That same evening, between eight and nine, Miriam and her father went out for a little while to make a few final arrangements for their journey in the morning. They had hardly been gone five minutes when Pringle happened to find himself on the landing opposite the door of their sitting-room. On turning the handle the door was found to be unlocked and the gas only half turned down--signs that the inmates might be expected back before very long. Leaving the door wide open, Pringle glided into the room. He was dying to know to what place Byrne and his daughter were going--in fact, he did not believe they were going to the seaside at all--and he thought that he might perhaps find a luggage label, or something else, in the room, that would reveal to him what he wanted to know. One or two boxes, ready packed, were there, and on the table lay several loose labels, but, unfortunately for Pringle's purpose, they were still blank. Gliding quietly about the room, he next tried the different drawers and cupboards, hoping that in one or other of them he might find a clue of some kind to what he was so anxious to know, but all his searching proved of no avail. Suddenly he heard the street door open, and he had hardly time to get out of the room and round the corner of the next landing, before Miriam ran lightly up the stairs to fetch something that she had forgotten. Later on in the evening, when Byrne and Miriam had got back home, Pringle sent Bakewell upstairs to ask at what time next morning they would like to have a cab in readiness. "How long will it take to drive to Euston Square?" asked Miriam. "A good half-hour, miss. Three-quarters, if you happen to meet with a block." "At that rate an hour would be ample time. Will you kindly arrange to have a cab in readiness by nine o'clock?" At five minutes past nine next morning, Mr. Byrne and his daughter, together with sundry boxes of luggage, drove away from Spur Alley in a four-wheeler for Euston Square. Three minutes later Pringle was following on their heels in a hansom. He had timed himself to arrive at the station within two minutes of those whom he was following. He alighted, and began to reconnoitre cautiously. It would not do to be seen by either father or daughter. Peeping round a corner of the entrance doors into the large hall, he there saw Miriam standing by the luggage, Byrne having in all probability gone to secure tickets. Pringle beckoned to a porter. "I'm from Scotland Yard," he whispered. "I want you to find out, without its being noticed, for what place those boxes are directed by which yonder young lady is standing." "All right, sir--that's easily done," said the porter. Three minutes later he came back to Pringle. "The boxes are labelled for Marhyddoc, in North Wales," he said. Pringle put down the name of the place in his note-book, gave the man a shilling, and took the next omnibus back to the City.