"There's the key of the handcuffs; take it and set yourself free. Do you know what's going to happen to you? To-morrow morning Dr. Phillipson is going to examine you, and to report that you'll be a dead man in a year's time if you stop another week in this country. You are going out of it, and you are going to stop out of it. Do you understand? Stop out of it to the end of your days. For if ever you put foot in it again I'll handle you as a terrier handles a rat! Dollops?"
"Yes, guv'ner?"
"My things packed and ready?"
"Yes, sir. And all waitin' in the arbour, sir, as you told me to have 'em."
"Good lad! Get them, and we'll catch the first train back. Mrs. Bawdrey, my best respects. Captain, all good luck to you. The riddle is solved. Good-night."
CHAPTER VI
THE WIZARD'S BELT
It was exactly three o'clock when the two-forty-seven train from Victoria set Cleek down at Wandsworth Common, and it was exactly fifteen minutes later when he was shown into the modest little drawing-room of 17 Sunnington Crescent by Mrs. Culpin herself, handed an afternoon paper, and left in sole possession of the place.
The letter that drew him to this particular house at this particular time had come from Mr. Narkom, and was couched in these words: