. Greyle. "A week ago."

"A week ago!" exclaimed Copplestone. "That is, before last Sunday--before
the Bassett Oliver episode. Then--the offer to sell is quite independent
of that affair!"

"Strange--and significant!" muttered Gilling.

He rose from his chair and looked at his watch.

"Well," he went on, "I am going off to London. Will you give me leave,
Mrs. Greyle, to report all this to Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr.
Petherton? They ought to know."

"I'm going, too," declared Copplestone, also rising. "Mrs. Greyle, I'm
sure will entrust the whole matter to us. And Mr. Dennie will trust us
with those papers."

"Oh, certainly, certainly!" asserted Mr. Dennie, pushing his packet
across the table. "Take care of 'em, my boy!--ye don't know how important
they may turn out to be."

"And--Mrs. Greyle?" asked Copplestone.

"Tell whatever you think it best to tell," replied Mrs. Greyle. "My own
opinion is that a lot will have to be told--and to come out, yet."

"We can catch a train in three-quarters of an hour, Copplestone," said
Gilling. "Let's get back and settle up with Mrs. Wooler and be off."

Copplestone contrived to draw Audrey aside.

"This isn't good-bye," he whispered, with a meaning look. "You'll
see me back here before many days are over. But listen--if anything
happens here, if you want anybody's help--in any way--you know what
I mean--promise you'll wire to me at this address. Promise!--or I
won't go."

"Very well," said Audrey, "I promise. But--why shall you come back?"

"Tell you when I come," replied Copplestone with another look.
"But--I shall come--and soon. I'm only going because I want to be of
use--to you."

An hour later he and Gilling were on their way to London, and from
opposite corners of a compartment which they had contrived to get to
themselves, they exchanged looks.

"This is a queer business, Copplestone!" said Gilling. "It strikes me
it's going to be a big one, too. And--it's coming to a point round
Squire Greyle."

"Do you think your man will have tracked him?" asked Copplestone.

"It will be the first time Swallow's ever lost sight of anybody if he
hasn't," answered Gilling. "He's a human ferret! However, I wired to him
just before we left, telling him to meet me at King's Cross, so we'll
get his report. Oh, he'll have followed him all right--I don't imagine
for a moment that Greyle is trying to evade anybody, at this juncture,
at any rate."

But when--four hours later--