nce and was staring at
Lord Saxthorpe. Esther was sitting perfectly still, her face grave and
calm, her eyes alone full of fear. Lord Saxthorpe was not an observant
man and he continued, quite unconscious of the sensation which his
question had aroused.

"Sounds a silly thing to ask you, doesn't it? They're all full of it
at Wells, though. I sat on the bench this morning and went into the
police-station for a moment first. Seems they've got a long dispatch
from Scotland Yard about a missing man who is supposed to be in this
part of the world. He came down in a special train on Tuesday night--the
night of the great flood--and his train was wrecked at Wymondham. After
that he was taken on by some one in a motor-car. Colonel Renshaw wanted
me to allude to the matter from the bench, but it seemed to me that it
was an affair entirely for the police."

As though suddenly realising the unexpected interest which his words had
caused, Lord Saxthorpe brought his sentence to a conclusion and glanced
enquiringly around the table.

"A man could scarcely disappear in a civilised neighbourhood like
this," Mr. Fentolin remarked quietly, "but there is a certain amount of
coincidence about your question. May I ask whether it was altogether a
haphazard one?"

"Absolutely," Lord Saxthorpe declared. "The idea seems to be that the
fellow was brought to one of the houses in the neighbourhood, and we
were all rather chaffing one another this morning about it. Inspector
Yardley--the stout fellow with the beard, you know--was just starting
off in his dog-cart to make enquiries round the neighbourhood. If any
one in fiction wants a type of the ridiculous detective, there he is,
ready-made."

"The coincidence of your question," Mr. Fentolin said smoothly, "is
certainly a strange one. The mysterious stranger is within our gates."

Lady Saxthorpe, who had been out of the conversation for far too long,
laid down her knife and fork.

"My dear Mr. Fentolin!" she exclaimed. "My dear Mrs. Fentolin! This is
really most exciting! Do tell us all about it at once. I thought that
the man was supposed to have been decoyed away in a motor-car. Do you
know his name and all about him?"

"There are a few minor points," Mr. Fentolin murmured, "such as his
religious convictions and his size in boots, which I could not swear
about, but so far as regards his name and his occupation, I think I can
gratify your curiosity. He is a Mr. John P. Dunster, and he ap