Summoning every ounce of his strength, Joe lifted the latter bodily in his arms. Then with swaying steps he stumbled forward in the direction of the trapdoor, where the little yellow flame of the candle which Nancy was holding flickered and gleamed above their heads.
"Get 'old of the ladder, guv'nor," he panted. "Get 'old of it some'ow and I'll shove yer up."
Colin heard, and with blue and stiffened fingers caught desperately at the rungs.
At the same moment he glanced up toward the trap, and there, sharply illuminated in the candle-light, he saw Nancy's face bending down toward him.
With something between a sob and a laugh she stretched out her hand.
"Stop as you are now," came Joe's voice. "I'm goin' to stoop down so as you can get on top of me. All you've gotter do is to keep yerself stiff."
There was a splash, and a second later Colin's ankles were encircled in a powerful grip. Then his feet were resting on Joe's shoulders, and inch by inch he felt himself hoisted upward, until Nancy's fingers closed tightly round his wrists.
Another heave from below and the upper half of his body was through the trap. He thrust out a hand to steady himself, and as he did so a sudden wave of giddiness overcame him, and he sank sideways into Nancy's arms.
"Colin, Colin dear! It's all over. You're safe up here with us."
He opened his eyes, to find his head resting upon Nancy's shoulder, and the dripping figure of Joe just emerging through the trap. For a moment he made no attempt to move, then, as the truth of the statement became increasingly clear to him, a contented sigh escaped his lips.
Nancy drew him still closer, her soft cheek pressing against his. "Are you much hurt?" she whispered.
Though feeling curiously disinclined for conversation, Colin managed to find his voice.
"I don't think so," he said weakly. "What I really want is a good stiff drink."
Joe, who had stepped out on the floor, and picked up the candle, glanced hastily round the room, then with a sudden exclamation he darted across toward a shelf by the bed.
"'Ere we are!" he cried triumphantly. "'Ere's the very thing!"
He wrenched out the cork from a half-empty bottle of rum, and hurrying back to where Colin was lying, dropped down on one knee alongside of him.
"'Ave a go at this, doctor," he urged. "Nothing like rum to warm yer up when you're wet through."
He tilted forward the bottle, and, putting his lips to the neck, Colin gulped in a generous mouthful. The raw spirit sent a comforting glow all through his chilled and exhausted body, and with a fresh effort he struggled up into a sitting position.
"Thank you both," he gasped, with the ghost of a smile. "Sorry not to have said it before, but I'm only just beginning to get my bearings." He stared a little dizzily from one to the other of them. "Where are 'Spike' Cooper and his friends, and how in the name of all that's wonderful did you manage to find your way here?"
"It was Joe," said Nancy. "He had been watching this house for the last two days, and he had seen them go in and out. When you didn't come back he felt sure you must have been trapped."
"So we just come along to see wot was 'appening," continued Joe, removing his mouth from the bottle. "And bleedin' lucky we did, too, judgin' by the way things was shapin'."
Colin passed his hand over his forehead. "But how did you get in?" he asked. "What have you done with the others?"
"There wasn't no others," explained Joe. "Only a bitin', scratchin' she-devil." He got up suddenly, and, tiptoeing lightly to the door, peered out into the passage. "Yus," he added, "she's still there, blarst 'er."
"It's the old woman who opened the door," explained Nancy. "Joe tied her up and gagged her so that she shouldn't be able to interfere. There doesn't seem to be any one else in the house."
"Then the quicker we get out of this the better," exclaimed Colin. "They've probably only gone round to the nearest pub, and now the cellar's flooded they may be back any minute."
"It's all right," said Nancy. "I've got Mark's pistol with me."
"You would have," returned Colin admiringly. "All the same, it would be madness not to make a bolt for it while we've got the chance. We shall have plenty of time to talk when we're safe outside." He extended an arm to each of them, and with their joint assistance scrambled painfully to his feet. "You'll have to help me along at first," he added; "my legs are so cramped I can hardly move a step."
"I was afraid they'd killed you," said Nancy, with a queer little gulp. "There was blood all along the passage."
"Oh, that wasn't mine," returned Colin reassuringly. "That belonged to one of the other gentlemen whom I happened to kick in the face."
"We may as well taike this with us," observed Joe, stuffing the remainder of the rum into his pocket. "Nah, doctor, you 'ang on tight to me, an' don't you worry yerself abaht nothin'. We ain't bein' stopped this journey, not if we runs into the 'ole stinkin' pack of 'em."
He slipped an arm like a steel cable round Colin's waist, and, preceded by Nancy carrying the candle, they staggered out into the corridor.
"Don't you mind treadin' on 'er," continued Joe, as they approached the squirming figure on the floor. "She's one o' them wild cats that it don't pay to be perlite with."
Colin himself was in no mood for superfluous courtesy, but a timely swerve enabled him to avoid the opposite extreme, and the next minute they had hobbled down the steps, and were standing on the pavement.
Blowing out the candle, and placing it on the ground, Nancy closed the door behind them.
Joe held out his free hand toward her. "Better let me 'ave the gun, miss," he remarked. "We might meet 'em before we gets to Flood Lane, and, seein' as they means mischief, the only thing to do is to shoot quick."
Nancy handed it over without a word, and, crossing to the railings, took up her position on the farther side of Colin. The latter put his other arm round her shoulder, and in this somewhat huddled formation the three of them started off at a slow pace along the front of the warehouse.
It was a painful journey as far as Colin was concerned, for with every step he took the blood began to circulate more freely through his numbed limbs, causing him such intense agony that at times he could hardly suppress a groan.
In order to take his mind off his sufferings he began to tell them his story, jerking it out in broken and disconnected phrases as they limped their way slowly forward through the darkness. He described how he had been stunned in the passage by a blow from a sandbag, and how, on coming round, he had recognized "Spike" Cooper and the man who had led the attack on Marsden in the King's Road. He went on to give them an account of the way in which he had been thrust down into the cellar and left there to drown, and of how, after what seemed like hours of vain struggling, he had at last succeeded in getting on his feet, just before the water began to pour in through the opening.
"I don't know why I took the trouble," he finished, "except that one doesn't like to go under without a last kick. I never dreamed that there was the faintest chance of my being rescued. When I heard you opening the trap I made certain that it was only Cooper and the others come back to watch me drown."
As he spoke they reached the entrance to Flood Lane, and with a grunt of relief Joe slipped the revolver into his pocket.
"Better not be seen carryin' a gun 'ere," he observed. "There might be a cop at the corner, and I reckon we want to get you back 'ome as soon as possible."
"You needn't worry about me," said Colin encouragingly. "This little stroll has just saved my life."
He was, as a matter of fact, already beginning to walk more easily, and by the time they came out at the top of the lane into the main road he found himself able to dispense with Nancy's assistance.
