nd lock it after him, he chose to get out of
this window, and to go down by means of that wistaria. I think, too, we
may decide that, as he left no note to explain his absence, he expected
to return before morning, and that, as he never did return, he has met
with foul play. Of course, it is no use looking for footprints in the
garden in support of this hypothesis, for the storm that night was a
very severe one and quite sufficient to blot out all trace of them;
but---- Look here, Mr. Narkom, put two and two together. If a message
was sent him by a carrier pigeon, where must that pigeon have come
from, since it was one of Miss Morrison's?"

"Why, from Van Nant's place, of course. It couldn't possibly come from
any other."

"Exactly. And as Van Nant and Carboys lived together--kept bachelor
hall--and there was never anybody but their two selves in the house at
any time, why, nobody but Van Nant himself could have despatched the
bird. Look at that fragment of burnt paper lying in the basin of that
candlestick on the washstand. If that isn't all that's left of the paper
that was tied under the pigeon's wing, and if Carboys didn't use it for
the purpose of lighting the spirit lamp by which he heated his shaving
water, depend upon it that, in his haste and excitement, he tucked it
into his pocket, and if ever we find his body we shall find that paper
on it."

"His body? My dear Cleek, you don't believe that the man has been
murdered?"

"I don't know--yet. I shall, however, if this Van Nant puts anything in
the way of my searching that house thoroughly or makes any pretext to
follow me whilst I am doing so. I want to meet this Maurice Van Nant
just as soon as I can, Mr. Narkom, just as soon as I can."

And it was barely two minutes after he had expressed this wish that Miss
Morrison reappeared upon the scene accompanied by a pale, nervous,
bovine-eyed man of about thirty-five years of age, and said in a tone of
agitation: "Pardon me for interrupting, Mr. Headland, but this is Mr.
Maurice Van Nant. He is most anxious to meet you, and father would have
me bring him up at once."

Narkom screwed round on his heel, looked at the Belgian, and lost faith
in Miss Morrison's powers of discrimination instantly. On the
dressing-table stood Carboys' picture--heavy-jowled, sleepy-eyed,
dull-looking, and on the threshold stood a man with the kindest eyes,
the sweetest smile, and the handsomest and most sympathetic countenance
he ha