Bruce had never before seen Sir Charles in such a hysterical mood. The anguish of the past three months had changed the careless, jovial baronet into a fretful, wayward being, who had lost control of his emotions. Undoubtedly he required some powerful tonic. The barrister resolved to see more of him in the future, and not to cease urging him until he had started on a long sea voyage, or taken up some hobby that would keep his mind from brooding upon the everlasting topic of his wife's strange death. Dyke's fitful disposition manifested itself later. After he had listened with keen attention to all that Bruce had told him concerning Mensmore and Phyllis Browne, he suddenly swerved back to the one engrossing thought. "What are you going to do about Corbett?" he asked. "Find him." "But how?" "People are always tied to a centre by a string, and no matter how long the string may be, it contracts sooner or later. Corbett will turn up at Raleigh Mansions, and before very many weeks have passed, if I mistake not." "And then?" "Then he will have to answer me a few pertinent questions." "But suppose he knows nothing whatever about the business?" "In that case I must confess the clue is more tangled than ever." "It would be curious if Corbett and Jane Harding were in any way associated." "If they were, it would take much to convince me that one or both could not supply at least some important information bearing on my--on our quest. If Mr. White even knew as much as I do about them he would arrest them at sight." "Oh, he's a thick-headed chap, is White. By the way, that reminds me. He got hold of the maid, it seems, before she had bolted, and made her give him some of my wife's clothes. By that means he established some sort of a theory about--" "About a matter on which we differ," put in Bruce quietly. "Let us talk of something else." The other moved restlessly in his chair, but yielded. For the remainder of the evening they discussed questions irrelevant to the course of this narrative. It was late when they separated, but Bruce found Smith sitting up for him at home. That faithful servitor bustled about, stirring the fire and turning up the lights. Finally he nervously addressed his master: "Pardon me, sir, but there was a policeman here asking about you to-night, sir." "A policeman!" "Well, sir, a detective--Mr. White, of Scotland Yard. I knew him, sir, though he did not think it. He came about ten o'clock, and asked where you were." "Did you tell him?" "Well, sir," and Smith shifted from one foot to the other, "I thought it best to let him know the truth, sir." "Good gracious, Smith, he is not going to handcuff me. You did quite right. What did he say?" "Nothing, sir; except that he would call again. He wouldn't leave his name, but I know'd him all right." "Thank you. Good-night. It was unnecessary that you should have remained up. But I am obliged to you all the same."