at his kind offices would not
be needed, and that the lies he had framed might remain unspoken. For
the electric torch which he flashed on the gloomy interior showed it to
be untenanted, while the gaping hole in the roof told of the way of
escape.

Nugent stared at the improvised ladder of fertilizer kegs, and at the
aperture overhead, with a thoughtful frown.

"That is hardly girl's work, yet she cannot have had help," he muttered.
"If she had contrived to attract attention, no one would have been at
the pains of breaking open the roof for her when the key was on the
outside of the door all the time. Certainly she had hours to do it in;
and she's more than half a boy."

He turned away, and, crossing the dewy lawn, entered his library by the
unfastened French window. The shaded lamp had been lit, shedding a
pleasant glow over the cosy bachelor room, and he gave a little sigh of
content. He was fain to admit that he was tired with the day's
exertions, and glad to be home again. He rang the bell, and the
soft-footed Sinnett appeared.

"Mix me some whisky and soda water and give me a cigar," he said. "You
have nothing out of the common to report?"

"Nothing that you do not know already, sir," was the reply. "Tuke will
have informed you about Miss Mallory and the stone grotto."

"That is why I asked," rejoined Nugent. "The young lady has gone, and
part of the roof of the grotto has been removed. You have heard or seen
nothing that would account for it?"

"Nothing at all, sir. I have not been in the garden, but no sound
reached me in the house. And I have been listening--in case she called
out."

Nugent nodded, knowing the man's ways. "And that mad French seller of
onions, he has not been here to-day?" he continued.

"No, sir; I haven't seen him for a day or two."

"Thank you, Sinnett. Then that will be all now I think. Don't go to bed
just yet. I may want you to go out and post a letter for the early
collection."

The butler having retired, Nugent lay back in his luxurious lounge-chair
and sipped his drink and watched the blue wreaths from his Havana
coiling upwards. He was filled with a delightful sense of achievement.
The thing which had seemed so easy at first, and had then threatened
dire failure through Chermside's defection, had been carried out in
spite of the temporary obstacle. That band of electric light stealing
away across the dark sea had been the signal that he had won the game,
the stakes of wh