BULL-DOG DRUMMOND

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I

IN WHICH HE TAKES TEA AT THE CARLTON AND IS SURPRISED

CHAPTER II

IN WHICH HE JOURNEYS TO GODALMING, AND THE GAME BEGINS

CHAPTER III

IN WHICH THINGS HAPPEN IN HALF MOON STREET

CHAPTER IV

IN WHICH HE SPENDS A QUIET NIGHT AT THE ELMS

CHAPTER V

IN WHICH THERE IS TROUBLE AT GORING

CHAPTER VI

IN WHICH A VERY OLD GAME TAKES PLACE ON THE HOG'S BACK

CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH HE SPENDS AN HOUR OR TWO ON A ROOF

CHAPTER VIII

IN WHICH HE GOES TO PARIS FOR A NIGHT

CHAPTER IX

IN WHICH HE HAS A NEAR SHAVE

CHAPTER X

IN WHICH THE HUN NATION DECREASES BY ONE

CHAPTER XI

IN WHICH LAKINGTON PLAYS HIS LAST "COUP"

CHAPTER XII

IN WHICH THE LAST ROUND TAKES PLACE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

In the month of December 1918, and on the very day that a British Cavalry Division marched into Cologne, with flags flying and bands playing as the conquerors of a beaten nation, the manager of the Hotel Nationale in Berne received a letter. Its contents appeared to puzzle him somewhat, for having read it twice he rang the bell on his desk to summon his secretary. Almost immediately the door opened, and a young French girl came into the room.

"Monsieur rang?" She stood in front of the manager's desk, awaiting instructions.

"Have we ever had staying in the hotel a man called le Comte de Guy?" He leaned back in his chair and looked at her through his pince-nez.

The secretary thought for a moment and then shook her head.

"Not as far as I can remember," she said.

"Do we know anything about him? Has he ever fed here, or taken a private room?"

Again the secretary shook her head.

"Not that I know of."

The manager handed her the letter, and waited in silence until she had read it.

"It seems on the face of it a peculiar request from an unknown man," he remarked as she laid it down. "A dinner of four covers; no expense to be spared. Wines specified and if not in hotel to be obtained. A private room at half-past seven sharp. Guests to ask for room X."

The secretary nodded in agreement.

"It can hardly be a hoax," she remarked after a short silence.

"No." The manager tapped his teeth with his pen thoughtfully. "But if by any chance it was, it would prove an expensive one for us. I wish I could think who this Comte de Guy is."

"He sounds like a Frenchman," she answered. Then after a pause: "I suppose you'll have to take it seriously?"

"I must." He took off his pince-nez and laid them on the desk in front of him. "Would you send the maître d'hôtel to me at once."

Whatever may have been the manager's misgivings, they were certainly not shared by the head waiter as he left the office after receiving his instructions. War and short rations had not been conducive to any particularly lucrative business in his sphere; and the whole sound of the proposed entertainment seemed to him to contain considerable promise. Moreover, he was a man who loved his work, and a free hand over preparing a dinner was a joy in itself. Undoubtedly he personally would meet the three guests and the mysterious