rom the motor-car
by springing out in the early hours of this morning, whilst the car was
going at a slackened speed."

"That is it," said the other. "I have not the slightest idea where I am;
perhaps you can tell me?"

"You are near Great Bradley," said T. B., with a smile. "I wonder you do
not recognize your home; for home it is, as I understand."

Frank looked round with astonished eyes.

"What were they bringing me here for?" he demanded.

"That remains to be discovered," replied T. B.; "my own impression is
that you----"

"Do you think I was being taken to the Secret House?" interrupted the
young man, suddenly.

T. B. shook his head.

"I should think that was unlikely. I suspect our friend Poltavo of
having carried out this little coup entirely on his own. I further
suspect his having brought the car in this direction with no other
object than to throw suspicion upon our worthy friends across the
hill--and how did you come to the outhouse?"

"I was dead beat," explained Frank. "I had a sudden spasm of strength
which enabled me to out-distance those people who were pursuing me, but
after I had shaken them off I felt that I could drop. I came upon this
cottage, which seemed the only habitation in view, and after
endeavouring to waken the occupants I did the next best thing, I made my
way into the coachhouse and fell asleep."

T. B. had no misgivings so far as this story was concerned; he accepted
it as adding only another obstacle to the difficulties of his already
difficult task.

"You heard no sound whilst you lay there?"

"None whatever," said the young man.

"No sound of a struggle, I mean," said T. B., and then it was that he
explained to Frank Doughton the extraordinary disappearance of the owner
of Moor Cottage.

"She must be in the house," said Frank.

They went back and resumed their search. Upstairs was a bedroom, and
adjoining a bath-room. On the ground floor were two rooms: the study he
had quitted and a smaller room beautifully decorated and containing a
piano. But the search was fruitless; Lady Constance Dex had disappeared
as though the earth had opened and swallowed her up. There was no sign
of a trap in the whole of the little building, and T. B. was baffled.

"It is a scientific axiom," he said, addressing Ela with a thoughtful
glint in his eye, "that matter must occupy space, therefore Lady
Constance Dex must be in existence, she cannot have evaporated into thin
air, and I am