collection
of telephone receivers. He listened in silence to Mr. Marigold's
account of his failure to trace Barling.

"Marigold," he said, when the other had finished, "we must
undoubtedly lay hold of this fellow. Let's see now... ah! I have
it!"

He scribbled a few lines on a writing-pad and tossed it across to
the detective.

"If your friend's innocent," he chuckled, "that'll fetch him to a
dead certainty. If he murdered Mackwayte, of course he won't
respond. Read it out and let's hear how it sounds!"

The Chief leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette while the
detective read out:

"If Gunner Barling, etcetera, etcetera, will communicate with
Messrs. Blank and Blank, solicitors, he will hear of something to
his advantage. Difficulties with the military can be arranged."

"But I say, sir," objected Mr. Marigold, "the military
authorities will hardly stand for that last, will they?"

"Won't they, by Jove" retorted the Chief grimly. "They will if I
tell 'em to. No official soullessness for me; thank you! And now,
Marigold, just ask Matthews to fill in Barling's regimental
number and all that and the name and address of the solicitors
who do this kind of thing for us. And tell him we'll insert the
ad. daily until further notice in the Mail, Chronicle, Daily
News, Sketch, Mirror, Evening News..."

"And Star," put in Mr. Marigold who had Radical tendencies.

"The Star, too, by all means. That ought to cover the extent of
your pal's newspaper reading, I fancy, eh, Marigold! Right!"

He held out a hand in farewell. But Mr. Marigold stood his
ground. He was rather a slow mover, and there were a lot of
things he wanted to discuss with the Chief.

"I was very sorry to see poor Major Okewood in the casualty list
this morning, sir," he said. "I was going to ask you..."

"Ah, terrible, terrible!" said the Chief. Then he added:

"Just tell Miss Mackwayte I want her as you go out, will you?"

The detective was used to surprises but the Chief still bowled
him out occasionally. Before he knew what he was doing, Mr.
Marigold found himself in the ante-room doing as he was bid.

As soon as her father's funeral was over; Barbara had insisted on
returning to work. The whole ghastly business of the murder and
the inquest that followed seemed to her like a bad dream which
haunted her day and night. By tacit consent no one in the office
had made any further allusion, to the tragedy. She had just
slipped back into her