Even so, with two of the party drenched to the skin, they certainly presented an unusual spectacle. It takes something extremely out-of-the-way, however, to excite much comment in Shadwell High Street, and, except for one or two curious glances which were cast at them as they passed under the street lamps, they managed to reach the surgery without attracting any particular attention.
"I expect I can find you a change, Joe," said Colin, as Nancy pulled out her key. "Doctor Ashton has lots of old clothes kicking about, and I'm sure he won't mind my pinching a suit for you."
Joe shook his head. "It's very good of you, guv'nor, but I won't come in, not if ye don't mind. I gotter be at the Palace by eight o'clock, an' I can get me duds dried there while the boxin's on. They won't be none the worse for a bit o' washin'."
"Oh, but you must, Joe," exclaimed Nancy, in some distress. "You can't go about in those wet things. You'll catch your death of cold."
Joe chuckled hoarsely, and patted the bottle in his side pocket. "Not me, miss," he replied. "I ain't the sort as ketches cold, not when I got 'alf a bottle o' rum on me." He turned to Colin. "You ain't sittin' dahn under this, doctor?" he added. "You let me know when ye feels up to it, and I'll be round 'ere in a brace o' shakes. We'll smash the guts outer them two for this night's work, or my name ain't Joe Bates."
"I'll fix up something of the sort if I can," said Colin hopefully. "I've got a notion, however, that it's rather a bigger business than it looks, so you mustn't be disappointed if we have to bring the police in."
"Jest as you thinks best, guv'nor," was the regretful answer. "I know yer wouldn't spoil a bit o' sport, not if you 'adn't got some good reason for doin' it."
He raised his hand in a parting salute, and, before either of them could say another word, turned swiftly round and slipped out through the iron gate.
"I hope he'll be all right," said Nancy. "He's terribly wet, poor man, and that wretched woman bit his thumb right down to the bone."
"That won't worry Joe," replied Colin reassuringly. "It takes a motor bus to knock him out."
He shivered slightly as he spoke, and with a hurried movement Nancy turned the key and pushed open the door.
"Now, Colin," she said, "you're under my orders. The first thing you've got to do is to come straight up and have a hot bath. Then you must get into bed at once, and I'll bring you something to eat."
"Make it bread and milk," said Colin pleadingly. "I've got such a confounded headache I couldn't face anything more exciting than that."
Taking his arm, Nancy helped him up the staircase to his bedroom, where she lighted the fire and left him to undress. Then, after turning on the bath, and putting everything in readiness, she hastened downstairs to the kitchen.
Martha Jane, bursting with curiosity, greeted her in the doorway.
"I seed you takin' 'im upstairs, miss. However did 'e come to fall in the river?"
"He didn't," said Nancy. "He has been nearly murdered down in one of those old houses by the warehouse. They tied him up in a cellar where the water came in, and left him to drown."
Martha Jane threw up her hands. "Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "And 'im such a pleasant-spoken gentleman, too." She paused to recover her breath. "Who do you reckon done it, miss? Some o' them Bolsheviks?"
"Joe knows who they are," replied Nancy, "and I've no doubt the police will be able to get hold of them. Meanwhile, what we've got to do is to make Doctor Gray some nice hot bread and milk. He's having a bath now, and I'll take it up to him as soon as he's in bed." She glanced at the kitchen clock and a sudden resolve came into her mind. "I think I'd better stay here myself, Martha," she added. "I can easily sleep in Mrs. Ashton's room, and then I shall be able to answer the telephone if there are any night calls."
"I shall be thankful to 'ave yer, miss," was the relieved answer. "You never know what may 'appen, and if the doctor was to die in 'is bed I should be that scared I shouldn't know which way to turn."
"Oh, there's no fear of that," replied Nancy, smiling. "You go along and cut up some bread while I put the milk on."
A quarter of an hour later, carrying a daintily laid tray, she mounted the staircase and tapped at Colin's door.
"Come in," he called out, and, entering the room, she found him sitting up in bed and smoking a cigarette.
"Oh, I'm pretty well all right now, except for my head," he replied cheerfully in answer to her inquiry. "Lucky for me it's a good thick one, or I believe that chap would have fractured my skull."
"I'm not going to let you talk," said Nancy severely. "You've got to eat this and go right off to sleep. I've arranged to stay here to-night so that you won't have to bother about the 'phone."
"I promise I'll be good," said Colin obediently, "but there are two things I want to speak to you about, and they'll neither of them take long."
Nancy glanced at her watch. "I will stop five minutes," she said, "just while you finish your bread and milk."
She sat down on the edge of the bed and helped herself to a cigarette from the case which he held out to her.
"In the first place, I've got to apologize for being an idiot," he began. "If I'd had the sense to listen to your warning I shouldn't have given you and Joe all this confounded trouble." He dipped his spoon into the basin and looked at her thoughtfully. "Well," he added, after a pause, "what do you think of our friend Major Fenton now?"
"I think he ought to be shut up in an asylum," said Nancy. "Any one who tries to commit a murder for such a ridiculous reason as me must be as mad as a hatter."
Colin shook his head. "Fenton isn't mad," he said quietly. "He's just an ordinary blackguard, and rather a clumsy one at that."
Nancy stared at him in bewilderment. "Then why——" she demanded.
"I don't know if you've ever read Boswell," continued Colin, "but Doctor Johnson says that it sharpens a man's wits wonderfully if he's just on the point of being hanged. You can take my word for it that the same thing's true about being drowned. I did a lot of thinking while I was down in that cellar, and I've come to the conclusion that we're up against something much bigger and more complicated than we've got any idea of."
Nancy sat motionless, her blue eyes fixed steadily on his.
"I don't quite understand," she said slowly, "but I somehow feel that you're right."
"I won't try to explain now," replied Colin. "My head's aching too badly for one thing, and in any case I am going to turn the whole business over to Marsden to-morrow, and I would rather wait until I hear what he's got to say about it." He paused. "Besides," he added, "I have only another three minutes, and there's something much more important I want to discuss."
"What's that?" inquired Nancy.
"Come a little closer," said Colin. "It's confidential."
Nancy moved forward obediently, and with a sudden movement Colin pushed aside the tray and took hold of her two hands.
"It's just this," he whispered. "I love you so much that I don't know whether I'm sitting in bed or whether I've died and gone to heaven."
Nancy looked up into his face, a faint smile quivering round the corners of her lips.
"I think you must be in bed, Colin. They don't wear pyjamas in heaven."
He leaned toward her. "Say you care for me, Nancy, even if it isn't true."
She shook her head. "I told you I was no good at pretending. I have loved you shamelessly ever since that first day in the King's Road."
