How long I lay there day-dreaming I really cannot say. I know that I was brought back to earth by the fall of a burned-out log, and, looking up at the clock, I saw to my surprise that the time was close on a quarter to seven. It struck me as curious that Bascomb had not yet been in to clear away the tea things, for such an oversight was altogether contrary to his usual methodical habits. Wondering what he was doing, I roused myself out of my chair and crossed the hall to the baize door. I called his name twice, and then, as he failed to answer, I walked along the passage as far as the kitchen. There was no sign of him there, nor did my investigations in the scullery and pantry produce any better result. With a vague feeling of uneasiness I made my way to the back entrance, which I found unlocked, and stepped out into the garden. "Bascomb!" I shouted. "Bascomb!" Once more a complete silence was my only reply. Puzzled, and not a little upset, I stood peering out into the fog, which still shrouded everything in impenetrable gloom. Unless he had gone down to the boat-house I could not imagine where on earth he had got to, for if he were anywhere close at hand he must certainly have heard me calling. It was so unlike him, however, to disappear in this fashion, just when he ought to have been preparing dinner, that all my former doubts as to whether he was quite in his right senses came back to me with renewed vigour. Having pondered over the situation for a few moments, I decided that the best thing to do was to go out at once and have a look for him. It was not a particularly inviting prospect, but, on the other hand, the evening was closing in rapidly, and it would soon be too dark to see one's way about. So, stepping back into the house, I picked up a cap from the hall table, and then, after carefully closing and locking the back door, I once more climbed over the railings, and started off to grope my way along the shrubbery path. By the time I reached the small iron gate which lead out on to the foreshore I was beginning to feel uncommonly anxious. I passed through this, letting it clang noisily behind me, and before I had taken another half dozen paces the low roof of the boathouse suddenly loomed into view. The first thing that caught my attention was the door. Instead of being shut, as I had left it, it was now wide open, and, naturally concluding that Bascomb must be inside, I walked towards it with a considerable feeling of relief. A moment later I was standing on the threshold staring blankly in front of me. The place was as empty as a barn. Not only was there no trace of Bascomb, but in addition to that the dinghy itself was also missing.