“I know you’re worldly. But you might know your world. Look about, Lomas, old thing. I’ve been looking about.” He took out a newspaper cutting. Lomas read: “‘SANDFORD. Any one who can give any information about Mrs. Ellen Edith Sandford, resident Llanfairfechan from 1882-1900, formerly of Lancashire, is urgently begged to communicate with XYZ.’” He looked up. “Of Lancashire? That’s a guess?” Reggie nodded. “North Wales is mostly Lancashire people.” “Well, there’s no harm in it. Do you want us to advertise for Kimball’s wet nurse?” “And his sisters and his cousins and his aunts. Yes. All in good time. But watch him first. Watch them both.” He nodded, and sauntered out. Lomas lit a cigarette and pushed the box to Bell. Both men smoked a minute in silence. Then Lomas said, “That’s a damned clever fellow. Bell.” “Yes, sir.” “I’ve often thought he was too clever by half. But, damme, I don’t remember thinking he was uncanny before.” “I have noticed it,” said Bell diffidently, “in a manner of speaking. Of course he does know a lot, does Mr. Fortune, a rare lot of stuff. But that’s natural, as were. What upsets you is the sort of way he feels men. It’s as if he had senses you haven’t got. Very strange the way he knows men.” PHASE V.--THE REPLY Their admiration for Reggie Fortune received a shock the next day. It came by telephone. Just after his late and lazy breakfast, Reggie was rung up from Scotland Yard. Bell spoke. Mr. Lomas thought that Mr. Fortune would like to know that Sandford had gone down to Mr. Kimball’s place. Reggie answered, “Oh, Peter!” In a quarter of an hour he was in Lomas’s room asking for confirmation. There was no doubt. The detective watching Sandford’s chambers had followed him to Victoria, and heard him take a ticket to Alwynstow, Kimball’s place, and was gone with him. “So that’s the next move,” said Lomas, “and if you can tell me what it means I shall be obliged to you.” Reggie dropped his hand on the table. “Not a guess,” he said. “How can a man guess? We don’t even know how much they know, or whether one knows what the other knows. I could fancy Sandford--what’s the use? “‘So runs my dream. But what am I? An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.’ Same like you, Lomas.” “I notice you are not so much the moral sage this morning,” Lomas said sourly. “Lomas, dear, don’t be unkind. I can’t abear it. I wish to God I was down there!” “Damn it, we’ve got two men down there now--one on Sandford, one on Kimball. They’ll be knocking their heads together. What the devil do you think you could do?” “Nothing. Lord, don’t I know it? Nothing. That’s what makes me peevish.” Lomas said severely that he had work to do, and Reggie left him, promising to come back and take him out to lunch, which he received as if it were a threat.