On the next morning he came back from bathing at the lasher to hear that the telephone had called him. He took his car to Scotland Yard and was received by Superintendent Bell. That massive man was even heavier than usual. “You’ll not be pleased with me, Mr. Fortune----” he began. “If you look at me like that I shall cry. Two hours ago I was in nice deep bubbly water. And you bring me up to this oven of a town and make me think you’re a headmaster with the gout and I’ve been a rude little boy.” “Mr. Lomas said not to trouble you,” the Superintendent mourned. “But I put it to him you’d not wish to be out of it, Mr. Fortune.” “Damn it, Bell, don’t appeal to my better nature. That’s infuriating.” “It’s this Sheridan case, sir. Miss Sheridan’s vanished.” “Well, I haven’t run away with her. She smiles too much. I couldn’t bear it.” “She’s gone, sir,” Bell said heavily. “She was to have signed her contract as leading lady in Mr. Mark Woodcote’s new play. That was yesterday. She didn’t come. They had no word from her. And yesterday her servants gave information she had disappeared----” “I know. I was there. So she hasn’t turned up yet?” “No, sir. And Mr. Lomas and you, you found her bag in the river. That was her bag.” “Well, well.” said Reggie. “And what’s the Criminal Investigation Department going to do about it?” “Where’s she gone, Mr. Fortune? She didn’t take her car. She’s not been seen at Stanton station. She’s not at her flat in town. She’s not with any of her friends.” “The world is wide,” Reggie murmured. “And the river’s pretty deep, Mr. Fortune.” At this point Lomas came in. He beamed upon them both, he patted Bell’s large shoulder, he came to Reggie Fortune. “My dear fellow! Here already! ‘Duty, stern daughter of the voice of God,’ what? How noble--and how good for you!” Reggie looked from his jauntiness to the gloom of Bell. “Tragedy and comedy, aren’t you?” he said. “And very well done, too. But it’s a little confusing to the scientific mind.” “Well, what do you make of it?” Lomas dropped into a chair and lit a cigarette. “Bell’s out for blood. An Actress’s Tragedy. Mystery of the Thames. Murder or Suicide? That sort of thing. But it seems to me it has all the engaging air of an advertisement.” “Only it isn’t advertised, sir,” said Bell. “Twenty-four hours and more since she was reported missing, and not a word in the papers yet. That don’t look like a stunt. It looks more like somebody was keeping things quiet.” “Yes. Yes, you take that trick, Bell,” Reggie nodded. “Who is this remarkable manager that don’t tell all the newspapers when his leading lady’s missing?” “Mr. Montgomery Eagle, sir.” “But he runs straight,” said Reggie.