o full of
horror and mystery. I felt as one awakened from a dream. But on my way I
passed the deserted motor-car. A constable was beside it, and I pulled
up to speak to him.

"Seen nothing of Inspector Forrest, I suppose?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

I gave him good morning and got on. I made similar inquiries at Fenny
Stratford, and again at Dunstable, still without result. I comforted
myself with the thought that at St. Albans I should certainly hear news
of him. But no. I found the police wild with excitement, but entirely
without any information as to what had become of the missing detective.
I found, however, that they did not share my forebodings as to anything
serious having happened to him. Their view was that he had discovered
some clue, and was hard upon the track of the murderer. I had to give
them a complete history of the events of the night. But I got away at
last, and reached home as tired as I had ever been in my life.

I took a bath as hot as I could bear it, and went straight to bed. I was
dead beat, and I fell asleep instantly.

I awoke some time in the afternoon, and when I had got the sleep out of
my eyes, and the events of the previous night came back to me, I felt
inclined to curse myself for having thought of resting. I felt certain
that if it had been myself who was missing, Forrest would not have slept
until he had discovered something concerning my fate. I made a hasty
meal while dressing, and ordered my car to be brought round. Directly it
appeared I hurried off to St. Albans.

Nothing had been seen or heard there of Forrest, and once more I set out
upon the road I had traversed the previous night. Again I rode as far as
Towcester. I had a chat with the sergeant of police, and found that,
though search parties had scoured the country round for miles, no
intelligence had been obtained. I made arrangements to appear at the
inquest on the following day, and returned to St. Albans. Still no news.

I got home again about seven, sick at heart. I had counted so much upon
Forrest's assistance in the fulfilment of my vow; but that was only a
secondary consideration now. I had grown to like him so much, that the
idea that he had met with any mischance knocked me over completely. I
went into my study and threw myself moodily into a chair. My man brought
me in some whisky, and hovered about until I told him to go.

"You were going to dine at Mr. Winter's to-night, sir, with Mr.
Forrest," h