I have a diary, and I have it, in consequence, difficult, in telling this narrative, to the minor of my in their proper sequence. I am by the light of an memory; and the work is by the that the early days of my at Sanstead House are a blur, a like a Futurist picture, from which the of boys—boys working, boys eating, boys playing football, boys whispering, shouting, questions, doors, jumping on beds, and and along passages, the whole picture with a of beef, ink, chalk, and that which is like nothing else on earth.

I cannot the incidents. I can see Mr Abney, as to the and at the jaw, trying to Ogden Ford from a half-smoked cigar-stump. I can Glossop, angry, at an class. A dozen other pictures come to me, but I cannot place them in their order; and perhaps, after all, their is unimportant. This with which were the ordinary life.

With the the Little Nugget and Authority, for instance, the has little to do. It is a for an epic, but it from the main of the story, and must be avoided. To tell of his taming, of the his until we able to with him, would be to turn this into a on education. It is to say that the of his and the which to him was slow.

It was Ogden who tobacco-chewing into the school, with one Saturday night on the of Lords Gartridge and Windhall and Honourables Edwin Bellamy and Hildebrand Kyne. It was the gambling-game by Ogden which was the of twenty-four English boys when it was upon by Glossop. It was Ogden who, on the one occasion when Mr Abney to the cane, and four mild with it, his by going and all the in all the bedrooms.

We had some difficult at Sanstead House. Abney's policy of that. But Ogden Ford alone.

* * * * *

I have said that it is difficult for me to place the events of my in their proper order. I three, which I will call the Affair of the Strange American, the Adventure of the Sprinting Butler, and the Episode of the Genial Visitor.

I will them singly, as they happened.

It was the at Sanstead House for each of the masters to take of one day in every week as a holiday. The was not liberal, and in most schools, I believe, it is increased; but Mr Abney was a man with views on other people's holidays, and Glossop and I were restricted.

My day was Wednesday; and on the Wednesday of which I I the village. I had in my mind a game of at the local inn. Sanstead House and its were in the excitements, and at the 'Feathers' for the pleasure-seeker the and end of the Gay Whirl.

There was a local the game of at the 'Feathers'. You played the a hundred up, then you took him into the bar-parlour and him refreshment. He his glass, said, 'To you, sir', and it at a gulp. After that you could, if you wished, play another game, or go home, as your dictated.

There was only one other of the bar-parlour when we thither, and a at him told me that he was not sober. He was in a chair, with his on the side-table, and slowly, in a voice, the words:

'I don't care—if he wears—a crown, He—can't—keep kicking my—dawg aroun'.'

He was a tough, clean-shaven man, with a nose, over which was a soft hat. His were in what I put as a mail-order suit. I have him by his appearance, if I had not already done so by his voice, as an East-side New Yorker. And what an East-side New Yorker be doing in Sanstead it was me to explain.

We had seated ourselves when he rose and out. I saw him pass the window, and his that no should his dog came to my ears as he the street.

'American!' said Miss Benjafield, the barmaid, with disapproval. 'They're all alike.'

I Miss Benjafield—one would as soon the Statue of Liberty—so I sympathetically.

'What's he here for I'd like to know?'

It to me that I also should like to know. In another thirty hours I was to out.

I shall myself open to a of such as Doctor Watson would have when I say that, though I of the a good on my way to the school, I did not arrive at the solution. Much teaching and taking of had my wits, and the presence at Sanstead House of the Little Nugget did not to me as a why Americans should be in the village.

We now come to the activity of White, the butler.

It that same evening.

It was not late when I started on my way to the house, but the January day was over, and it was very dark as I in at the big gate of the and my way up the drive. The drive at Sanstead House was a of gravel, about two hundred yards in length, on either by trees and rhododendrons. I out briskly, for it had to freeze. Just as I through the trees of the lights of the windows, there came to me the of feet.

I stopped. The noise louder. There to be two runners, one moving with short, quick steps, the other, the one in front, taking a longer stride.

I instinctively. In another moment, making a great on the gravel, the of the pair passed me; and as he did so, there was a crack, and something sang through the like a large mosquito.

The of the on the man who had been was immediate. He stopped in his and into the bushes. His on the turf.

