y that
Arnold, in a moment or two, found himself sharing her merriment.

"It is all very well," he said presently, "but I am not at all sure
that adventures do not sometimes come even to Tooley Street."

She shook her head.

"I shall never believe it. Tell me now about Mr. Weatherley? Was he
very sorry when he arrived for having caused you so much anxiety?"

"I have not yet seen Mr. Weatherley," Arnold replied. "Up till the
time when I left the office, he had not arrived."

She set down the glass which she had been in the act of raising to
her lips. For the first time she seemed to take this matter
seriously.

"What time was that?" she asked.

"Ten minutes past twelve."

She frowned.

"It certainly does begin to look a little queer," she admitted. "Do
you think that he has met with an accident?"

"We have already tried the hospitals and the police station," he
told her.

She looked at him steadfastly.

"You have an idea--you have some idea of what has happened," she
said.

"Nothing definite," Arnold replied, gravely. "I cannot imagine what
it all means, but I believe that Mr. Weatherley has disappeared."

CHAPTER XXVI

ARNOLD BECOMES INQUISITIVE

For several moments Fenella sat quite still. She was suddenly an
altered woman. All the natural gayety and vivacity seemed to have
faded from her features. There were suggestions of another self,
zealously kept concealed. It was a curious revelation. Even her
tone, when she spoke, was altered. The words seemed to be dragged
from her lips.

"You have some reason for saying this," she murmured.

"I have," Arnold admitted.

Just then the waiter entered the room, bringing in a portion of the
lunch which they had ordered. Fenella rose and walked to a mirror
at the other end of the apartment. She stood there powdering her
cheeks for a moment, with her back turned to Arnold. When the
waiter had gone, she returned, humming a tune. Her effort at
self-rehabilitation was obvious.

"You gave me a shock, my friend," she declared, sitting down.
"Please do not do it again. I am not accustomed to having things put
to me quite so plainly."

"I am sorry," Arnold said. "It was hideously clumsy of me."

"It is of no consequence now," she continued. "Please to give me
some of that red wine and go on with your story. Tell me exactly
what you mean!"

"It is simply this," Arnold explained. "A few days ago, I noticed
that Mr. Weatherley was busy writing for sev