With a deep, contented laugh Colin drew up her hands until they rested on his shoulders. "So have I," he confessed, "but I only realized it while I was waiting to be drowned. I think I must be the biggest fool in England, but I'm certainly the happiest."
He kissed her lips with a passionate tenderness, and then, slipping his arms round her, held her close to him, his face resting against hers.
For a moment or two they remained quite still, then very gently Nancy raised her head.
"I don't know much about concussion, Colin," she said, "but I'm quite sure that this isn't the right treatment for it."
"I haven't got concussion," returned Colin. "What I'm suffering from is an acute form of heart trouble."
Nancy stroked his cheek with her small, cool fingers.
"My poor darling," she whispered. "I will do everything I can for you to-morrow—I promise you that—but Imustrun away now and let you go to sleep. I don't want you to be seriously ill, Colin, especially when you've just found out that you love me."
"Perhaps you're right," admitted Colin reluctantly. "The worst of it is we shall have precious little time to ourselves until Mark comes home, and after that I shall have to dash up to Scotland Yard."
Nancy tucked in the bedclothes, and then, bending over, dropped a soft little kiss on his forehead.
"Never mind," she said happily. "There'll be lots of days after to-morrow."
She walked to the doorway, and for a moment stood there, looking back at him with a world of love and tenderness in her eyes. Then very softly she stepped out into the passage and closed the door behind her.
* * * * * * * * *
When Colin woke next morning it was with a vague feeling that something extraordinarily pleasant had happened to him. For several seconds he lay still, wondering what it could be; then, as the truth suddenly occurred to him, he started up from the pillow and opened his eyes. Two agreeable discoveries awaited him. His headache had gone, and Nancy, fully dressed and holding a cup of tea in her hand, was standing beside the bed.
"I was just going to take it away again," she said, smiling. "You looked so beautifully comfy I hadn't the heart to wake you."
Colin reached out an arm and imprisoned her left hand.
"Tell me quick, Nancy," he said. "Itistrue about last night, isn't it? I'm terribly afraid that perhaps I fell asleep and dreamed it all."
She shook her head. "No, Colin," she said. "It's quite true. You sat up in bed and made love to me in the most passionate manner. I don't know whether you really meant it or whether it was because you had had a blow on the head."
Colin leaned forward, and, taking the cup out of her hand, deposited it carefully on the table beside him. Then he drew her gently down on to the bed, and, putting his arms around her, pressed his lips to hers.
"I think you must be better," said Nancy, as soon as she was at liberty to speak.
"I'm not only better," declared Colin. "I'm perfectly well. I believe an occasional smack from a sandbag would do me all the good in the world."
Nancy parted his thick curly hair, and very carefully examined the back of his head.
"You've got a nasty lump there still," she said. "Hadn't you better stop in bed until Mark comes?"
"Good Lord, no!" returned Colin. "I'm going to get up and do my job. There'll be all last night's patients to see as well as to-day's, and I don't want to land Mark with a double dose of work."
"Well, if you really mean it," said Nancy. "I must go downstairs and get things ready. I haven't even opened the letters yet."
"Just one more kiss first," pleaded Colin.
"Only one, then," said Nancy firmly, "and that must be the last until this afternoon. If you don't treat me with proper respect while I'm your secretary I shall report you to the Medical Council."
For a man who during the last twenty-four hours had looked straight into the face of death, and had also discovered that he was deeply in love, it must be admitted that Colin got through the morning's task with considerable credit. It was no light session either, for, in addition to his ordinary round of visits, he was faced, as he had predicted, by an exceptionally heavy list of callers, several of whom were still indignant over their fruitless vigil on the previous evening. An occasional glimpse of Nancy, however, as she gravely entered the surgery with some necessary reference or address, was sufficient to refresh his energies, and by one-thirty his somewhat exhausting programme was practically complete.
He was, indeed, in the very act of dismissing his last patient when a taxicab drove up to the door, and the sturdy, untidy figure of Mark bundled out on to the pavement. Nancy must have seen him, too, from the study window, for as the front door opened Colin heard her voice in the hall, and the next moment the pair of them entered the surgery.
Mark thrust out his hand and wrung Colin's heartily.
"I needn't ask how everything is," remarked the latter. "You look too damn cheerful for anything but good news."
"That's right," returned Mark, tossing his hat on to a chair. "The operation went off like clockwork, and I left the old lady sitting up in bed having a cup of tea with Mary. She'll be as fit as a fiddle in another fortnight." He stepped forward to the table and glanced casually down at the consulting book. "By Jove, you've had some patients," he exclaimed. "I hope you haven't been bored stiff."
Nancy's lips twitched, and, as though moved by a similar impulse, Colin suddenly burst into a chuckle of laughter.
"No," he replied drily, "I can't exactly say I've been bored."
Mark looked questioningly from one to the other of them. "What's the joke?" he demanded.
As he spoke Martha Jane appeared in the doorway. "Lunch is ready," she announced, "if you'd like me to bring it up."
Colin slipped his arm through Mark's. "You shall hear all about it when we've had something to eat," he answered. "I've been healing the sick ever since half-past nine, and I'm beginning to faint for want of nourishment."
"I'll go along to the cellar and get out a bottle of fizz," suggested Mark. "I think you and Nancy are both entitled to a drink."
Once more Colin laughed appreciatively. "Yes," he said, "under the circumstances I suppose we are."
* * * * * * * * *
"And now," observed Mark, as he pushed his coffee cup away half an hour later, "I'd like to know what you two sunny-hearted infants were giggling at when I made that innocent remark in the surgery."
Colin glanced at Nancy. "Shall I tell him?" he asked, "or will you?"
"Oh, you," said Nancy decisively. "The police will want to know all about it, so it's just as well you should have a rehearsal."
"The police!" exclaimed Mark. "Good heavens, I hope you haven't been sending out prussic acid in mistake for magnesia?"
"It's worse than that," said Colin cheerfully. "However, if you hang on tight to your chair and don't interrupt I think you may be just able to bear it." He paused. "Joking aside, Mark," he added more seriously, "we seem to have struck something really ugly in the way of trouble, and I want your opinion and advice pretty badly."
At the sudden change in his voice Mark sobered down instantly.
"Well, if you mean that, my son," he said, "get on with it at once."
"It's chiefly about Nancy's guardian," continued Colin. "You remember him, the chap who came to lunch?"
Mark nodded.
Going back to their first meeting in Jubilee Place, Colin began very carefully and deliberately to relate everything he knew about Major Fenton, of which Mark was still in ignorance. He described how the man had originally forced his society upon Nancy by pretending to have been acquainted with her father, and how, on discovering who Colin was, he had endeavoured to prejudice her mind against him by inventing that absurd story about a scandal at St. Christopher's Hospital. He went on, step by step, to trace the various developments that had followed—his own inquiries at Scotland Yard, Fenton's abortive proposal to Nancy, his suggestive meeting with "Spike" Cooper outside the public house, and the improvised engagement of Joe Bates in the role of an amateur detective.
