orchard way, you know. The clerks say he went out--that way
again--at ten, and he's never been seen since."

"His house!" said Starmidge. "Have you tried that?"

"Know nothing of him there--the old man and old woman said so, at any
rate," answered Polke. "He seems to have cleared out. And now here's
fresh bother, though I don't know if it's anything to do with this. Mr.
Neale's missing--never been seen since six yesterday evening. Miss
Fosdyke's anxious----"

"He was to see me at nine last night," said Betty. "No one has seen him.
His landlady says he never returned home last night. Do you think
anything can have happened----"

"If anything's happened to Mr. Neale," interrupted Starmidge, "it's all
of a piece with the rest of it. Now, superintendent!" he went on,
turning to Polke, "never mind what news I've brought--we've got to find
these two Chestermarkes at once! We must go, some of us, to the Warren,
some to the Cornmarket. See here!--Easleby and I will go on to the
Cornmarket now--you get some of your men and follow. If we hear nothing
there--then, the Warren. But--quick!"

The two detectives hurried out of the police-station; Lord Ellersdeane
and Betty, after a word or two with Polke, followed. Outside, Starmidge
and Easleby paused a moment, consulting; the Earl stepped forward to
speak to them.

"As regards Mr. Neale," he began, "Miss Fosdyke thinks you ought to know
that----"

A sudden searching flash, as of lightning, glared across the open space
in front, lighting up the tower of the old church, the high roofs of the
ancient houses, and the drifting clouds above them. Then a crash as of
terrible thunder shook the little town from end to end, and as it died
away the street lamps went out, and the tinkle of falling glass sounded
on the pavements of the Market-Place. And in the second of dead silence
which followed, a woman's voice, shrill, terrified, shrieked loudly,
once, somewhere in the darkness.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE OLD DOVE-COT

On the previous evening, Wallington Neale, who had spent most of the day
with Betty Fosdyke, endeavouring to gain some further light on the
disappearance of her uncle, had left her at eight o'clock in order to
keep a business appointment. He was honourary treasurer of the Scarnham
Cricket Club: the weekly meeting of the committee of which important
institution was due that night at the Hope and Anchor Inn, an old tavern
in the Cornmarket. Thither Neale repaired,