the services of a chauffeur, who knew the little car well, for a fortnight.
This deal, simple as it seemed, put the days of Mr. Michael Stone in this unhappy world at about twenty to thirty in number.
You see my plan?
Stone was to die; I was to remove the gold. Polly was to have what I thought safe and wise to leave.
The car turned out to be a little treasure, and in a week I could do anything with her in the way of driving. I dismissed the man; and for the future drove her myself.
I was now waiting.
Would the old man get ill, or had I to make him so?
He saved me the trouble.
Three weeks from the time I got the car I also got my opportunity.
About half-past eight in the morning of the day I mention, Polly sent me up a message, "Would I come at once?"
Would I come!
I sent word to her, "I would drive over as soon as I was dressed."
On arriving at the house, I left the car well inside the ramshackle old gate, and went right into the long, low sitting-room.
