line," he explained.

Superintendent Figgis appeared to understand this after a while. Then he
sighed heavily, and changed the subject with rather disconcerting
abruptness.

"From my notes I understand that Mr. Morris Assheton ascertained that
the missing individual had left his flat in London on Thursday
afternoon," he said.

"Yes, Mr. Assheton is a client of ours, and he wished to see my partner
on a business matter. In fact, when Mr. Mills was found not to have
returned on Thursday evening, he went up to London next day to see him,
since we both supposed he had been detained there."

Mr. Figgis looked once more mournfully at his notes, altered a palpably
mistaken "Wednesday" into Thursday, and got up.

"The matter shall be gone into," he said.

* * * * *

Mr. Taynton went straight from here to his office, and for a couple of
hours devoted himself to the business of his firm, giving it his whole
attention and working perhaps with more speed than it was usually his to
command. Saturday of course was a half-holiday, and it was naturally his
desire to get cleared off everything that would otherwise interrupt the
well-earned repose and security from business affairs which was to him
the proper atmosphere of the seventh, or as he called it, the first day.
This interview with the accredited representative of the law also had
removed a certain weight from his mind. He had placed the matter of his
partner's disappearance in official hands, he had done all he could do to
clear up his absence, and, in case--but here he pulled himself up; it was
at present most premature even to look at the possibility of crime having
been committed.

Mr. Taynton was in no way a vain man, nor was it his habit ever to review
his own conduct, with the object of contrasting it favourably with what
others might have done under the circumstances. Yet he could not help
being aware that others less kindly than he would have shrugged sarcastic
shoulders and said, "probably another blackmailing errand has detained
him." For, indeed, Mills had painted himself in very ugly colours in his
last interview with him; that horrid hint of blackmail, which still, so
to speak, held good, had cast a new light on him. But now Taynton was
conscious of no grudge against him; he did not say, "he can look after
himself." He was anxious about his continued absence, and had taken the
extreme step of calling in the aid of the police,