“You will speak civilly, Mr. Thurston, or leave this house. What is wanted?” he added, turning to Leach Sharkey. “We want Dick Willoughby, of course,” the sleuth replied, politely enough. “We have reason to believe he is here.” “Well, you can see for yourself whether he is here or not,” said Munson, glancing around. “But if you wish to look through the house, I don’t suppose Mrs. Darlington will refuse you permission.” The lady bowed her acquiescence. “With your consent, Mrs. Darlington,” Munson went on, “I’ll show these gentlemen round and save you the annoyance. Come along then.” Ben Thurston had been fairly silenced by the army man’s suave courtesy. He was glowering at him, dully conscious of having been suppressed. Munson turned from the sleuth. “Perhaps Mr. Thurston would prefer to remain with the ladies?” he asked, with a touch of smiling irony. “I don’t leave my man Sharkey,” replied Thurston gruffly. “Sharkey, keep close watch on me. We’ll search the place, but you stay near me all the time.” Once again there was the old hunted look in his eyes as he glanced apprehensively into the courtyard. “Then follow me,” said Munson quietly. “You have left a guard at the door of course?” asked Thurston of Sharkey. “Oh, you just allow me to know my business,” replied the detective sharply. He bowed to Mrs. Darlington and her daughters. “I am really sorry to disturb you, ladies.” “Then get the business over as soon as possible,” said Munson. “Come along.” The moment the coast was clear, Merle jumped up. “Quick! Mr. Willoughby. Follow me downstairs. I’ll take you through the kitchen to the rose gardens.” It was a strange looking duenna that stalked after Merle, with a robe reaching only to the knees. But at the head of the kitchen stairway Dick discarded the now useless garments, flinging them across the balustrade. “We must trust to our good luck now, Merle,” he said. “Never fear. It won’t desert us. Hurry on.” At the clump of oleanders they found Tia Teresa, provided with another shawl. Not a moment was to be wasted in words. Merle just pressed Dick’s hand by way of farewell. As he hastened away down the dark path, she, too, sped from the spot. Perhaps fifteen minutes later Ben Thurston, going the round of the house, came to the head of the kitchen stairs. He saw the black cloak and mantilla on the balustrade. “By God!” he cried with swift inspiration of what had happened. “We’ve been properly fooled! Where is that old hag of a duenna?” Gathering the vestments in his hands he rushed through the house to the verandah. Merle was quietly seated with her mother and Grace. But there was no sign now of Tia Teresa. Sharkey had followed close on his employer’s heels. Munson came a few paces behind. Ben Thurston glared for a moment at the vacant place where the black-robed figure had been seated. Then he turned round and, addressing Mrs. Darlington, fairly shouted: