s struck
by a sudden quaint likeness between the face of the man in the picture,
with his sunken cheeks, his supercilious smile, his narrowed but
powerful eyes, to the face of Sir Timothy himself. There was something
of the same spirit there--the lawless buccaneer, perhaps the criminal.

"You asked for me, Sir Timothy," Francis said.

Sir Timothy smiled.

"I was fortunate to find that you had not left," he answered. "I want
you to be present at this forthcoming interview. You are to a certain
extent in the game. I thought it might amuse you."

Francis for the first time was aware that his host was not alone. The
room, with its odd splashes of light, was full of shadows, and he saw
now that in an easy-chair a little distance away from Sir Timothy, a
girl was seated. Behind her, still standing, with his hat in his hand,
was a man. Francis recognised them both with surprise.

"Miss Hyslop!" he exclaimed.

She nodded a little defiantly. Sir Timothy smiled. "Ah!" he said. "You
know the young lady, without a doubt. Mr. Shopland, your coadjutor in
various works of philanthropy, you recognise, of course? I do not mind
confessing to you, Ledsam, that I am very much afraid of Mr. Shopland.
I am not at all sure that he has not a warrant for my arrest in his
pocket."

The detective came a little further into the light. He was attired in
an ill-fitting dinner suit, a soft-fronted shirt of unpleasing design,
a collar of the wrong shape, and a badly arranged tie. He seemed,
nevertheless, very pleased with himself.

"I came on here, Mr. Ledsam, at Sir Timothy's desire," he said. "I
should like you to understand," he added, with a covert glance of
warning, "that I have been devoting every effort, during the last few
days, to the discovery of your friend's brother, Mr. Reginald Wilmore."

"I am very glad to hear it," Francis replied shortly. "The boy's brother
is one of my greatest friends."

"I have come to the conclusion," the detective pronounced, "that the
young man has been abducted, and is being detained at The Walled House
against his will for some illegal purpose."

"In other respects," Sir Timothy said, stretching out his hand towards
a cedar-wood box of cigarettes and selecting one, "this man seems quite
sane. I have watched him very closely on the way here, but I could see
no signs of mental aberration. I do not think, at any rate, that he is
dangerous."

"Sir Timothy," Shopland explained, with some anger in his