nutes," Tavernake answered.

The policeman coughed.

"It's a very queer story, sir."

"It's true!" Tavernake declared, fiercely. "You and I have got to search
this house."

The policeman nodded.

"There's no harm in that, sir, anyway."

He flashed his lantern around the hall--unfurnished, with paper hanging
from the walls. Then they began to enter the rooms, one by one. Nowhere
was there any sign of occupation. From floor to floor they passed, in
grim silence. In the front chamber of the attic was a camp bedstead, two
or three humble articles of furniture, and a small stove.

"Caretaker's kit," the policeman muttered. "Nothing seems to have been
used for some time."

They descended the stairs again.

"You say you saw the two men enter this house, sir?" the policeman
remarked doubtfully.

"I did," Tavernake declared. "There is no doubt about it."

"The back entrances are all properly locked," the policeman pointed out.
"None of the windows by which any one could escape have been opened.
We've been into every room. There's no one in the house now, sir, is
there?"

"There doesn't seem to be," Tavernake admitted.

The policeman looked him over once more; Tavernake certainly had not the
appearance of one attempting a hoax.

"I am afraid there is nothing more we can do, sir," the man said
civilly. "You had better give me your name and address."

"Can't we go over the place once more?" Tavernake suggested. "I tell you
I saw them come in."

"I have my beat outside to look after, sir," the constable answered. "If
it wasn't that you seem respectable, I should begin to think that you
wanted me out of the way for a bit. Name and address, please."

Tavernake gave them readily. They passed out together into the street.

"I shall report this matter," the man said, closing his book. "Perhaps
the sergeant will have the house searched again. If you take my advice,
sir," he added, "you'll go home."

"I saw them both pass through that door," Tavernake repeated, half
to himself, still standing upon the pavement and staring at the unlit
windows.

The constable made no reply but moved off. Soon he reached the corner of
the Terrace and disappeared. Tavernake slowly crossed the road and with
his back to the railings looked steadfastly at the dark front of
gray stone houses. Big Ben struck one o'clock, several people passed
backwards and forwards. Men were coming out from the club, and
separating for the night; the roa