my neighbour at home.
There have been several people enquiring for him to-night, without any
result."

John Dory came slowly across the landing.

"Good evening, Mr. Ruff!" he said.

"Why, it's Mr. Dory!" Peter Ruff declared. "Come in, do, and have a
drink."

John Dory accepted the invitation, and his eyes were busy in that little
sitting room during the few minutes which it took his host to mix that
whisky and soda.

"Nothing wrong with our friend opposite, I hope?" Peter Ruff asked,
jerking his head across the landing.

"I hope not, Mr. Ruff," John Dory said. "No doubt in the morning he will
be able to explain everything. I must say that I should like to see him
to-night, though."

"He may turn up yet," Peter Ruff remarked, cheerfully. "He's like
myself--a late bird."

"I fear not," Dory answered, drily. "Nice rooms you have here, sir. Just
a sitting room and bedroom, eh?"

Peter Ruff stood up and threw open the door of the inner apartment.

"That's so," he answered. "Care to have a look round?"

The detective did look round, and pretty thoroughly. As soon as he was
sure that there was no one concealed upon the premises, he drank his
whisky and soda and went.

"I'll look in again to see Cawdor," he remarked--"to-morrow, perhaps, or
the next day."

"I'll let him know if I see him about," Peter Ruff declared. "Sorry the
lift's stopped. Three steps to the left and straight on. Good-night!"

Miss Brown arrived early the following morning, and was disposed to be
inquisitive.

"I should like to know," she said, "exactly what has become of Mr.
Vincent Cawdor."

Peter Ruff took her upstairs. There was a little mound of ashes in the
grate.

She nodded.

"I imagined that," she said. "But why did you send me out to watch
yourself?"

"My dear Violet," Peter Ruff answered, "there is no man in the world
to-day who is my equal in the art of disguising himself. At the same
time, I wanted to know whether I could deceive you. I wanted to be quite
sure that my study of Mr. Vincent Cawdor was a safe one. I took those
rooms in his name and in his own person. I do not think that it occurred
even to our friend John Dory to connect us in his mind."

"Very well," she went on. "Now tell me, please, what took you up to
Westmoreland?"

"I followed Rounceby and Marnstam," he answered, "I knew them when I was
abroad, studying crime--I could tell you a good deal about both those
men if it were worth while--and I k