The American Visitor The big red American ear was much too wide for an English country road. When Paul Carson saw it coming towards him, he stopped his own car at the side, to make room for it to pass. The big car went slowly past, so close that Paul could see its driver's face quite clearly. It was not a pretty face. The mouth was too large, and the ears were too small. The black hair was cut very short, and the eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. 'Where have I seen that face before?' Paul wondered. 'Wait a minute. I remember now. It was in the newspaper.' He turned to his sister. 'Have you still got yesterday's paper, Nora? Or did you light the fire with it this morning? You usually do when I need it.' 'No, I didn't,' laughed Nora. 'But it's rather dirty. I put the fish in it just now as they had no paper in the fish shop. It's on the floor at the back of the ear. I'll get it if you like.' She opened the back door and took the fish out of the paper. Paul turned quickly to the middle page and showed her the picture. It was partly covered with wet fish's blood, but the face was clear enough. It was not a pretty face. It had a large mouth and small ears, and its eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. 'Wanted by the police,' read Paul, 'for paying bills with useless cheques at hotels and shops in Margate, Brighton and other large seaside towns. The City Bank will pay fifty pounds to anyone who helps the police to catch this man.' 'Does it say anything about an American care' 'No. But listen to this. He is English, but he usually talks and dresses like an American visitor. Perhaps it's a stolen car. Men like him use a different car every week.' 'That's true. What are you going to do, Paul? Call the police?' 'No. I want to make sure first.' He turned the car and began to drive back the same way. 'Let's follow him and watch for a few minutes. What's his car number? Where is he staying? To get our fifty pounds, we must be able to tell the police as much as possible.' Soon they saw the red car in front of them. It seemed to be going very slowly. 'Don't go too near, Paul. If he sees us, we'll never catch him. Oh, be careful, he's stopping!' Paul stopped his own car behind an old farm-cart at the roadside, so that the man could not see him. The door of the red car opened, and its driver got out and looked round. Then he started walking towards an old white house, which was half-hidden by trees a little way from the road. 'That's Seldon Manor, the Lightfoot's house!' said Paul. 'They're away in Greece this summer, staying with her family. Dick Lightfoot married a Greek girl, you remember? The gardener is taking care of the place, but there's no one living there at present.' He looked once more at the picture in the newspaper. Then he got out of the car. 'Listen, Nora. You must stay here with the car. I'm going across the field to the side of the house. He won't see me, but I'll be able to watch him. If you hear me call, drive up to the house as quickly as you can.' He left her and ran across the field. The man was coming away from the front door and walking round the side of the house. The door of the garden-room was open, and he went inside. Paul Carson did not stop to think or to ask questions. He ran across the garden and shut the door. Then he fixed it so that it could be opened only from outside. There was no other door or window. The man was caught. Paul did not wait to talk. He ran back to the car as fast as he could. Behind him he could hear the angry man trying to break the door open. But it was a strong door he would soon get tired of hitting it. When they reached the police station, Paul went in and quickly told the police officer all about th