not tax his mind with remembering, then, where or when he had seen him
before.

"There he is," went the words of the boy, as he and the young woman
came in sight of the colonel and Shag--but it was at the detective the
lad pointed. "There he is!"

The girl rushed impulsively forward, and, as she held out her hands in
a voiceless appeal, there was worry and anguish depicted on her face.

"Are you Colonel Brentnall?" she asked.

The colonel was sufficiently familiar with his alias not to betray
surprise when it was used.

"I am," he said, and the peaceful, joyous look that had come into his
eyes when he had landed his fish gave way to a hard and professional
stare.

"Oh, Colonel Brentnall! I've come to ask you to help me--help him!
You will, won't you? Don't say you won't!"

The girl's face, her blue eyes, the outstretched hands, the very poise
of her lithe, young body voiced the appeal.

"My dear young lady," began the colonel. But she interrupted with:

"You're the detective, aren't you?"

"Well--er--I--Say rather _a_ detective, for there are many, and I am