est wing of the house, where Septimus May had his bedroom.

Not until sunrise did Henry Lennox go to his own chamber, but his
sleepless night proved a needless precaution, for Septimus May gave no
sign.

CHAPTER V. THE UNSEEN MOVES

Before ten o'clock on the following morning Peter Hardcastle, who had
travelled by the night train from Paddington, was at Chadlands. A car
had gone into Newton Abbot to meet him, as no train ran on the branch
line until a later hour.

The history of the detective was one of hard work, crowned at last by
a very remarkable success. His opportunity had come, and he had grasped
it. The accident of the war and the immense publicity given to his
capture of a German secret agent had brought him into fame, and raised
him to the heights of his profession. Moreover, the extraordinary
histrionic means taken to achieve his purpose, and the picturesqueness
of the details, captured that latent love of romance common to all
minds. Hardcastle had become a lion; women were foolish about him;
he might have made a great match and retired into private life had
he desired to do so. At the present time an American heiress ardently
wished to wed the man.

But he was not fond of women, and only in love with his business. A hard
life in the seamy places of the world had made him something of a cynic.
He had always appreciated his own singular powers, and consciousness of
ability, combined with a steadfast patience and unconquerable devotion
to his "art," as he called it, had brought him through twenty years in
the police force. He began at the bottom and reached the top. He was the
son of a small shopkeeper, and now that his father was dead his mother
still ran a little eating-house for her own satisfaction and occupation.

Peter Hardcastle was forty. He had already made arrangements to leave
Scotland Yard and set up, single-handed, as a private inquiry agent.
The mystery of Chadlands would be the last case to occupy him as a
Government servant. In a measure he regretted the fact, for the death of
Captain Thomas May, concerning which every known particular was now in
his possession, attracted him, and he knew the incident had been widely
published. It was a popular mystery, and, as a man of business, he well
understood the professional value of such sensations to the man who
resolves the puzzle. His attitude toward the case appeared at the
outset, and Sir Walter, who had been deeply impressed by the o