ared to acquiesce in Mallow's suggestion that the
case should be abandoned, he had not the slightest intention of leaving
the matter alone. His professional pride was irritated by the
difficulties, and he swore that he would in some way learn the truth.
Moreover, the matter did not only deal with the death of Miss Loach,
but with the discovery of a coining gang. From various obvious facts
connected with the Crooked Lane crime, Jennings made sure that such a
gang was in existence, and that the factory had been in the unfinished
house. Now that the house was burnt down, it would seem that the
coiners had lost their city of refuge, and would probably give up their
nefarious trade. As the gang--judging from the number of false coins
circulated during the past five years--had been in existence for a long
time, it was probable that the members had made sufficient money to
retire from so dangerous a business.

"I wonder if the house was set on fire by this arrested man, out of
revenge," thought Jennings, as he dressed to go out, "or whether the
gang, finding things were growing dangerous since the death of Miss
Loach, ordered him to destroy the factory? I can hardly think that, as
to preserve the secret, Miss Loach was assassinated. It is not likely
that after paying so terrible a price, such destruction would be agreed
upon. Certainly the factory may be removed to another place. Humph! I
wonder if I can trace it. The best thing for me to do will be to go to
Rexton and look at the ruins."

So to Rexton the detective went, and found a large crowd round the wall
of the park. This had been broken down in several places so as to
admit the fire engines, and Jennings found a policeman on duty who had
been one of the first to see the fire, and who had indeed summoned the
brigade. On telling his name and position, the man was willing to
state all he knew.

"I was on duty about eight o'clock," he said officially. "There was a
high wind blowing, but the night was fine and dry. While walking down
Crooked Lane, intending to take the path to the station, I saw a light
behind the wall of the park. Then a tongue of flame shot up, and it
didn't need much cleverness to see that the old house was on fire.
Almost before I could collect my wits, sir, the place was in a blaze.
You see the dry weather, the heat and the high wind, made everything
blaze finely. I signalled for the brigade, and it came up as soon as
possible. But as