early for the after theatre traffic to fill the streets and compel us to stop every few minutes, we followed the main road up Oxford Street as far as the Marble Arch. There we turned to the right. Once clear of the narrow part of the Edgeware Road, Winter put on his second speed and a very few minutes seemed to have passed before we were bumping over a rough bit of roadway by Cricklewood.

"There's not much of this," said Winter, cheerily over his shoulder to the Colonel.

Our gastronomic friend merely grunted for reply, and I should have thought him to be asleep had not the red glow of his cigar assured me that he was still awake.

Winter jammed on his third speed and the hedges began to fly past us. We were in the country now and were able to appreciate the fineness of the night. Indeed it was a perfect night. The air was sharp but without sting. The moon shone with a clear brilliance which betokened rain in the near future. The road was clean and dry, and there was no dust in the air except the thin cloud which floated behind us. We passed the Welsh Harp without a check, and not until we reached Edgeware did Winter revert to his second speed. We ran through the little town with only momentary slackening of pace, and so we sped onwards until we opened the stretch of road leading to Brockley Hill. Here Winter, seeing the road clear ahead, jammed on his highest speed and the wheels droned like a hive of bees as we darted towards the incline. We were half way up the hill before Winter found it necessary to transform his speed into power, and we finished the ascent with ease. Then once more the order was third speed, and we whirled away through Elstree and passed through Radlett a bare half hour from the time we started.

Just at this time I looked back to see how Colonel Maitland fared. His cigar no longer glowed, though it was still tightly held between his teeth. His head was bent forward, and the regular and gentle murmur which came from his nose proclaimed that he slept. I had just mentioned the fact to Winter, and had turned again to assure myself that he was comfortably wrapped in his rug, when I thought I saw on the road behind me another car.

"Hullo!" I said to Winter. "There's another chap coming on behind us. Without lights, too!"

A slight bend in the road shut out the view, however, and made me doubt whether or no my eyes had been deceiving me.

"Pooh!" replied Winter. "We've passed nothing on the road, and at the pace we've been travelling there's not another car owned in this district we should not have left miles behind us, even if it had started at the same time as ourselves. You must have mistaken some of the shadows from the trees. How much of that port did you drink?"

I laughed, but as we had now reached a straight stretch of road I looked back again.

"I'm right," I said. "There is another car, and by jove! It's coming up hand over fist."

"What?" shouted Winter. "What?"

He clearly did not appreciate the idea of being overtaken by any one, for he whipped on his highest speed and jammed down the accelerator. The change was enormous. Our powerful car, relieved from all restraint, simply leaped through the air. Winter gave a pleased laugh as he steadied her with the wheel.

"If the stranger can catch us now I shall believe it's the Motor Pirate himself," he remarked in a pleased tone, that showed how proud he was of his own car.

Our progress was so exhilarating that I wanted to shout defiance to the stranger; yet I was so fascinated with the pace we were travelling, that I could not take my eyes from the road which uncoiled before us.

Suddenly a humming sound forced itself upon my ear. For a moment I thought it was due to the whirr of our own wheels. Then it struck me that the note was a higher one. I half turned. The other car was within a yard or two of us. In another second it was level and, running without any visible vibration, indeed, without any noise save the snore of the wheels as they raced round, the stranger slackened speed and ran by our side.

Winter cast a hasty glance at the strange car, and I saw him bite his lip with annoyance at finding his Daimler so outpaced.

One glance at the stranger was enough to tell me with whom we had to deal. In the brilliant moonlight, the boat-shaped car with its sharp prow, the almost invisible wheels, the masked occupant, assured me that the evening papers had not been the victims of a hoax.

"It's the Motor Pirate himself," I said to Winter, and my voice was hoarse with excitement.

"Motor Pirate be d——d!" replied Winter. What more he would have said I do not know, for at this moment the stranger turning his mask towards us called out in the most urbane manner—

"I must trouble you gentlemen to stop that car."

Winter at the best of times is of rather a peppery disposition, and whenever any one requires him to pull up, his temper invariably gets the better of his manners. His reply was an unnecessarily verbose, and needlessly forcible negative.

I heard the stranger chuckle. "I really must trouble you to obey my wishes," he replied, with ironic courtesy. "Otherwise I shall be compelled to do some damage to that car of yours, a proceeding I always try to avoid if possible."

"Do what you please," was in effect Winter's luridly adjectived answer.

"If you do not pull up within thirty seconds your fate will be upon your own heads," said the stranger, shortly, as he laid his hand upon a lever.

His car leapt away from ours, and though we were running nearly sixty miles an hour, we might have been standing still, he dropped us so rapidly. In fifteen seconds he had vanished in a cloud of dust ahead.

"I'm going to stop," said Winter, abruptly. He suited the action to the word, and none too soon.

Again we heard the curious drone of the strange car as it swooped down upon us, coming to a sudden halt a yard distant, with really beautiful precision.

"What do you want?" shouted Winter, in his gruffest tones.

"I'm glad to find you have had the wisdom to do as I desired you," said the Motor Pirate; for it was indeed he with whom we were now face to face. "It would have deeply grieved me to wreck so good a car as that you have there. A Daimler, I believe?"

"Oh, d——n your compliments! What is it you want?" growled Winter.

"Merely any articles of jewellery and any money you may happen to have about you," remarked the stranger, pleasantly.

I saw the moonlight glitter on the barrel of a revolver as he spoke, and he now lifted the weapon and pointed it towards us.

"I do not wish to proceed to extremities, and, as I gather from your speech that I am dealing with gentlemen"—really Winter's language had fully warranted the sarcasm—"if you will give me your word of honour that you will hand over to me all articles of value in your possession, I will leave your car untouched. If, on the contrary, you decline to oblige me, I shall be under the disagreeable necessity of ruining that very handsome car you are driving. I do not like to hurry you, but I am afraid I must ask you to come to a speedy decision on the matter, for these roads in the vicinity of London are not quite so secluded as one of my profession could wish."

He delivered this speech with an air of mock politeness, which made Winter writhe. He did not, however, reply. I think he was too angry.

"Come, gentlemen! Make up your minds. Your money or your—car!"

He made a slight pause before he said the word "car," and his fingers played with the revolver in a manner that sent a cold shiver down my