sure to him. He had acted
promptly enough on that piece of information, but once again he was too
late.

Austin Turold might have felt reassured if he had known how little his
share in the events of that night occupied Barrant's mind during their
last interview. The complexion Austin's conduct bore to the detective's
reflection was that of a father who had intentionally misled the power of
authority in order to shield his son. The law took a serious view of that
offense, but it was a matter which could be dealt with at leisure in
Austin's case. By his brother's death Austin Turold had become a man of
property and standing. It was the drawback of his wealth that he could not
disappear like his son. He was to be found when wanted. The main thing
just then was to catch the son, or the girl--or both. Barrant went back to
London for that purpose.

As the days slipped away without that end being achieved he became worried
and perplexed. His own position was an unenviable one, and his thoughts
were far from pleasant. He felt that he had failed badly, and that his
standing with his superiors in Scotland Yard was under a cloud in
consequence. But he could not see where he had actually been at fault. It
was such a damned amazing case. In most crimes the trouble was to find
sufficient clues, but in this case there were too many. And the inferences
pointed different ways. That was the trouble. He was not even sure that in
this latest discovery, so annoyingly belated, he had reached the ultimate
solution of the facts. It was not that the theory of these two young
people committing murder for love was too cynical for belief. He had
encountered more incredible things than that in his professional career.
Life was a cynical business, and youth could be brutal in pursuit of its
aims, especially when the aim was passion, as it usually was. In his
experience youth and age were the dangerous periods--youth, because it
knew nothing of life, and age because it knew too much. There were fewer
surprises in middle-age. That was the period of responsibility--when
humanity clung to the ordered way with the painful rectitude of a
procession of laden ants toiling up a hill. Youth was not like that--nor
age.

No, it was not that. His difficulty was to fit all the circumstances into
any compact theory of the case. Try as he would, there were always some
loose ends left over, some elements of uncertainty which left him
perplexed. He fashioned a new