Stafford found his grey-haired chief, arrayed in a flowered silk dressing-gown, balancing bread on an electric toaster. "Bad news, eh, Stafford?" he said. "Sit down and have some coffee. The girl is gone?" Stafford nodded. "And our unfortunate detective-constable, who was sent to watch, is half-way to the mortuary, I presume?" "Not so bad as that, sir," said Stafford, "but he's got a pretty bad crack. He's recovered consciousness but remembers nothing that happened." Sir Stanley nodded. "Very scientifically done," he said admiringly. "This, of course, is the work of the Boundary Gang." "I wish----" began Stafford between his teeth. "Save your breath, my friend," smiled Sir Stanley; "wishing will do nothing. You could arrest every known member of the gang, and they'd have twenty alibis ready, and jolly good alibis too. It is years since the colonel staged an outrage of this kind and his right hand has not lost its cunning. Look at the organisation of it! The men get into the house without attracting the attention of your watcher. Then, at the exact second that the ambulance is due, along comes their 'cosher,' knocks down the policeman on duty. I don't suppose the thing took more than ten minutes. Everything was timed. They must have known the hour the policeman on the beat passed along the street." Sir Stanley poured out the coffee with his own hands, and relapsed back into his armchair. "Why do you think they did it?" "They were afraid of her, sir," said Stafford. Sir Stanley laughed softly. "I can't imagine Boundary being afraid of a girl." "She was Solly White's daughter," said Stafford. "Even then I can't understand it," replied the chief, "unless--by jove! Of course." He hit his knee a smack and Stafford waited. "Probably they've got some other game on, but I'll tell you one of the ideas of taking that girl--it is to bring back Solomon White. He disappeared, didn't he?" Stafford nodded. "That's the game--to bring back Solomon White. And whatever the danger to himself, he'll be in London to-morrow as soon as this news is known." Sir Stanley sat thinking, with his chin in his hand, his forehead wrinkled. "There's some other reason, too. Now, what is it?" Stafford guessed, but did not say. "That girl will take some recovering before harm comes to her," said Sir Stanley softly, "your only hope is that friend Jack comes to your rescue." "Jack o' Judgment?" Sir Stanley nodded and the other smiled sadly. "That's unlikely," he said; "indeed, it is impossible. I think I might as well tell you my own theory as to why she was taken and why Boundary took so much trouble to capture her." "What is your theory?" asked Sir Stanley curiously. "My theory, sir, is that she is Jack o' Judgment," said Stafford King. "She--Jack o' Judgment?" Sir Stanley was on his feet staring at him. "Impossible! It is a man----" "You seem to forget, sir," said Stafford, "that Miss White is a wonderful mimic." "But why?"