That, of course, was easily done, and Morris told his servant to call
also at the house where Mr. Mills's flat was situated, and ask the porter
if he had come home. The note dispatched his mother went to bed, and
Morris went down to the billiard room to practise spot-strokes, a form of
hazard at which he was singularly inefficient, and wait for news. Little
as he knew Mills, and little cause as he had for liking him, he too, like
Mr. Taynton, felt vaguely anxious and perturbed, since "disappearances"
are necessarily hedged about with mystery and wondering. His own anger
and hatred, too, like mists drawn up and dispersed by the sun of love
that had dawned on him, had altogether vanished; the attempt against him
had, as it turned out, been so futile, and he genuinely wished to have
some assurance of the safety of the man, the thought of whom had so
blackened his soul only twenty-four hours ago.

His errands took Martin the best part of an hour, and he returned with
two notes, one for Mrs. Assheton, the other for Morris. He had been also
to the flat and inquired, but there was no news of the missing man.

Morris opened his note, which was from Mr. Taynton.

"Dear Morris,

"I am delighted that your mother and you can dine to-morrow, and I am
telegraphing first thing in the morning to see if Miss Madge will make
our fourth. I feel sure that when she knows what my little party is, she
will come.

"I have been twice round to see if my partner has returned, and find no
news of him. It is idle to deny that I am getting anxious, as I cannot
conceive what has happened. Should he not be back by tomorrow morning, I
shall put the matter into the hands of the police. I trust that my
anxieties are unfounded, but the matter is beginning to look strange.

"Affectionately yours,

"Edward Taynton."

There is nothing so infectious as anxiety, and it can be conveyed by look
or word or letter, and requires no period of incubation. And Morris began
to be really anxious also, with a vague disquietude at the sense of there
being something wrong.

CHAPTER VIII

Mr. Taynton, according to the intention he had expressed, sent round
early next morning (the day of the week being Saturday) to his partner's
flat, and finding that he was not there, and that no word of any kind had
been received from him, went, as he felt himself now bound to do, to the
police office, stated what had brought him there, and gave them all
information whi