Evening star., 1921-04-28
Bulldog Drummond
BY CYRIL McNEIlE ("Sapper)
A Novel Of Mystery, Love and Adventure.
BY CYRIL McNEILE ("Sapper")
Copyright. 1874. b George h. Dorm O.. J

ping his leg. "I'n eat my hat If that
Frenchman isn't Franklyn-or Lib
stein--or Baron Darott-or any other
of the blamed names he calls him.
self He's the biggest proposition
we've ever been up against on this
little old earth. and he's done us
every time. He never commits him
self. and if he does he always coy
ers his tracks He's genius: he's
the goods. Gee" he Whistled gently
under his breath. "If we could only
lay him by the heels"
For while he stared in front of
him, lost in his dream of pleasant an
ticipation: then. with short laugh,
he pulled himself together.
quite a few people have thought
the same, captain" he remarked, and
there he is-still drinking high balls.
You say he was with a crowd of rev.
olutionaries last night. What do you
mean exactly?"
"Bolshevists. anarchists, members
of the Do-nO-work a nd have all -th p
money Brigade" answered Hugh.
But excuse me a moment. waiter.
A man who had been lowering round
came up promptly.
rapid undertone. "Frenchman with
a beard. Yank and two Boches.
Do your best"
"Right-o. old BEAM returned the
waiter. but don't hope for too much"
He disappeared unobtrusively into
the restaurant and Hugh turned with
a laugh to the American. who was
staring at him in amaZement.
who the devil is that guy" asked
the detective at length.
Ted Jerningham-son of Sir Pat
rick birmingham, Bart. and Lady
grinning. we may be crude in our
methods. Mr. Green, but you must
admit we do our best. Incidentally
If you want to know, your friend Mr..
Potts is at present tucked between
went there by aeroplane this morn
ing" He waved a hand toward Jerry.
He was the pilot"
Travelled like a bird, and sucked
up a plate of meat-juice at the end"
announced that worthy, removing his
eyes with difficulty from a recently
arrived fairy opposite. who says
| that's nothing. Hugh; the filly across
the road there. with that bangle af-
fair round her knee?"
Il must apologize for him. Mr.
Green" remarked Hugh. He has
only, recently left school. and knows
no better"
But the American was shaking his
head little dazedly.
Crude" he murmured. crude. If
you and your pals. captain, are ever
out of a job, the New York police is
for few moments in silence and
then. with a quick hunch or his
shoulders. he turned to Drummond.
II guess thereIl be time to throw
bouquets after" he remarked. We've
got to get busy on what your friend
Peterson's little worry is: we've then
got to stop it-some old how Now.
does nothing sort of strike you?'
He looked keenly at the soldier.
'Revolutionaries, bolshevists, paid
agitators last night; international
broad outline of the plan is as plain
as the nose on your face; and it's
just the sort of game that man would
| love. y The detective stared
| thoughtfully at the end of his cigar,
to dawn on Hugh's face.
Great Scott! Mr.. Green" he said,
I'm beginning to get you
What was defeating me was, why
two men like. Peterson and Laking-
nin,,.s ton should be- mixed up with last
"Lakington. Who's Lakington?"
asked the other quickly.
Number Two in the combine" said
Hugh, and a nasty man."
Well. wen leave him out for the
moment" said the American. Doesn't
1t strike you that there are quite a
number of people in this world who
would benefit if England became a
sort of second Russia? That such a
thing would be worth money-big
money? That such a thing would be
worth paying through the nose for?
1t would have to be done properly;
your small strike here, and your
small strike there, ain't no manner
of use. One gigantic syndicalist
strike all over your country-that's
what Peterson's playing for, I'll
stake my bottom dollar. How he's
doing 1t is anoother matter. But he's
in with the big financiers: and he's
using the tub-thumping Bolshies as
tools. Cad! It's a big scheme"-he
puffed twice at his cigar-.a burned
big scheme. Your little old country,
Captain. is. saving one. the finest on
Gods earth; but she's in funny
mood She's sick. like most of us
are: maybe she's a little bit sioker
than good many people think. But
! reckon Petcrson's cure won't do any
manner of good. excepting to him
self and those blamed capitalists who
are putting up the dollars"
Then where the devil does Potts