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back and thoroughly examine that flat in John Street.”

“And, I suppose, in view of the evidence supplied by Macpherson, set up a search for Ambrose?” suggested Hetherwick.

“To be sure! We’ll get out a ‘tracked by the police’ notice, describing him to the best of our power,” replied Matherfield. “But I’ll tell you⁠—in my opinion it’ll be a stiff job getting hold of him. If you want my opinion, as a private individual, he’s probably got that secret invention of Hannaford’s and gone off across the Atlantic with it⁠—to turn it into money.”

“That’s very likely,” assented Hetherwick. “But what about Baseverie?”

“I’m not so much concerned about him now,” said Matherfield. “Ambrose seems to be the man I want⁠—first, anyway. But I shall do what I can to get hold of Baseverie. If these Penteney and Blenkinsop people had only come to us instead of laying plans of their own, some good would have been done. I shouldn’t have let the man got away!”

“My belief,” observed Hetherwick, “is that Baseverie and Ambrose are partners in this affair. And⁠—how do we know that they didn’t meet at Dover, and that they haven’t gone off together?”

Still wondering about this, Hetherwick next morning went round to Lincoln’s Inn Fields and asked to see one of the partners. He was shown into the room in which he and Matherfield had had their interview on the previous day. But he found Major Penteney alone. Blenkinsop, remarked the junior partner, had business in the Courts that morning.

“I called,” explained Hetherwick, “to ask if you had any more information about Baseverie’s disappearance at Dover.”

Penteney made a wry face.

“More vexed than ever about that!” he answered. “Most inexcusably stupid conduct on the part of our man⁠—man we’ve always found so reliable previously. He came back yesterday afternoon, crestfallen, told us all about it, and got a jolly good wigging. He’d done well at first. Tracked his man from Riversreade Court to Dorking, and thence to Redhill, and thence to Dover, after one or two changes. Baseverie put up at some hotel⁠—I forget which⁠—near the harbour; our man, certain that Baseverie was quite unconscious that he was being followed, put up there, too. Nothing happened. He saw Baseverie at dinner that night, saw him in the smoking-room after; in fact, he had a game of billiards with him, and saw him retire to bed; their rooms were adjacent. He felt sure of seeing him at breakfast, but when he went down he found that the bird had flown⁠—flown, said the night porter, before six o’clock; he didn’t know where. Nor could our man trace him at station or pier, or anywhere.”

“Careless sort of watching,” said Hetherwick.

“Worse than careless!” agreed Penteney. “As I said, he caught it hot. But now⁠—”

The telephone bell on Blenkinsop’s desk rang. With a word of excuse Penteney turned to it. A moment later a smothered ejaculation of surprise came from him, followed by a sharp interrogation on his part. Suddenly he turned on Hetherwick.

“Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “What’s all this? This is Lady Riversreade speaking. She says her sister, who came yesterday, and Miss Featherstone have been kidnapped! Kidnapped⁠—this morning!”

Hetherwick leapt to his feet with a sharp exclamation⁠—half amazed, half incredulous. But already his thoughts were with Rhona; he saw the dangers of the situation for her as Penteney could not see them.

“Impossible!” he said. “Kidnapped! in broad daylight? And⁠—from there?”

But Penteney was still busy at the telephone, giving and receiving rapid answers.

“Yes, yes!” he was saying. “To be sure!⁠—police⁠—yes! I’m coming straight there now⁠—car⁠—tell the police to get busy.”

He turned sharply to Hetherwick as he laid down the instrument.

“Fear there’s no impossibility about it!” he said. “Lady Riversreade says they were carried off as they crossed from the Court to the Home⁠—she’s heard something of a big car with strange men in it. I’m going down there at once⁠—there’s more in this affair than one sees at first.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Hetherwick. “Where can we get a car⁠—a fast one?”

“Garage close by, in Kingsway,” answered Penteney, hurriedly seizing on one of several greatcoats that hung in a recess. “Here!⁠—get into one of these⁠—you’re about my height, and the air’s still nippy, motoring. Now come on⁠—we’ll be there in under the hour. You know,” he continued, as they left the office and hastened towards Kingsway, “I think I see through something of this already, Hetherwick. These fellows probably believed they were kidnapping Lady Riversreade!⁠—and got her sister in mistake for her. Ransom, you know! The blackmailing dodge failed⁠—now they’re trying this. A desperate and daredevil lot, evidently!”

Hetherwick nodded a silent assent. He was wondering whether or not to tell Penteney that the Miss Featherstone of whom he had just spoken was in reality the granddaughter of the man whose mysterious murder appeared to be the starting-point of the more recent, equally mysterious events. That fact, it seemed to him, would have to come out sooner or later⁠—and there might be possible complications, perhaps unpleasantness, when Lady Riversreade discovered that Rhona had gone to her as a spy. Might it not be well to take Penteney into his confidence and explain matters? But, on reflection, he decided to wait until they knew the exact situation at Riversreade Court; so far, in spite of Lady Riversreade’s news he felt it difficult to believe that two women, one of them, to his knowledge, a girl of character and resource, and the other a woman of the world, used to travelling and to adventure, could be carried off in broad daylight in immediate prospect of two large houses⁠—the thing seemed impossible.

XIX The London Road

Some fifty minutes later, the big, powerful car, which Penteney had commissioned in Kingsway, dashed up to Riversreade Court. Hetherwick found that there had been no exaggeration in Lady Riversreade’s telephone message. She herself came hurrying out to meet them; there were men standing about the terrace outside and others visible in the park; a couple of uniformed policemen followed Lady

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