Having thus cleared the ground, he proceeded to give a curt account of what had taken place on the previous evening. He spoke very quietly and simply, but the details were dramatic enough in themselves without any word-painting, and it was easy to see the profound amazement with which Mark drank in his story.
So thunderstruck, indeed, did the latter appear to be that nearly a minute must have elapsed after Colin had finished speaking before he attempted to offer his first comment.
"Well, I'm blessed!" he exclaimed. "And they call this a civilized country!"
"Oh, it's civilized enough," returned Colin carelessly. "If I hadn't been able to get some bread and milk and a hot bath when I came back I should probably be down with double pneumonia." He lighted another cigarette and leaned inquiringly across the table. "Those are the facts, anyhow, Mark. And now I'll be much obliged if you'll let me know what you make of 'em."
Mark took off his spectacles and polished them deliberately with his handkerchief.
"There's one thing that's perfectly plain," he said. "The sooner Fenton's in Broadmoor the better for you and Nancy."
"You think he's insane then?"
Mark received the question with a stare of astonishment. "Insane!" he repeated. "Why, what the devil else can he be?"
"You have seen him yourself," persisted Colin. "Did you notice anything the least queer about him?"
Mark paused. "No," he said slowly. "Now you come to mention it, I'm hanged if I did."
"Nor I," was Colin's rejoinder. "I quite agree with you that he ought to be shut up, only I think it's Dartmoor and not Broadmoor."
"But, hang it all," broke in Mark, "a sane man doesn't try to have a perfect stranger murdered just because he's a little sore at being turned down by a girl."
"He doesn't," admitted Colin. "There must be some other reason that we know nothing about, and that's why I'm going to turn the whole thing over to Marsden. If I thought that it was merely a personal matter between him and me I'd go round and knock the stuffing out of him myself."
Mark replaced his spectacles with an air of bewilderment that was almost comic.
"The more one thinks over it," he said, "the more incomprehensible it seems. For one thing, why should he connect you with Nancy at all? You have only seen each other about three times."
There was a pause.
"Well as far as that goes," replied Colin, "he may have a better reason than you imagine."
Mark glanced at Nancy, who had turned a delicate shade of pink.
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean——"
"Yes, I do," replied Colin; "we fixed it up last night over the bread and milk, and I'm so happy that I could get up and dance round the room."
He stretched out his arm, and taking Nancy's hand across the table, bent over and kissed the tips of her fingers.
"Well, if that isn't the limit!" ejaculated Mark bitterly. "I leave my practice in your hands, trusting to your honesty, and when I come back I find you've pinched the one thing I value most—the only perfect secretary a doctor ever had."
Nancy turned toward him with a startled expression. "Oh," she cried remorsefully, "I never knew you'd look at it like that."
Mark got up from his chair, and stepping toward her with a twinkle in his eyes, laid his hand affectionately on her shoulder.
"My beloved child," he said, "I was only joking. I shall just hate losing you, and so will Mary, but, thank God, we're neither of us quite such selfish pigs as to grudge you the happiness you deserve."
He picked up the champagne bottle and tilted the few remaining drops into his empty glass.
"Colin, my lad," he said, "here's my blessing and my congratulations! Nancy's a million times too good for you, but——"
As he spoke the telephone bell rang sharply, and Colin, who was sitting nearest the door, jumped to his feet.
"I'll go," he said. "You finish your speech, Mark. It would be a pity to break off just when you're getting really truthful."
He hurried out into the hall and took down the receiver.
"Is that 276 Shadwell?"
"It is," he answered.
"Inspector Marsden of Scotland Yard speaking. Is Doctor Gray in?"
"He's not only in, but he's talking to you," returned Colin.
"I thought it was your voice," came the reply. "Look here, doctor, I've got back a bit earlier than I expected, and I want to see you as soon as possible. Can you come up to the Yard straight away?"
"I can be there in half an hour," said Colin.
"That will do all right. Don't be later if you can help it. I've been let in for an unexpected appointment at four o'clock, and there are several things I'd like to talk to you about first."
"Well, if it comes to that," remarked Colin, "there's something I'm pretty anxious to discuss with you."
"Anything serious?" rapped out the other.
"Only that somebody tried to murder me last night."
"Tried to murder you!Who was it?"
"Seems to have been a syndicate," was the answer. "The principal parties were two gentlemen called 'Spike' Cooper and Jake Hudson, both of this parish. The third one was the same cheery sportsman who kicked you in the tummy."
He heard a muttered exclamation at the other end of the telephone.
"You had better not say any more now. Come along up immediately. If this is true it's of the utmost importance."
"Yes," said Colin drily. "It struck me that way too."
He replaced the receiver, and, turning round, found Mark and Nancy standing in the doorway.
"I have been summoned to Scotland Yard at once," he informed them. "Marsden seems as anxious to see me as I am to see him."
"Perhaps he's got hold of some clue about the murder?" suggested Mark.
"I shouldn't wonder," said Colin. "I know he went down into the country to look up the Professor's old servant this morning, and he certainly spoke as though things were beginning to move." He turned toward the pegs and started to unhook his hat and coat.
"How are you going to get there?" inquired Mark.
"Oh, I've brought the car along with me. It's only round the corner at Higgins's place."
"You'll promise to be careful, won't you?" said Nancy rather anxiously. "I hate to let you out of my sight until those three men have been arrested."
"You needn't worry about them," returned Colin with a laugh. "They must have found out by now that they made a bloomer last night, and it's a hundred to one that the whole lot have skedaddled."
"Major Fenton won't have run away," persisted Nancy. "He has no idea that you saw him talking to Cooper, and there's nothing else to connect him with the affair."
"No, that's true," admitted Colin. "He must be feeling as sick as the devil, and probably in a blue funk as well, but the only thing he can do is to sit tight and hope for the best."
"Anyhow, he'll be lying fairly low for the moment," agreed Mark. "You bung along off, my son, and get back as soon as possible. You'll find Nancy and me here, unless we've burst with curiosity."
It was exactly on the stroke of a quarter past three when, with a sharp blast from his horn, Colin shot past the policeman on duty and pulled up neatly in the centre court of Scotland Yard. Before he could attempt to dismount two indignant constables were alongside of him.
"Who are you?" demanded one. "Don't you know it's against the regulations to bring in a car without permission?"
"Sorry," said Colin penitently. "The fact is, I've got a very urgent appointment with Inspector Marsden. He telephoned me to be here at a quarter past without fail."
"Well, you take my advice and be a bit more careful the next time," observed his interrogator, "or as likely as not you'll find yourself in trouble." He turned to his companion. "Better take him up at once. The Inspector's in his room."
