighbourhood."

This opening paragraph was followed by a full and vivid description of
my raid on the bicycle house. It appeared that the machine which I
had borrowed was the property of a certain Major Hammond, who, when
interviewed by the representative of the _Mail_, expressed himself of
the opinion that I was a dangerous character and that I ought to be
recaptured without delay.

The narrative then shifted to my dramatic appearance on the bicycle,
as witnessed by the surprised eyes of Assistant-warder Marshfield.
According to that gentleman I had flashed past him at a terrific
speed, hurling a handful of gravel in his face, which had temporarily
blinded him. With amazing pluck and presence of mind he had recovered
himself in time to puncture my back wheel, a feat of marksmanship
which, as the _Daily Mail_ observed, was "highly creditable under the
circumstances."

From that point it seemed that all traces of me had ceased. Both I and
the bicycle had vanished into space as completely as Elijah and his
fiery chariot, and not all the united brains of Carmelite House