eet and touching a bell in front of him. "I do not believe you have
told all."

CHAPTER XXIV

Strong in his conviction that the story of Hazel Rath was largely the
product of an hysterical imagination, Merrington dismissed it from his
mind and devoted all his energies to the search for Nepcote. The task
looked a difficult one, but Merrington did not despair of accomplishing
it before the day came round for the adjourned hearing of the charge
against the girl. He knew that it was a difficult matter for a wanted
man to remain uncaptured in a civilized community for any length of time
if the pursuit was determined enough, and in this instance the military
police were assisting the criminal authorities.

Merrington's own plans for Nepcote's capture were based on the belief
that he had not the means to get away from London unless the Heredith
necklace was still in his possession. As that seemed likely enough,
Nepcote's description was circulated among the pawn-brokers and
jewellers, with a request that anyone offering the necklace should be
detained until a policeman could be called in. He also had Nepcote's
former haunts watched in case the young man endeavoured to approach any
of his friends or acquaintances for a loan. Having taken these steps in
the hope of starving Nepcote into surrender if he was not caught in the
meantime, Merrington next directed the resources at his command to
putting London through a fine-tooth comb, as he expressed it, in the
effort to get hold of his man.

But it was to chance that he owed his first indication of Nepcote's
movements since his disappearance. He was dictating official
correspondence in his private room at Scotland Yard three days after his
visit to Lewes, when a subordinate officer entered to say that a man had
called who wished to see somebody in authority. It was Merrington's
custom to interview callers who visited Scotland Yard on mysterious
errands which they refused to disclose in the outer office. The
information he received from such sources more than compensated for the
occasional intrusion of criminals with grudges or bores with public
grievances.

The man who followed the janitor into the room was neither the one nor
the other, but a weazened white-faced Londoner, with a shrewd eye and
the false, cringing smile of a small shopkeeper. He explained in the
strident vernacular of the Cockney that his name was Henry Hobbs--"Enery
Obbs" was his own version of it--