Climbing out of the car and following his guide, Colin ascended the flight of stone stairs until they reached the same apartment to which Marsden had conducted him before. Having inquired his name, the constable rapped loudly, and in answer to a peremptory invitation pushed open the door and stepped briskly forward.
"Doctor Gray to see you by appointment, sir."
Marsden blotted the letter that he was writing and got up from his desk.
"Come along in, doctor," he called out; and then, as Colin entered, he pulled forward a chair and motioned the constable to withdraw.
"Take that seat," he added, directly the door was shut. "There's no time to waste, and I want to hear your story before we discuss anything else. Don't hurry, though; tell it me in your own way, just as you did when you described the murder."
Colin laid his hat on the floor, and, thrusting his hands in his pockets, commenced to speak.
In very much the same words that he had used to Mark he repeated the whole history of Fenton's relations with Nancy and himself, taking the utmost care to omit nothing which might have any conceivable bearing on the case. Then, still in the same methodical and detached fashion, he went on to relate the remainder of his story, while all the time the Inspector sat by in grim silence, his hard blue eyes fixed intently on his companion's face.
"I don't know how it strikes you," observed Colin, when he had quite finished, "but Nancy and I have been chewing it over pretty thoroughly, and we both think that it would take a damn sight more than a mere fit of jealousy to make Fenton risk his neck. We feel certain that there must be something much bigger at the back of it all, but beyond that we're absolutely gravelled."
Without replying, Marsden leaned forward and pulled open a drawer in his desk. He turned over some of its contents, and then, taking out an unmounted photograph, handed it to Colin.
"Do you recognize that?" he asked.
Colin sat up, with a sudden start of surprise.
"Recognize it!" he exclaimed. "Of course I do. It's 'Spike' Cooper."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. You don't suppose I'd forget his infernal face?" He inspected the picture carefully for several seconds, and then passed it back. "Where did you get hold of this?" he asked.
"It was sent to me three days ago by the Canadian police. Perhaps you would like to hear the letter that came with it."
He dived into the drawer again, and produced an official-looking sheet of blue paper.
"With reference to your inquiry of the 3d ult.," he read, "we now enclose the photograph, record, and finger prints of Luke Hammond, which were not included in our reply of the 15th. We have since ascertained that Hammond has left Canada and is probably in London."
"And whatishis record?" demanded Colin.
"Quite a useful one in its way," was the dry answer. "Two terms of imprisonment for housebreaking and one of ten years for robbery with violence. Our friends at Montreal seem to regard him as one of the show cases in their collection."
"Fenton has been in Canada," remarked Colin; "at least, so it said in that report you gave me. They probably met each other over there."
"Not a doubt of it," returned the detective, "and, what's more, I shouldn't be much surprised if he came to England on Fenton's invitation."
There was a pause. "We seem to be getting on," remarked Colin, "but, all the same, I'm hanged if I can make head or tail of it even now. Why on earth should a cashiered major and a Canadian crook be thirsting for my blood?"
Marsden replaced the paper and shut the drawer.
"Doctor Gray," he said, "have you any objection to leaving this entirely in my hands for the next twenty-four hours? I shall give instructions at once for the arrest of Cooper and Hudson, and you can take it from me that there are not likely to be any more attempts on your life. If it would make you more comfortable, I will arrange for you to be shadowed from the moment you leave this office."
"Good heavens, no!" exclaimed Colin. "It would make me feel as if I were a co-respondent in a divorce case. I should like to have had five minutes alone with the blighter who hit me on the head, but if it can't be managed I'm quite content to leave him to you." He took his hands from his pockets and sat up in his chair. "And now," he added, "what have you got to tell me? I'm dying to hear if you found out anything from this chap Kennedy."
Marsden glanced at his watch. "I have found out a good deal," he said, "and it was because I was anxious to talk it over with you that I asked you to come round. As things have turned out, however, it seemed to me more important that I should hear your story first. I am afraid now that we must put off our discussion until to-morrow. I have an appointment with the Commissioner in a few minutes, and it will probably be a couple of hours before I am free." He paused. "I don't mind telling you one thing, doctor, and that is that there are going to be some developments in this case that will probably give you the biggest surprise of your life."
Colin received the news with apparent calmness. "Really!" he observed. "Well, I ought to be able to stand them. I've had plenty of practice one way and another."
Marsden turned to a memorandum tablet that was lying on his desk, and studied it for a moment in silence.
"I want you all three to be here at two o'clock to-morrow punctually," he said, "you and this man Bates and Miss Seymour." He picked up a pencil. "By the way, has Miss Seymour any other Christian name besides Nancy?"
Colin shook his head. "Not that I know of."
"And her exact age?"
"She will be nineteen on the third of February." Marsden jotted down his reply, and then sat frowning thoughtfully at the pad.
"I suppose there's no more information you can give me in connection with her—no little fact or detail that you've forgotten to mention?"
Colin reflected. "By Jove, yes!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I've never told you that we're going to be married."
Allowing for the Inspector's naturally reserved manner, the effect of these few words was extraordinary. He pushed back his chair, stared for a moment half incredulously, and then, slapping his knee, broke into a loud and prolonged chuckle of laughter.
Before either of them could speak again there was a tap outside, and an apologetic constable presented himself in the doorway.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but the Commissioner is ready to see you."
With an abrupt change of manner Marsden rose to his feet.
"Thank you, Jackson," he said. "I will be down immediately."
Then, as the door closed, he took a step forward, and with another hearty chuckle gripped hold of Colin's hand.
"I congratulate you with all my heart, doctor," he said. "Unless I'm a damned fool, you're the luckiest man in England."
"More coffee?" suggested Mark.
Colin pushed over his cup, and, having taken possession of the last slice of toast, proceeded to scrape out the remainder of the marmalade.
"I seem to be eating rather a lot," he observed apologetically. "I suppose it's the result of being in love."
Mark laughed and glanced at the clock. "It seems to have affected Nancy in the same way. Anyhow, this is the first time I've ever known her late."
"You mustn't be brutal to her," said Colin; "it's all my fault. I took her out to supper after the theatre last night, and we didn't get back to her place until nearly one o'clock. I expect she was a bit sleepy this morning."
"Well, I'll try and overlook it for once," replied Mark generously. He produced his pipe, and, after stuffing the bowl with tobacco, tossed the pouch across the table. "What are your plans for this morning?" he inquired.
"I've got to find Joe," was the answer. "Marsden wants him at the Yard at two o'clock, so I must go along to the Palace and see if I can get hold of his address."
"You had better tell him to come here at half-past twelve," said Mark. "He can have some lunch with us, and then you can all go up together in the car."
"That's a bright idea," agreed Colin. "I'm afraid that, in one way and another, I'm becoming a bit of a nuisance, though."
