The next day was a busy one for Guest. He had to attend court, and in the afternoon he stole a visit to Miss Jerrold, where, by “the merest chance,” he found Edie, who was also there by “the merest chance,” but they had a long chat about their invalids, as they termed them, and then Guest spoke of his ideas respecting Brettison.

“And you sit here talking to me?” she said. “Why, you ought to be having the place searched.”

“You think so, too?”

“Of course, and without loss of time. Why, Percy, he may have known all about Malcolm Stratton’s trouble, and now the chance has gone forever.”

“Steady, steady!” said Guest, smiling at the girl’s impetuosity. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you. It’s rather bad sometimes.”

He left almost directly, and was half disposed to go straight to the police-station nearest the inn; but it occurred to him that he had stirred Stratton a good deal on the previous night, and that if he could get his friend’s interest full upon this matter it would be a good thing.

“I dare say it will all turn out to be nothing—mere imagination,” he thought; “but, even if it is, it may do something to get the poor fellow out of this morbid state. After all, Brettison may be there.”

But Guest felt so little upon the matter that he did not hurry to his friend’s rooms till after dinner, and, to his surprise, found that he was either not in or obstinately determined not to be interrupted, for there was no reply to his knocking.

“I’ll get him to let me have a latchkey,” he thought, “for he is not fit to be left alone.”

On the chance of Stratton being there he went on to Benchers’ Inn, and, to his surprise and satisfaction, he saw a light in the room.

After a few minutes his knock was responded to, and he was admitted.

“You have come again, then,” said Stratton reproachfully.

“Of course,” replied Guest, and he snatched at the idea again about Brettison. “Look here,” he said, “I have made up my mind that the proper thing to do is to have that room entered. Brettison has been away months, and it ought to be done.”

“But you have no authority,” said Stratton uneasily.

“You have, as his nearest friend and neighbour.”

“No, no, no,” said Stratton uneasily.

“I tell you it’s right,” said Guest. “We’ll go to the station quietly, give notice, and a couple of men will come, and bring a locksmith or carpenter to open the door.”

“Impossible! The publicity: it would be horrible.”

“If we found the old fellow lying dead there, yes. But he may not be.”

“No, he may not be, so it cannot be done,” said Stratton with an unwonted animation which made Guest the more eager.

“But it can.”

“I say no,” said Stratton angrily.

“But I say yes.”

“You have no right, no business whatever, to interfere in the matter. I will not have Mr Brettison’s place broken open and his things disturbed. It shall not be done.”

“Bravo,” thought Guest; “a little more argument of this sort would bring him round.” And full of determination, right or wrong, to persevere he said distinctly:

“Look here, Stratton, have you any special reason for refusing to listen to my words?”

“I—I—a reason?” cried Stratton looking startled. “None whatever.”

“Oh! You seemed so stubborn.”

“The natural feeling of a scientific man against intruders meddling with his study.”

“Mr Brettison made no objection to your breaking in upon him when he was dangerously ill and would have died without your help.”

Stratton was silenced for the moment, but he broke out directly with:

“But I am sure he has not been back.”

“How can you be, away as you have been so long?”

“I should have heard him or seen him. He would have come in to me.”

“Look here, Stratton,” said Guest at last, “if you oppose my wishes so strongly, I shall think that you have some special reason for it.”

Stratton’s eyes contracted a little as he looked fixedly at his friend.

“I shall not oppose you, then,” he said, after moistening his lips, as if speaking was an effort. “Have the place examined.”

“I will,” cried Guest eagerly. “Come on with me to the police-station, and let’s give information.”

Stratton shrank back in his seat.

“No, no. Speak to the people at the lodge; the man can open the door.”

“No; I am not going to have the matter spread abroad. And I do not accept the responsibility. No hesitation now; come on.”

Stratton was so weakened by ill health and nervous shock that, in spite of himself, he felt compelled to yield, and ten minutes later they were in the cold, formal station, where he felt as if in a dream, held there against his will, and listening while Guest told the inspector on duty his suspicions as if they were those of his neighbour Stratton, who, of course, was not sure, only uneasy, and desirous of quietly learning whether, by any possibility, there was something wrong.

“We’ll soon see to that, sir,” said the inspector quietly, and sending a message by a constable, a sergeant was called into the office, the matter explained to him, and, after a sharp glance at the two strangers, he proposed to call and get Johnson to come with them, as he would be home from work and they could pick him up on the way.

The inspector expressed his approval, and then said:

“I hope, gentlemen, you will find it is all a mistake, for your friend’s sake. Good-evening.”

As soon as they were outside the sergeant turned to them.

“As you want to make no fuss, gentlemen, and would like the matter kept quiet, suppose you both go on? I’ll join you in ten minutes with my man. People may notice it, if we all go together.”

Guest nodded, and they separated. Then a cab was called, and Stratton’s chambers once more reached.

Here the latter grew strangely excited, and began to protest against the proceedings.

“Look here,” said Guest warmly, “if I had had any doubt about its being right, I should go on now.”

“Why?” cried Stratton wonderingly.

“Because the excitement of another’s trouble or suffering is rousing you up, old fellow, and making you seem something like what you were of old.”

Stratton caught him by the arm, and was about to insist upon the plan being given up, when there was a sharp rap at the door, and Guest caught up candle and matches and led the way out on to the landing, followed by Stratton, who looked as if he were in a dream.

The sergeant was outside with a man of the regular carpenter class, with a bag swung over his shoulder by a hammer passed through the handles.

“Here we are, gentlemen,” sa............