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AUL PRY had just finished breakfast when Colonel Fairbody arrived.

"Good morning, Colonel," said Paul cheerfully; "have you fed?"

"An hour ago," replied his friend. "Do you want to look into a queer case with me?"

"My dear Colonel," replied Paul, who was accustomed to the other's brusque manner, "you know I consider it a privilege when you allow me to share your confidence—"

"No soft soap," interrupted the Colonel, chuckling; "you've been damned useful to us more than once, as you know quite well. I owe you a good turn, or two. But if you're coming you'll have to hurry. I've got a car waiting. Tell your man to pack a small bag; we may have to stay a night or two."

Paul rang the bell, and in ten minutes the Colonel and he were driving rapidly through the streets.

Colonel Fairbody, the Assistant Commissioner in charge of the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard, knew Paul Pry as an eccentric young millionaire who devoted his time to the science of criminology. Why he had adopted the suggestive name of "Paul Pry" the Colonel—like his colleagues in the police forces of half a dozen other countries—would have been interested to learn, but that was a secret known only to Paul himself. The amateur had acquired the confidence of the professional, however, by the services he had rendered to the Yard on several occasions, and the Colonel had a sincere respect for the reasoning powers which had led Paul to the solution of certain singular problems in which they had both been engaged.

"Would it be indiscreet to inquire where we are going?" asked Paul, in his quiet way, as they began to leave the suburbs behind and to plunge into pleasant country lanes.

"Not at all; we are bound for a little place called Stonebridge, in Hertfordshire."