Now, it so fell out that Sir Peter Warrendale, who was much put about by the loss of his box--although he had himself almost thrust it into the hands of the self-styled Colonel Delnay--not only because it was intrinsically valuable, but because it was a cherished heirloom, had, on his arrival in town some weeks after his encounter with the highwayman, given a description of it at Bow Street, on the faint chance that it might turn up at one of the London pawnshops, or in some other fashion. A peculiarity of the box was that it had a false bottom, a fact which Dare had failed to discover. But it was a feature which Sir Peter, in his account of the box, had not forgotten to specify, so that the Bow Street official, who happened to be blessed with a good memory, found himself in possession of an article which was claimed by two different owners and was stated to have been stolen from both! Sir Peter Warrendale was communicated with, and at once identified the box as his property, and explained the mystery of the false bottom, under which lay _perdu_ a miniature of his great-grandmother when a beauty of eighteen. The question that now put itself was by what means had the box come into Dare's possession? It was a question which only himself could answer. So a messenger was sent to his lodgings with a request that he would go to Bow Street and identify the box. But Dare was not there, and all the information his landlady could supply was that he had gone into the country and that the date of his return was uncertain. Accordingly, a message was left requesting his presence at Bow Street immediately upon his return to town. Meanwhile the snuff-box remained in the hands of the authorities. CHAPTER XXI. IN QUEST OF THE MISSING HEIR. Mr. Geoffrey Dare alighted from the London coach at Tuxford, a small market-town some half dozen miles from Uplands. Next morning he set about making certain inquiries, which resulted in his ascertaining that Uplands was now empty and to let, and that Mrs. Bullivant had transferred herself and her belongings to a much smaller house, known as Homecroft, about twenty miles away on the other side of the country. The nearest town to Homecroft was Broxham, a place of some twelve thousand inhabitants, and thither Dare lost no time in betaking himself. After breakfast next morning he hired a horse and started for a long ride. When he got back in the early evening he had learnt a good deal more about Homecroft than he knew when he set out. Whether the particulars thus gathered by him would prove of any after use it was too early to determine: in point of fact, he had not yet decided upon his course of action. The subject was one which needed careful consideration if a fiasco were to be avoided, and just then he was turning it over and over in his mind.