What was that?"

"The page-boy's statement that Miss Cowley drove to Charing Cross. They
were so sure of themselves that they took it for granted he had made a
mistake."

"Then young Beresford is now?"

"At Gatehouse, Kent, unless I am much mistaken."

Mr. Carter looked at him curiously.

"I rather wonder you're not there too, Peel Edgerton?"

"Ah, I'm busy on a case."

"I thought you were on your holiday?"

"Oh, I've not been briefed. Perhaps it would be more correct to say I'm
preparing a case. Any more facts about that American chap for me?"

"I'm afraid not. Is it important to find out who he was?"

"Oh, I know who he was," said Sir James easily. "I can't prove it
yet--but I know."

The other two asked no questions. They had an instinct that it would be
mere waste of breath.

"But what I don't understand," said the Prime-Minister suddenly, "is how
that photograph came to be in Mr. Hersheimmer's drawer?"

"Perhaps it never left it," suggested the lawyer gently.

"But the bogus inspector? Inspector Brown?"

"Ah!" said Sir James thoughtfully. He rose to his feet. "I mustn't keep
you. Go on with the affairs of the nation. I must get back to--my case."

Two days later Julius Hersheimmer returned from Manchester. A note from
Tommy lay on his table:

"DEAR HERSHEIMMER,

"Sorry I lost my temper. In case I don't see you again, good-bye. I've
been offered a job in the Argentine, and might as well take it.

"Yours,

"TOMMY BERESFORD."

A peculiar smile lingered for a moment on Julius's face. He threw the
letter into the waste-paper basket.

"The darned fool!" he murmured.

CHAPTER XXIII. A RACE AGAINST TIME

AFTER ringing up Sir James, Tommy's next procedure was to make a call
at South Audley Mansions. He found Albert discharging his professional
duties, and introduced himself without more ado as a friend of
Tuppence's. Albert unbent immediately.

"Things has been very quiet here lately," he said wistfully. "Hope the
young lady's keeping well, sir?"

"That's just the point, Albert. She's disappeared."

"You don't mean as the crooks have got her?"

"They have."

"In the Underworld?"

"No, dash it all, in this world!"

"It's a h'expression, sir," explained Albert. "At the pictures the
crooks always have a restoorant in the Underworld. But do you think as
they've done her in, sir?"

"I hope not. By the way, have you by any chance an aunt, a cousin,
a grandmother, or any other su