"Not the slightest," returned Mark. "I'm enjoying myself immensely. It's so dull down here as a rule that any little thing like a love affair or an attempted murder is a perfect godsend."
He sauntered off to the surgery, and a few minutes later Colin, having scribbled a brief note to Nancy and left it on the hall table, was striding along the street in the direction of the Whitechapel Road.
No one could describe the thoroughfares through which he had to pass as picturesque or engaging, but in the crisp morning air, and with a yellow sun shining down from overhead, the two-mile walk was not without a certain attraction.
He was in the kind of mood, indeed, in which even the Dead Sea or the Sahara Desert would probably have appeared to possess some favourable features. Ever since he had discovered his real feelings toward Nancy the whole world seemed to have become an extraordinarily interesting and exciting place. At the present moment, both these sensations were intensified by the prospect of his approaching interview with Marsden. From the way in which the detective had spoken there could be little doubt that he had made some important discoveries, and the mere thought that in a few hours he might be helping to track down the Professor's murderer was sufficient in itself to set every nerve in Colin's body tingling with a fierce elation.
Half-an-hour's walk brought him to the Palace, a gaudy structure wedged in between two public houses. The only person about who appeared to have any connection with the establishment was an elderly man with a bucket of paste, who was leisurely engaged in affixing a poster to one of the two boards which decorated each side of the entrance.
Colin pulled up alongside of him.
"Do you happen to know where Joe Bates lives?" he asked.
The other paused in his work, and eyed him with some suspicion.
"Yus," he replied, "an' wot abaht it?"
"Nothing much," returned Colin. "I happen to be a pal of his, and I want to see him. My name's Doctor Gray."
The elderly man's expression changed instantly. "Ow," he remarked, "that's orl right. I've 'eard 'im speak o' you. You're the bloke as mended 'im up when 'e was in 'orspital? Thinks the world o' you, Joe does, an' no error."
"Well, in that case," said Colin, "perhaps you will trust me with his address?"
"Why, o' course," was the answer. "No offence, mister, but I didn't know who you was when you come askin' fust. Might 'a' been one o' these 'ere blarsted rate collectors." He laid down his brush, and, stepping out on the pavement, pointed across toward a narrow turning on the opposite side of the road. "You foller that," he said, "an' when you come to the last 'ouse on the right jest give a couple o' taps on the front winder."
Colin thanked him, and, crossing the street, made his way down the alley in question, until he arrived at the farther end. Joe's residence proved to be a single-fronted dwelling of grimy brick, the ground floor window of which opened on to the street. A square of not over-clean muslin had been nailed up inside, in order to secure the owner's privacy, but at Colin's second knock this obstruction was cautiously lifted, and Joe's face peered out inquiringly through the dirty glass.
On recognizing the visitor, it disappeared again at once, and the next moment a burly figure in trousers and shirt sleeves swung open the front door.
"Couldn't believe me own eyes, doctor," announced the prize-fighter with a grin of welcome. "'Ow the blazes did you manage to find your way 'ere?"
"I got your address from an elderly gentleman who was shoving up bills outside the Palace," said Colin. "He wouldn't part with it until I told him who I was."
"Ah, that'd be old Tom," returned Joe, nodding his head. "'E ain't the sort to let 'is mouth flap, not unless 'e's sure of 'is comp'ny." He stepped back into the passage, holding open the door. "Come along in, doctor. I ain't got much of a place, but, such as it is, you're more than welcome."
Colin followed his host into a tiny apartment on the left, on the walls of which were nailed up a number of coloured prints, representing various well-known boxers in highly aggressive attitudes. In the centre of the room stood a deal table, containing a couple of bottles of Bass and the smaller half of a brown loaf. A bed, a dilapidated chair, and an old packing-case, full of odds and ends, completed the remainder of the furniture.
"I was jest goin' to 'ave me breakfast," explained Joe, indicating the refreshments. "If you'd fancy a drop, guv'nor, I can borrow a glass from the bloke upstairs."
"Not for me, thanks," said Colin. "I always go to sleep if I drink beer in the morning, and besides, I have only looked in to tell you that you'll be wanted this afternoon."
Joe's eyes glistened. "Goin' to shove it across 'em?" he inquired eagerly.
"I wish we were," was Colin's reply, "but I'm afraid it's nothing as exciting as that. The fact is, I had a talk with Inspector Marsden yesterday, and he wants you and me and Miss Seymour to meet him at Scotland Yard at two o'clock."
For a moment Joe seemed somewhat taken aback.
"If them's the orders," he said at last, "there ain't no more to be said abaht it. I never thought to see meself walkin' in there, though, not of me own accord."
"They'll be civil enough," said Colin. "They only want to hear your story about getting me out of the cellar."
"I daresay you're right," admitted Joe doubtfully. "I ain't got nothin' special against the perlice; all I says is that the less you 'as to do with 'em the better." He paused. "Wot's the programme, guv'nor? Do I jest step up to the front door an' 'and in me card?"
"Doctor Ashton suggested that you should come round to the surgery. Then you can have some grub and drive up with us."
Joe shook his head. "Thankin' yer kindly, but if it's all the same I reckon I'll meet yer there. I gotter couple o' torfs comin' to the Palace for a lesson this mornin', an' it means a quid to me if I let 'em knock me abaht a bit."
"That's all right," said Colin, "as long as I can depend on you to keep the appointment."
"I'll be there, doctor," replied Joe. "I'll be there, honest to Gawd. You bring the young laidy along in the car, and yer'll find me sittin' on the Embankment waitin' for yer."
Satisfied with this assurance, Colin took his departure, and, retracing his steps to the end of the street, made his way back to Shadwell by the same route that he had come.
As he opened the door of the house he saw to his surprise that the note which he had left for Nancy was still lying on the hall table. Before he had time to realize anything further Mark suddenly appeared from the surgery.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Colin. "I made sure you'd be out on your round."
"So I ought to be," replied Mark, "but, as a matter of fact, I was waiting for you."
"What's the matter?"
"I'm rather worried about Nancy. She's never turned up, and there's been no message from her."
Colin's whole figure stiffened abruptly.
"No message?" he repeated.
"Nothing. I can't understand it at all. If she's ill, surely she'd have let us know."
Without a word Colin swung round sharply, and, striding toward the pegs, unhooked his coat.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Mark.
"I'll get out the car and drive up there at once," he said. "Can you stop in for another twenty minutes? I'll telephone you directly I find out what's the matter."
Mark nodded. "Keep steady, old son. I expect it will be all right. There's probably some quite simple explanation."
Colin moistened his lips. "We were mad ever to let her leave the house," he said hoarsely. "If any harm's come to her I'll kill Fenton with my own hands."
As he spoke the clock on the stairs chimed out eleven-thirty, and, turning hastily to the door, he hurried out again into the street.
