George. Well, Morley, I must be off."

Giles went home at top speed, and Morley remained at the inn to make
inquiries about the Hungarian Princesses. Although he was not now a
detective, yet Morley still preserved the instinct which made him ask
questions. He heard that the foreign ladies had driven to Westbury, and
afterwards strolled round to the stables to see the new coachman. He
learned from him about the strange lady who entered the carriage on the
moor. The man described her face, for it seemed that she had lifted her
veil for a moment when alighting at the station. Morley took all this
in, and walked home jubilantly. He knew that Anne was with the Princess
Karacsay.

"If these were the old days," he said, "I'd wire to London to have the
house of those Hungarian women searched. I wonder what they have to do
with the matter? Humph! Anne killed Daisy. Is it worth while to try and
trace her?"

This speech was made to Mrs. Morley, and the pale woman gave a decided
negative. "Let poor Anne go, Oliver," she said beseechingly; "I loved
her, and she had much good in her."

"Still, I'm all on fire to follow up the clue," said Morley.

"You promised to leave the detective business alone."

"Quite right; so I did," he answered. "Well, I'll do what you wish, my
dear. Anne Denham can go free for me. I said the same thing to Ware,
although he won't believe me. But I should like to know what that
Princess Karacsay has to do with the matter."

He worried all that evening, and finally went to see Franklin about the
matter. But he got scanty satisfaction from him. Franklin denied that
Anne had ever been in his house, and told Morley to mind his own
business. If the ex-detective's wife had not been present, and if this
conversation had not taken place in her presence, Franklin might have
been more easy to deal with. But the presence of a third party shut his
mouth. So Morley could do nothing, and made no attempt to do anything.

Had Giles known of this it might have set his mind at rest, for he could
not get out of his head that he was being followed. At the Liverpool
station he alighted about ten o'clock, and looked everywhere in the
crowd to see if he was being observed. But his fears were vain, for he
could distinguish no one with any inquiring look on his face, or note
any person dogging his footsteps. He stepped into a cab and ordered the
man to drive to St. John's Wood. But at Baker Street he alighted and
dismissed t