h the doctor?"

"I know of none," replied Walter. "Still, I'm very sick that, after all
my pains, they should have escaped to Paris so suddenly."

"Never mind," said Trendall. "If they are what we suspect we shall pick
them up again before long, no doubt. Now look here," he added. "Read
that! It's just come in. As you know, any foreigner who takes a house in
certain districts nowadays is reported to us by the local police."

Fetherston took the big sheet of blue official paper which the police
official handed to him, and found that it was the copy of a confidential
report made by the Superintendent of Police at Maldon, in Essex, and read
as follows:

"I, William Warden, Superintendent of Police for the Borough of Maldon,
desire to report to the Commissioner of Metropolitan Police the following
statement from Sergeant S. Deacon, Essex Constabulary, stationed at
Southminster, which is as below:

"'On Friday, the thirteenth of September last, a gentleman, evidently a
foreigner, was sent by Messrs. Hare and James, estate agents, of Malden,
to view the house known as The Yews, at Asheldham, in the vicinity of
Southminster, and agreed to take it for three years in order to start a
poultry farm. The tenant entered into possession a week later, when one
vanload of furniture arrived from London. Two days later three other
vanloads arrived late in the evening, and were unpacked in the
stable-yard at dawn. The tenant, whose name is Bailey--but whose letters
come addressed "Baily," and are mostly from Belgium--lived there alone
for a fortnight, and was afterwards joined by a foreign man-servant named
Pietro, who is believed to be an Italian. Though more than three months
have elapsed, and I have kept observation upon the house--a large one,
standing in its own grounds--I have seen no sign of poultry farming, and
therefore deem it a matter for a report.--SAMUEL DEACON, Sergeant, Essex
Constabulary.'"

"Curious!" remarked Walter, when he had finished reading it.

"Yes," said Trendall. "There may be nothing in it."

"It should be inquired into!" declared Walter. "I'll take Summers and go
down there to have a look round, if you like."

"I wish you would," said the chief. "I'll 'phone Summers to meet you at
Liverpool Street Station," he added, turning to the railway guide.
"There's a train at one forty-five. Will that suit you?"

"Yes. Tell him to meet me at Liverpool Street--and we'll see who this
'Mr. Baily' really is."