and he's got the keys."

"What do you mean--isn't there!" asked Neale, mounting the steps. "Not
in the house?"

"Mean just what I say," replied Shirley. "Mrs. Carswell says she hasn't
seen him since Saturday. She thinks he's been week-ending. I've been
looking out for him coming along from the station. But if he came in by
the 8.30, he's a long time getting up here. And if he hasn't come by
that, there's no other train till the 10.45."

Neale made no answer. He, too, glanced towards Finkleway, and then at
the church clock. It was just going to strike nine--and the station was
only eight minutes away at the most. He passed the two junior clerks,
went down the hall to the door of the bank-house, and entered. And just
within he came face to face with the housekeeper, Mrs. Carswell.

Mrs. Carswell had kept house for Mr. John Horbury for some years--Neale
remembered her from boyhood. He had always been puzzled about her age.
Of late, since he knew more of grown-up folk, he had been still more
puzzled. Sometimes he thought she was forty; sometimes he was sure she
could not be more than thirty-two or three. Anyway, she was a fine,
handsome woman--tall, perfectly shaped, with glossy black hair and dark
eyes, and a firm, resolute mouth. It was rarely that Mrs. Carswell went
out; when she did, she was easily the best-looking woman in Scarnham.
Few Scarnham people, however, had the chance of cultivating her
acquaintance; Mrs. Carswell kept herself to herself and seemed content
to keep up her reputation as a model housekeeper. She ordered Mr.
Horbury's domestic affairs in perfect fashion, and it had come upon
Neale as a surprise to hear Shirley say that Mrs. Carswell did not know
where the manager was.

"What's all this?" he demanded, as he met her within the hall. "Shirley
says Mr. Horbury isn't at home? Where is he, then?"

"But I don't know, Mr. Neale," replied the housekeeper. "I know no more
than you do. I've been expecting him to come in by that 8.30 train, but
he can't have done that, or he'd have been up here by now."

"Perhaps it's late," suggested Neale.

"No--it's in," she said. "I saw it come in from my window, at the back.
It was on time. So--I don't know what's become of him."

"But--what about Saturday?" asked Neale. "Shirley says you said Mr.
Horbury went off on Saturday. Didn't he leave any word--didn't he say
where he was going?"

"Mr. Horbury went out on Saturday evening," answered Mrs. Carswell. "He