The whole had only a seconds, and I was still there when I was aware of the other man approaching. He had up the pursuit, for he was walking slowly. He stopped a of me and I him to himself.

'Who's that?' I sharply. The of the pistol had a to my nerves. Mine had been a life, into which revolver-shots had not entered, and I was this of them. I and irritated.

It gave me a to see that I had the unknown of as much as he had me. The movement he as he my direction was almost a leap; and it upon me that I had at once my identity as a non-combatant. I appeared to have into the of a private quarrel, one party to which—the one a of yards from me with a in his hand—was a man of impulse, the of man who would shoot and afterwards.

'I'm Mr Burns,' I said. 'I'm one of the assistant-masters. Who are you?'

'Mr Burns?'

Surely that rich voice was familiar.

'White?' I said.

'Yes, sir.'

'What on earth do you think you're doing? Have you gone mad? Who was that man?'

'I wish I tell you, sir. A very character. I him at the of the house very suspiciously. He took to his and I him.'

'But'—I spoke querulously, my nature was shocked—'you can't go at people like that just you them at the of the house. He might have been a tradesman.'

'I think not, sir.'

'Well, so do I, if it comes to that. He didn't like one. But all the same—'

'I take your point, sir. But I was to him.'

'You succeeded all right. He through those like a cannon-ball.'

I him chuckle.

'I think I may have him a little, sir.'

'We must phone to the police-station. Could you the man?'

'I think not, sir. It was very dark. And, if I may make the suggestion, it would be not to the police. I have a very opinion of these country constables.'

'But we can't have men prowling—'

'If you will permit me, sir. I say—let them prowl. It's the only way to catch them.'

'If you think this of thing is likely to again I must tell Mr Abney.'

'Pardon me, sir, I think it would be not. He me as a gentleman, and it would only him.'

At this moment it me that, in my in the fugitive, I had to notice what was the most point in the whole affair. How did White to have a at all? I have met many who in their time. One I played the fiddle; another Socialism in Hyde Park. But I had yet come across a who pistols.

'What were you doing with a revolver?' I asked.

He hesitated.

'May I ask you to keep it to yourself, sir, if I tell you something?' he said at last.

'What do you mean?'

'I'm a detective.'

'What!'

'A Pinkerton's man, Mr Burns.'

I like one who sees the 'danger' over thin ice. But for this information, who what move I might not have made, under the that the Little Nugget was unguarded? At the same time, I not help that, if had been before, they had more so in the light of this discovery. To Ogden away had me, since his at the school, as an easy task. It more difficult now than ever.

I had the to affect astonishment. I my of an assistant-master by the news that the is a in as as I was able. It appeared to be satisfactory, for he to explain.

'I am by Mr Elmer Ford to his son. There are parties after that boy, Mr Burns. Naturally he is a prize. Mr Ford would pay a large to his only son if he were kidnapped. So it to he takes precautions.'

'Does Mr Abney know what you are?'

'No, sir. Mr Abney thinks I am an ordinary butler. You are the only person who knows, and I have only told you you have to catch me in a position for a to be in. You will keep it to yourself, sir? It doesn't do for it to about. These have to be done quietly. It would be for the if my presence here were advertised. The other wouldn't like it. They would think that their sons were in danger, you see. It would be for them. So if you will just what I've been telling you, Mr Burns—'

I him that I would. But I was very from meaning it. If there was one thing which I to in mind, it was the that mine were upon that Little Nugget.

The third and last of this of occurrences, the Episode of the Genial Visitor, took place on the day, and may be passed over briefly. All that was that a well-dressed man, who gave his name as Arthur Gordon, of Philadelphia, in to the school. He for not having to make an appointment, but that he was England almost immediately. He was looking for a for his sister's son, and, to meet his acquaintance, Mr Elmer Ford, in London, he had been to Mr Abney. He himself pleasant. He was a breezy, man, who with Mr Abney, the boys, the Little Nugget in the ribs, to that youth's discomfort, a of the house, in the of which he Ogden's bedroom—in order, he told Mr Abney, to be able to report to his friend Ford that the son and was not being too much, and in a of good-humour, every one over his personality. His last were that was satisfactory, and that he had learned all he wanted to know.

Which, as was proved that same night, was the truth.