ot left this house."

"What a suspicious person you are, Mr. Meredith!" Kara rang the bell and
Fisher came in with a cup of coffee on a tray.

"Fisher," drawled Kara. "Mr. Meredith is anxious to know where Miss
Holland is. Will you be good enough to tell him, you know more about her
movements than I do."

"As far as I know, sir," said Fisher deferentially, "she left the house
about 5.30, her usual hour. She sent me out a little before five on a
message and when I came back her hat and her coat had gone, so I presume
she had gone also."

"Did you see her go?" asked T. X.

The man shook his head.

"No, sir, I very seldom see the lady come or go. There has been no
restrictions placed upon the young lady and she has been at liberty to
move about as she likes. I think I am correct in saying that, sir," he
turned to Kara.

Kara nodded.

"You will probably find her at home."

He shook his finger waggishly at T. X.

"What a dog you are," he jibed, "I ought to keep the beauties of my
household veiled, as we do in the East, and especially when I have a
susceptible policeman wandering at large."

T. X. gave jest for jest. There was nothing to be gained by making
trouble here. After a few amiable commonplaces he took his departure. He
found Mrs. Cassley being entertained by Mansus with a wholly fictitious
description of the famous criminals he had arrested.

"I can only suggest that you go home," said T. X. "I will send a police
officer with you to report to me, but in all probability you will find
the lady has returned. She may have had a difficulty in getting a bus on
a night like this."

A detective was summoned from Scotland Yard and accompanied by him Mrs.
Cassley returned to her domicile with a certain importance. T. X. looked
at his watch. It was a quarter to ten.

"Whatever happens, I must see old Lexman," he said. "Tell the best men
we've got in the department to stand by for eventualities. This is going
to be one of my busy days."

CHAPTER XII

Kara lay back on his down pillows with a sneer on his face and his brain
very busy. What started the train of thought he did not know, but at
that moment his mind was very far away. It carried him back a dozen
years to a dirty little peasant's cabin on the hillside outside Durazzo,
to the livid face of a young Albanian chief, who had lost at Kara's whim
all that life held for a man, to the hateful eyes of the girl's father,
who stood with folded arms g