"It's no use hanging on to the slack," observed Claverhouse, moving in the direction of the car. "Jump in and let's get along. First stop Winchester, I presume?"
"What for?" asked the stranger. "Not on my account?"
"But surely," said Claverhouse, in astonishment, "you are going to inform the police?"
"A waste of valuable time," objected the other. "No, if you don't mind dropping me in Southampton I'll be doubly obliged. I'll take that attaché case with me, if you please."
"Good enough," agreed Claverhouse. "Beverley, dear old soul, you're riding the bike, I believe?"
"That is so," admitted Bobby.
"And," continued Alec, with a grin, "you think you'll hang on to us? You'll be dropped, old son, for a dead cert. So don't you think it would be just as well to ask this gentleman's address? Where shall we put you down, sir?" he asked, turning to the stranger.
"Richborough Chambers," was the unexpected reply.
"Well, I'm hanged!" exclaimed Villiers. "That's rummy—very. Do you happen to know of a fellow who, for certain reasons, calls himself 'Joystick'?"
A faint smile overspread the man's bull-dog features.