"I can imagine all sorts of things," I replied. "But I want to hear your story. The others have doubtless told you how completely your disappearance puzzled us, Woller? We traced you as far as Paddington, and then lost sight of you altogether. It was said that you had taken a cab in the station yard and had driven away in it, but no trace of the driver could ever be discovered, in spite of the large rewards we offered." "No one saw me drive away from Paddington," he answered, "for the simple reason that I walked from the station. They must have mistaken me for some one else. The scheme which brought about my destruction was, I must admit, a singularly ingenious one, if there is any comfort to be derived from that fact, and yet it was simplicity itself. As you are aware, the train by which I left Windsor, after stopping at Slough, does not do so again, except for ticket collecting, until it reaches Paddington. I should here mention that before leaving London that morning for Windsor, I had received a note from my old friend, Mrs Marchingham, who is a great invalid, and whose son is at the Front, asking me if I could possibly spare the time to call upon her in order to wish her good-bye. On receipt of her letter I telegraphed to her saying that I would make every endeavour to comply with her request. It would have been strange had I not, for we had been playfellows as children, and had always been on the most affectionate terms." "One moment," I said, for an idea had struck me. "If you telegraphed to her, how was it that the Department did not make us aware of the fact? We caused every enquiry to be made." "Because I signed the telegram with my Christian name, and I am quite certain that no one recognised me at the Post-Office," he replied, and then continued his story.