If there is any truth in the theory that each of us possesses a guardian angel, the fact that a quarter of an hour later Colin drew up safely at the corner of Jubilee Place must be regarded as an amazing tribute to the efficiency of his own particular escort.
Leaving the car in the gutter, he jumped out on to the pavement, and the next moment he was mounting the narrow staircase which led up to the first landing.
There were two studios on this floor, the one which Nancy rented being distinguished by a small brass knocker. Catching hold of the knob, Colin rapped loudly, and then, bending down, lifted up the flap of the letter box.
"Nancy," he called out, "are you there? It is I—Colin." There was no answer.
He straightened himself slowly, and as he did so the door of the second studio was pulled back and a girl appeared in the opening. She was a fair-haired, cheerful-looking girl, wearing a brown overall and smoking a cigarette.
"Excuse my butting in," she said, "but do you want to speak to Miss Seymour?"
Colin took off his hat. "I do," he said, "rather particularly."
"Well, I'm afraid it's no good waiting," was the answer. "She went out just after eight o'clock this morning, and I know she won't be back till late, because she asked me to take in a parcel for her."
"I suppose you don't happen to know where she was going to?" asked Colin. "Please forgive my curiosity, but I am a friend of Doctor Ashton's, for whom Miss Seymour works, and as she hasn't turned up and has sent no message, we are both feeling rather anxious about her."
"She has gone to see her lawyer," replied the girl. "He sent a car around to fetch her, that's why she went off in such a hurry."
Colin stared at her in astonishment. "Her lawyer?" he repeated.
"That's what she told me. I think from the way she spoke he wanted to see her suddenly about some important business. Anyhow, I know the chauffeur brought a letter with him, because she had it in her hand."
"Did you notice the man?" demanded Colin, "Would you be able to describe him again?"
The girl raised her eyebrows. "I don't suppose so," she said coolly. "He was on the landing, but it doesn't happen to be a habit of mine to stare at chauffeurs."
With a big effort Colin pulled himself together.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "Perhaps I ought to explain. Miss Seymour and I are engaged to be married, so you will understand why I'm feeling worried about this sudden disappearance of hers."
The girl looked up at him sympathetically. "Why, of course," she replied, "but surely there's no reason to be alarmed? I expect she intended to ring up when she reached the lawyer's office, and then something came along and put it out of her head. She has probably done so by now."
"It won't take me long to find out, anyhow," said Colin. He paused. "Are you likely to be at home the rest of the day?" he asked.
His companion nodded. "Yes," she said. "I live here. I'm an artist."
"Then, just in case Miss Seymour does come home, would you mind asking her to let Doctor Ashton know immediately?"
"Certainly I will," said the girl. "Even if I don't hear her, she's sure to look in in order to see about the parcel." She hesitated. "I—I should like to congratulate you, if I may," she added. "I don't know Miss Seymour very well—I have only been in this studio a few weeks—but one's merely got to speak to her to see that she's a perfect dear."
In spite of his anxiety, Colin smiled at her gratefully.
"Thank you so much," he said. "I'll tell Nancy what a brick you've been."
He shook her hand and, leaving her standing in the doorway, hurried downstairs again into the street.
There was a chemist's shop at the corner which boasted a public telephone, and, entering the box, he rang up Mark.
"No news here," came the reply in answer to his first inquiry. "How about you?"
In a few words Colin acquainted him with the story he had just been told, giving the bare facts exactly as he had heard them from the girl.
"It seems a devilish queer business," was Mark's comment, after a short pause. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I know the name of her lawyer at Helston," said Colin. "It's Penwarren. I shall send a telegram at once to find out whether he's in London."
"And suppose he's not?"
"In that case there's only one explanation. She's in the hands of that brute Fenton, and——"
"Look here," broke in Mark, "shall I come up and join you? I can easily put off my round until this evening."
"I would rather you stayed at the surgery for the present," replied Colin. "A message might come through from Nancy any time, and I shall have to give Penwarren your address so that he can have somewhere to reply to. I'll ring you up again about half-past one, before I see Marsden. We ought to have an answer by then."
"I'll be here," said Mark. "Don't you worry more than you can help. Even if you're right, Nancy can't be in any real danger; the police will have her back in a few hours."
"Please God," said Colin fervently.
He replaced the receiver, and, leaving the shop, walked on quickly up the King's Road until he reached the post office. Here, after destroying two previous attempts, he wrote out the following wire, which he signed in Mark's name:
"I shall be very grateful if you will let me know immediately whether Mr. Penwarren is in London and whether he has any business to discuss with Miss Nancy Seymour. Miss Seymour is in my employment. The matter is extremely urgent."
He handed this to the girl behind the counter, and, having paid for a reply, made his way back to where he had left the car.
He had done everything he could think of for the present, but the knowledge of this fact deepened rather than lessened his anxiety. The whole affair was so extraordinary that he had an instinctive feeling that there must be something evil at the back of it. Was it likely or even possible that the summons which Nancy had received could really have come from Mr. Penwarren? Even if he were in town, for what conceivable reason could he have sent to fetch her at eight o'clock in the morning? And yet, knowing Nancy's character, it seemed equally incredible that she should have left the studio under such circumstances, without being absolutely convinced that the message was a genuine one.
If she had fallen into a trap, there could be no doubt whose hand had set it. The affair in Flood Lane proved that, whatever motive lurked behind Fenton's proceedings, he had now reached a point where nothing would be allowed to stand in his way. He was certainly quite capable of having abducted Nancy, though, in view of the hue and cry which he must have known would immediately follow, it was difficult to imagine how he could have hoped to avoid discovery. From all appearances it seemed to be either the work of a madman, or else the final stroke in some deliberate scheme, the apparent weaknesses of which had been carefully guarded against.
It was the dread of this latter alternative which was clutching at Colin's heart as he once more reached the corner of Jubilee Place. Should it prove to be the true explanation, every minute was obviously of the greatest value, and the prospect of remaining idle for the next two hours filled him with an almost intolerable revolt.
Unless he could get hold of Marsden personally, however, it seemed useless to communicate with the police until he had received a reply from Helston. They were not likely to take action on mere suspicion, especially when the Inspector himself had promised to be on the spot at two o'clock. As to whether there was any chance of his arriving earlier Colin had no idea, but, since the only other course was to do nothing, he decided that he might just as well drive up to Whitehall straight away.
With this resolve he started the car, and, turning down through Burton Court on to the Embankment, swung round to the left in the direction of Westminster Bridge. A sharp run of about seven minutes brought him to the Yard gates, where, as usual, a couple of stalwart-looking constables were standing on duty. Colin recognized one of them as his acquaintance of the previous day, and with a friendly nod he pulled up alongside.
