blushed.

"I knew you'd understand," he said. "You guessed that I meant Cayley?"

"I did. It was the least I could do after you had been so brilliant. You
must have had rather an exciting time."

"Exciting? Good Lord, I should think it was."

"Tell me about it."

As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his qualifications for a
life on the stage.

"Good man," said Antony at the end of it. "You are the most perfect
Watson that ever lived. Bill, my lad," he went on dramatically, rising
and taking Bill's hand in both of his, "There is nothing that you and I
could not accomplish together, if we gave our minds to it."

"Silly old ass."

"That's what you always say when I'm being serious. Well, anyway, thanks
awfully. You really saved us this time."

"Were you coming back?"

"Yes. At least I think I was. I was just wondering when I heard you
tapping. The fact of the door being shut was rather surprising. Of
course the whole idea was to see if it could be opened easily from the
other side, but I felt somehow that you wouldn't shut it until the last
possible moment--until you saw me coming back. Well, then I heard the
taps, and I knew it must mean something, so I sat tight. Then when C
began to come along I said, 'Cayley, b'Jove'--bright, aren't I?--and I
simply hared to the other end of the passage for all I was worth. And
hared back again. Because I thought you might be getting rather involved
in explanations--about where I was, and so on."

"You didn't see Mark, then?"

"No. Nor his--No, I didn't see anything."

"Nor what?"

Antony was silent for a moment.

"I didn't see anything, Bill. Or rather, I did see something; I saw a
door in the wall, a cupboard. And it's locked. So if there's anything we
want to find, that's where it is."

"Could Mark be hiding there?"

"I called through the keyhole in a whisper 'Mark, are you there?' he
would have thought it was Cayley. There was no answer.

"Well, let's go down and try again. We might be able to get the door
open."

Antony shook his head.

"Aren't I going at all?" said Bill in great disappointment.

When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:

"Can Cayley drive a car?"

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off to
Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?"

"I suppose so if he wanted to."

"Yes." Antony got up. "Well, look here, as we said we were going into
the village, and as w