tless room which was half kitchen and half sitting room, with
its red-tiled floor covered by bright matting, Mrs. Wiseman produced a
well-dusted Windsor chair, which she placed at Saul Arthur Mann's
disposal before she politely vanished. In a very few words the
investigator stated his errand, and Constable Wiseman listened in
noncommittal silence. When his visitor had finished, he shook his head.

"The only thing about the sergeant I know," he said, "I have already
told the chief constable who sat in that very chair," he explained. "He
was always a bit of a mystery--the sergeant, I mean. When he was
'tanked,' if I may use the expression, he would tell you stories by the
hour, but when he was sober you couldn't get a word out of him. His
daughter only lived with him for about a fortnight."

"His daughter!" said Mr. Mann quickly.

"He had a daughter, as I've already notified my superiors," said
Constable Wiseman gravely. "Rather a pretty girl. I never saw much of
her, but she was in Eastbourne off and on for about a fortnight after
the sergeant came. Funny thing, I happen to know the day he arrived,
because the wheel of his fly came off on my beat, and I noticed the
circumstances according to law and reported the same. I don't even know
if she was living with him. He had a cottage down at Birlham Gap, and
that is where I saw her. Yes, she was a pretty girl," he said
reminiscently; "one of the slim and slender kind, very dark and with a
complexion like milk. But they never found her," he said.

Again Mr. Mann interrupted.

"You mean the police?"

Constable Wiseman shook his head.

"Oh, no," he said; "they've been looking for her for years; long before
Mr. Minute was killed."

"Who are 'they'?"

"Well, several people," said the constable slowly. "I happen to know
that Mr. Cole wanted to find out where she was. But then he didn't start
searching until weeks after she disappeared. It is very rum," mused
Constable Wiseman, "the way Mr. Cole went about it. He didn't come
straight to us and ask our assistance, but he had a lot of private
detectives nosing round Eastbourne; one of 'em happened to be a cousin
of my wife's. So we got to know about it. Cole spent a lot of money
trying to trace her, and so did Mr. Minute."

Saul Arthur Mann saw a faint gleam of daylight.

"Mr. Minute, too?" he asked. "Was he working with Mr. Cole?"

"So far as I can find out, they were both working independent of the
other--Mr. Cole an