"That's all right, sir," observed the man approvingly. "No objection to your coming in now we know who you are."
Colin leaned forward from the driving seat.
"Do you happen to know whether Mr. Marsden is about anywhere?" he asked. "He made an appointment with me for two o'clock, but something rather important has cropped up, and if possible I should like to see him at once."
"He hasn't been in this way," was the policeman's answer, "but he might have come along by one of the other entrances. You can go inside and inquire, if you like. The officer on duty will be able to find out for you."
Colin thanked him, and, steering his car through the gates, came to a halt in front of the broad flight of steps which led up to the main door.
Another constable advanced inquiringly.
"I don't think so," he replied, in answer to Colin's question; "but if you like to wait a moment I can let you know for certain."
He disappeared within the building, returning after a short absence with a significant shake of his head.
"No one's heard anything of him yet, sir. They expect him at two o'clock, though."
"I know," said Colin. "I've got an appointment with him." He paused. "Can I leave the car here until then?"
The constable scratched his head. "Well, this ain't exactly a garage," he replied doubtfully. "Still, if you back her up quite into that corner——"
He turned aside as he spoke, and, pocketing the five shillings which Colin slipped into his hand, sauntered back to his former position.
* * * * * * * * *
With the best part of an hour and a half before him Colin came out into Whitehall and paused irresolutely on the edge of the pavement. Of all the tasks with which an impatient man can be confronted, that of killing time is perhaps the most trying. He was not in the least hungry, and, in any case, there was something ghastly in the thought of sitting all that while in a half-empty restaurant, brooding miserably over what might have happened to Nancy. If he wished to keep his nerves steady, it seemed to him that some form of exercise was imperatively needed, and, without hesitating further he made his way across Parliament Green, and struck off westward along the Embankment.
The soundness of his instinct was proved by the fact that when he arrived back at Westminster Bridge, after a vigorous tramp of about six miles, he felt that, whatever the next few hours might bring, his mind and judgment were once more under proper control. The hands of Big Ben were already at five and twenty minutes to two, and, knowing that there was a public telephone in the station, he crossed the road and entered the box. After a brief delay he succeeded in getting Mark's number.
"That you, Colin?" came the latter's voice. "Yes, I've just got an answer to the wire. It arrived a few minutes ago. If you hold on I'll read it out to you." There was a pause. "'Mr. Penwarren is ill in bed at Helston. As far as we are aware he has had no communication with Miss Seymour for the last eighteen months. Should be glad of an explanation.'"
"It's only what I expected," said Colin quietly. "There must be something wrong, or Nancy would have let us know long before this."
"Have you told the police?"
"Not yet. I went up to the Yard, but Marsden hadn't arrived, so I thought I'd better wait until we got the reply from Helston."
"Where are you telephoning from?"
"Westminster Bridge Station. I've arranged to meet Joe close by here, and, unless anything's happened, he ought to be along in a few minutes. By that time Marsden will probably have turned up."
There was a pause.
"Well, I'm ready when you want me," observed Mark. "In case there's going to be trouble, you can count me in to the limit."
"I know that," returned Colin gratefully. "If there's any possible way in which you can be of help I'll ring you up and let you know."
He put down the receiver, and, leaving the station, walked slowly round the corner on to the Embankment. A few yards past the entrance to the Yard, on the opposite side of the road, were a couple of empty seats facing the river. He crossed over toward the first one, and, having lighted himself a cigarette, sat down patiently to wait for Joe.
Just as the opening strokes of a quarter to two were chiming out from the clock tower, the latter made his appearance. In a quiet and unobtrusive fashion he slipped suddenly into view round the pedestal of Boadicea's statue, and at the same moment a grin of recognition broke over his face as his eyes lit upon Colin. He quickened his steps, and came rapidly up to the seat.
"Thought you might be early, doctor," he began, "so I come along a bit ahead o' me time on purpose." He looked round inquiringly. "But where's the young laidy?"
Colin, who had thrown away his cigarette, rose to his feet. "I've got some bad news for you, Joe," he said. "Miss Seymour has disappeared."
Joe's mouth opened, and he gazed blankly at his companion.
"Disappeared!" he repeated.
"She was taken away in a car at eight o'clock this morning. Some one tricked her into leaving the studio by means of a false message."
With a muttered oath Joe clutched him by the arm.
"Wot, the saime swine that tried to do you in?"
Colin nodded. "Unless I'm wrong, it's the man I spoke to you about—Major Fenton; the one who was talking to 'Spike' Cooper outside the station."
"Well, if yer knows that," exclaimed Joe, "wot the 'ell are we messin' abaht 'ere for? Why don't we go an' wring 'is blarsted neck?"
"Because we've got to find him first," returned Colin curtly. "That's why I've been waiting to keep this appointment with the Inspector. The police are after him too, so they may be able to help us."
Joe wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"For Gawd's sake let's get over and see 'em, guv'nor. I wouldn't 'ave no 'arm come to that young laidy, not for all the money in the Bank of England."
Colin gave a queer laugh. "I think I can understand the feeling," he said.
They crossed the road toward the Yard, where the same two constables were still on duty.
"You're all right now, mister," remarked one of them. "I saw him come in by the other way a few minutes ago."
With a nod of thanks Colin passed through the gates, and, followed by Joe, who kept casting mistrustful glances to right and left, walked rapidly up to the main entrance.
The recipient of his five-shilling tip stepped forward to meet him.
"Mr. Marsden has just come, sir," he announced. "Told me that when you and your party arrived I was to bring you in straight away."
"Well, this is my party," said Colin. "At least, all of it that's likely to turn up."
He beckoned to Joe, who had halted a couple of paces in the rear, and, mounting the steps, the two of them followed the constable into the building. He led the way up the staircase to Marsden's room, where, in response to his knock, the Inspector himself opened the door. Over his shoulder Colin caught sight of another man in plain clothes, who was standing with his back to the fire.
"Come along in, doctor," exclaimed the detective. "I've got some one here you ought to know—Inspector Ainsworth, of the Investigation Department. He has been doing some rather useful work for you during the last twenty-four hours."
Colin shook hands with his new acquaintance, a stout, gray-haired individual, who eyed him with considerable interest.
"And this is our friend Bates, eh?" continued Marsden, turning a sharp glance on Joe. "But where's Miss Seymour? I thought you were going to bring her with you."
"You had better hear what I've got to tell you straight away," said Colin. "Miss Seymour never came to Shadwell this morning. I went up to her flat just before midday, and I found out from the girl next door that someone had called for her in a car at eight o'clock with a letter from her lawyer in Cornwall."
"What, Penwarren?" broke out Marsden. "Impossible! Why, he's seriously ill down at Helston."
"I know," said Colin. "I sent him a wire at once and I've just got the answer. The letter was a forgery.