draughts," said the doctor, shaking his head. "Got a penknife, West?"

West nodded. He whipped the knife out of his pocket and began
methodically to work at the worn lock with all the precision of an
experienced burglar. But the action brought no smile to his lips, no
little mocking jest to help on the job. There was something grim in the
set of West's lips, and in the tension of the doctor's slight figure.
Tragedy had stalked unnoticed into the Towers that evening and they had
become enmeshed in the folds of its cloak. They felt it in the cold
clamminess of the atmosphere, in the quiet peace of the long corridors.

Finally the thing was done. West turned the handle and the door swung
inward. The doctor crossed to the bedside and took hold of the sleeping
man's shoulder. He shook it vigorously.

"Nigel!" he called sharply once or twice. "Wake up! Wake up!"

But Merriton never moved. The performance was repeated and the call was
louder.

"Nigel! I say, wake up--wake up! We've news for you!"

The sleeping man stirred suddenly and wrenched his shoulder away.

"Let go of me, Wynne, damn you!" he broke out petulantly, his eyes
opening. "I've beaten you this time, anyhow, so part of our score is
marked off! Let go, I say--I--I--_Doctor Bartholomew_! What in Heaven's
name's the matter? I've been asleep, haven't I? What is it? You look as
though you had seen a ghost!"

He was thoroughly awake now, and struggled to a sitting position. The
doctor's face twisted wryly.

"I--wish I had, Nigel," he said bitterly. "Even ghosts would be better
than--nothing at all. We've been out searching for Wynne, and I--"

"_Been out?_"

"Yes, across the Fens. We were anxious. Wynne didn't come back, you know,
and so after we'd got you to bed we thought we'd make up a search party
among ourselves and look into the thing. But we haven't found him, Nigel.
He's vanished--completely!"

"Impossible!"

Merriton was out of bed now, still staring sleepily at them. Something in
the boyishness of him struck a chord of sympathy in the doctor's heart.
He alone of all of them had guessed at the genuineness of Nigel's fear
for Wynne, he alone had seen into the man's heart, and discovered the
half-belief that lurked there.

"I'm afraid it's perfectly true," he said quietly, as Merriton came to
him and caught him by the arm, his face white. "We followed his tracks
across the Fens--it had been raining and it was extremely easy to
do--until they