ht；　and　his　front　wheel　began　an　apparently　incurable　squeaking。　He　felt　as　a　man　from　Mars　would　feel　if　he　were　suddenly　transferred　to　this　planet；　about　three　times　as　heavy　as　he　was　wont　to　feel。　The　two　little　black　figures　had　vanished　over　the　forehead　of　the　hill。　〃The　tracks'll　be　all　right；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver。
  That　was　a　comforting　reflection。　It　not　only　justified　a　slow　progress　up　the　hill；　but　at　the　crest　a　sprawl　on　the　turf　beside　the　road；　to　contemplate　the　Weald　from　the　south。　In　a　matter　of　two　days　he　had　crossed　that　spacious　valley；　with　its　frozen　surge　of　green　hills；　its　little　villages　and　townships　here　and　there；　its　copses　and　cornfields；　its　ponds　and　streams　like　jewelery　of　diamonds　and　silver　glittering　in　the　sun。　The　North　Downs　were　hidden；　far　away　beyond　the　Wealden　Heights。　Down　below　was　the　little　village　of　Cocking；　and　half…way　up　the　hill；　a　mile　perhaps　to　the　right；　hung　a　flock　of　sheep　grazing　together。　Overhead　an　anxious　peewit　circled　against　the　blue；　and　every　now　and　then　emitted　its　feeble　cry。　Up　here　the　heat　was　tempered　by　a　pleasant　breeze。　Mr。　Hoopdriver　was　possessed　by　unreasonable　contentment；　he　lit　himself　a　cigarette　and　lounged　more　comfortably。　Surely　the　Sussex　ale　is　made　of　the　waters　of　Lethe；　of　poppies　and　pleasant　dreams。　Drowsiness　coiled　insidiously　about　him。
  He　awoke　with　a　guilty　start；　to　find　himself　sprawling　prone　on　the　turf　with　his　cap　over　one　eye。　He　sat　up；　rubbed　his　eyes；　and　realised　that　he　had　slept。　His　head　was　still　a　trifle　heavy。　And　the　chase？　He　jumped　to　his　feet　and　stooped　to　pick。　up　his　overturned　machine。　He　whipped　out　his　watch　and　saw　that　it　was　past　two　o'clock。　〃Lord　love　us；　fancy　that！But　the　tracks'll　be　all　right；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　wheeling　his　machine　back　to　the　chalky　road。　〃I　must　scorch　till　I　overtake　them。〃
  He　mounted　and　rode　as　rapidly　as　the　heat　and　a　lingering　lassitude　permitted。　Now　and　then　he　had　to　dismount　to　examine　the　surface　where　the　road　forked。　He　enjoyed　that　rather。　〃Trackin'；〃　he　said　aloud；　and　decided　in　the　privacy　of　his　own　mind　that　he　had　a　wonderful　instinct　for　'spoor。'　So　he　came　past　Goodwood　station　and　Lavant；　and　approached　Chichester　towards　four　o'clock。　And　then　came　a　terrible　thing。　In　places　the　road　became　hard；　in　places　were　the　crowded　indentations　of　a　recent　flock　of　sheep；　and　at　last　in　the　throat　of　the　town　cobbles　and　the　stony　streets　branching　east；　west；　north；　and　south；　at　a　stone　cross　under　the　shadow　of　the　cathedral　the　tracks　vanished。　〃O　Cricky！〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　dismounting　in　dismay　and　standing　agape。　〃Dropped　anything？〃　said　an　inhabitant　at　the　kerb。　〃Yes；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　〃I've　lost　the　spoor；〃　and　walked　upon　his　way；　leaving　the　inhabitant　marvelling　what　part　of　a　bicycle　a　spoor　might　be。　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　abandoning　tracking；　began　asking　people　if　they　had　seen　a　Young　Lady　in　Grey　on　a　bicycle。　Six　casual　people　hadn't；　and　he　began　to　feel　the　inquiry　was　conspicuous；　and　desisted。　But　what　was　to　be　done？
