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"We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work,"

said the inspector. "They have been turning out half-crowns by

the thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading, but could

get no farther, for they had covered their traces in a way that

showed that they were very old hands. But now, thanks to this

lucky chance, I think that we have got them right enough."

But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not

destined to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into

Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed

up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and

hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape.

"A house on fire?" asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off

again on its way.

"Yes, sir!" said the station-master.

"When did it break out?"

"I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse,

and the whole place is in a blaze."

"Whose house is it?"

"Dr. Becher's."