Rupert waited until her footsteps had died away. He opened the bureau and searched. A few papers were missing, some notes he had made of his examination, and one or two unimportant letters. As far as he could remember that was all, with the exception of the letters which had arrived during his absence and the bills Ruby had paid. It was lucky they had found and taken the race card. He took Ruby’s letter from his pocket and opened it: "DARLING,— "In case you return before we meet again, this is just to greet you and to tell you I have paid all the bills I could find, and put a hundred and fifty pounds to your credit in the bank. It is just possible that I may go away for a little holiday, as I have been feeling rather seedy, lately, and the management say that if I give them a doctor’s certificate I can take a rest. So don’t worry if you return and find me flown. I won’t write to Devonshire as you told me it would be better not to. Guard yourself for my sake. I love you better than anything else in the world. "Always yours, "RUBY." "P.S. I left some flowers on the bureau. I’m afraid they’ll die before you see them, but they are my thoughts, which will always be in this room with you." He looked at the flowers: red roses drooping their heads. Bending down he pressed the letter to his lips. Then slowly and deliberately he tore it up, threw the pieces on to the fire and watched them burn. Drawing a chair forward he sat down and stretched out his hands to the glowing coal. They were icy cold. He was shivering. It was obvious that the police suspected him of having altered Sir Reginald Crichton’s cheque. Their suspicions must have been pretty strong. They must have found some evidence in order to obtain a warrant to search his rooms. Perhaps there was a warrant out for his arrest. He smiled grimly. But suddenly the expression on his face changed. If he were arrested and the news reached Devonshire it would break his father’s heart, ruin his sister’s life. He jumped to his feet, picked up his hat, intending to go out at once and find Sir Reginald. The clock struck the hour—eleven. It was too late to see him now. Besides, he did not know for certain that the police suspected him! They had some letters, the contents of which he did not know. Receipts for the bills Ruby had paid. It was quite possible they might suspect her. He threw his hat aside and examined the bureau again. Why had the police taken the blotting-pad? He could not remember having written any letters on the day of the race. Yet the blotting-pad must have contained evidence of some sort or the police would not have taken it. If the cheque had been altered in his rooms and blotted on that pad—— His body broke out into a sweat. He dropped back into the chair and sat gazing into the fire.