  Hoopdriver　was　hot；　tired；　and　hungry；　and　full　of　the　first　gnawings　of　a　monstrous　remorse。　He　decided　to　get　himself　some　tea　and　meat；　and　in　the　Royal　George　he　meditated　over　the　business　in　a　melancholy　frame　enough。　They　had　passed　out　of　his　worldvanished；　and　all　his　wonderful　dreams　of　some　vague；　crucial　interference　collapsed　like　a　castle　of　cards。　What　a　fool　he　had　been　not　to　stick　to　them　like　a　leech！　He　might　have　thought！　But　there！what　WAS　the　good　of　that　sort　of　thing　now？　He　thought　of　her　tears；　of　her　helplessness；　of　the　bearing　of　the　other　man　in　brown；　and　his　wrath　and　disappointment　surged　higher。　〃What　CAN　I　do？〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver　aloud；　bringing　his　fist　down　beside　the　teapot。
  What　would　Sherlock　Holmes　have　done？　Perhaps；　after　all；　there　might　be　such　things　as　clues　in　the　world；　albeit　the　age　of　miracles　was　past。　But　to　look　for　a　clue　in　this　intricate　network　of　cobbled　streets；　to　examine　every　muddy　interstice！　There　was　a　chance　by　looking　about　and　inquiry　at　the　various　inns。　Upon　that　he　began。　But　of　course　they　might　have　ridden　straight　through　and　scarcely　a　soul　have　marked　them。　And　then　came　a　positivelybrilliant　idea。　〃'Ow　many　ways　are　there　out　of　Chichester？〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver。　It　was　really　equal　to　Sherlock　Holmesthat。〃　If　they've　made　tracks；　I　shall　find　those　tracks。　If　notthey're　in　the　town。〃　He　was　then　in　East　Street；　and　he　started　at　once　to　make　the　circuit　of　the　place；　discovering　incidentally　that　Chichester　is　a　walled　city。　In　passing；　he　made　inquiries　at　the　Black　Swan；　the　Crown；　and　the　Red　Lion　Hotel。　At　six　o'clock　in　the　evening；　he　was　walking　downcast；　intent；　as　one　who　had　dropped　money；　along　the　road　towards　Bognor；　kicking　up　the　dust　with　his　shoes　and　fretting　with　disappointed　pugnacity。　A　thwarted；　crestfallen　Hoopdriver　it　was；　as　you　may　well　imagine。　And　then　suddenly　there　jumped　upon　his　attentiona　broad　line　ribbed　like　a　shilling；　and　close　beside　it　one　chequered；　that　ever　and　again　split　into　two。　〃Found！〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver　and　swung　round　on　his　heel　at　once；　and　back　to　the　Royal　George；　helter　skelter；　for　the　bicycle　they　were　minding　for　him。　The　ostler　thought　he　was　confoundedly　imperious；　considering　his　machine。
  AT　BOGNOR
  XXI
  That　seductive　gentleman；　Bechamel；　had　been　working　up　to　a　crisis。　He　had　started　upon　this　elopement　in　a　vein　of　fine　romance；　immensely　proud　of　his　wickedness；　and　really　as　much　in　love　as　an　artificial　oversoul　can　be；　with　Jessie。　But　either　she　was　the　profoundest　of　coquettes　or　she　had　not　the　slightest　element　of　Passion　（with　a　large　P）　in　her　composition。　It　warred　with　all　his　ideas　of　himself　and　the　feminine　mind　to　think　that　under　their　flattering　circumstances　she　really　could　be　so　vitally　deficient。　He　found　her　persistent　coolness；　her　more　or　less　evident　contempt　for　himself；　exasperating　in　the　highest　degree。　He　put　it　to　himself　that　she　was　enough　to　provoke　a　saint；　and　tried　to　think　that　was　piquant　and　enjoyable；　but　the　blisters　on　his　vanity　asserted　themselves。　The　fact　is；　he　was；　under　this　standing　irritation；　getting　down　to　the　natural　man　in　himself　for　once；　and　the　natural　man　in　himself；　in　spite　of　Oxford　and　the　junior　Reviewers'　Club；　was　a　Palaeolithic　creature　of　simple　tastes　and　violent　methods。　〃I'll　be　level　with　you　yet；〃　ran　like　a　plough　through　the　soil　of　his　thoughts。
  Then　there　was　this　infernal　detective。　Bechamel　had　told　his　wife　he　was　going　to　Davos　to　see　Carter。　To　that　he　had　fancied　she　was　reconciled；　but　how　she　would　take　this　exploit　was　entirely　problematical。　She　was　a　woman　of　peculiar　moral　views；　and　she　measured　marital　infidelity　largely　by　its　proximity　to　herself。　Out　of　her　sight；　and　more　particularly　out　of　the　sight　of　the　other　women　of　her　set；　vice　of　the　recognised　description　was；　perhaps；　permissible　to　those　contemptible　weaklings；　men；　but　this　was　Evil　on　the　High　Roads。　She　was　bound　to　make　a　fuss；　and　these　fusses　invariably　took　the　final　form　of　a　tightness　of　money　for　Bechamel。　Albeit；　and　he　felt　it　was　heroic　of　him　to　resolve　so；　it　was　worth　doing　if　it　was　to　be　done。　His　imagination　worked　on　a　kind　of　matronly　Valkyrie；　and　the　noise　of　pursuit　and　vengeance　was　in　the　air。　The　idyll　still　had　the　front　of　the　stage。　That　accursed　detective；　it　seemed；　had　been　thrown　off　the　scent；　and　that；　at　any　rate；　gave　a　night's　respite。　But　things　must　be　brought　to　an　issue　forthwith。
  By　eight　o'clock　in　the　evening；　in　a　little　dining…room　in　the　Vicuna　Hotel；　Bognor；　the　crisis　had　come；　and　Jessie；　flushed　and　angry　in　the　face　and　with　her　heart　sinking；　faced　him　again　for　her　last　st；ruggle　with　him。　He　had　tricked　her　this　time；　effectually；　and　luck　had　been　on　his　side。　She　was　booked　as　Mrs。　Beaumont。　Save　for　her　refusal　to　enter　their　room；　and　her　eccentricity　of　eating　with　unwashed　hands；　she　had　so　far　kept　up　the　appearances　of　things　before　the　waiter。　But　the　dinner　was　grim　enough。　Now　in　turn　she　appealed　to　his　better　nature　and　made　extravagant　statements　of　her　plans　to　fool　him。
  He　was　white　and　vicious　by　this　time；　and　his　anger　quivered　through　his　pose　of　brilliant　wickedness。
  〃I　will　go　to　the　station；〃　she　said。　〃I　will　go　back〃
  〃The　last　train　for　anywhere　leaves　at　7。42。〃
  〃I　will　appeal　to　the　police〃
  〃You　don't　know　them。〃
  〃I　will　tell　these　hotel　people。〃
  〃They　will　turn　you　out　of　doors。　You're　in　such　a　thoroughly　false　position　now。　They　don't　understand　unconventionality；　down　here。〃
  She　stamped　her　foot。　〃If　I　wander　about　the　streets　all　night〃　she　said。
  〃You　who　have　never　been　out　alone　after　dusk？　Do　you　know　what　the　streets　of　a　charming　little　holiday　resort　are　like〃
  〃I　don't　care；〃　she　said。　〃I　can　go　to　the　clergyman　here。〃
  〃He's　a　charming　man。　Unmarried。　And　men　are　really　more　alike　than　you　think。　And　anyhow〃
  〃Well？〃
  〃How　CAN　you　explain　the　last　two　nights　to　anyone　now？　The　mischief　is　done；　Jessie。〃
  〃You　CUR；〃　she　said；　and　suddenly　put　her　hand　to　her　breast。　He　thought　she　meant　to　faint；　but　she　stood；　with　the　colour　gone　from　her　face。
  〃No