Gaylor pinched his long upper lip, looked moodily at the remains of his dinner. “Tennant tells me that they tried to bomb you this afternoon. It’s the Pizarro gang, of course. Kennedy?” “His very self,” said Mr. Reeder, flippantly and ungrammatically. “And I should not be surprised if almost anything happened. I told my housekeeper to go home to her mother. Most housekeepers have mothers to go home to. I shall stay in town to-night.” “Where?” asked Gaylor curiously. “That’s my secret,” said Mr. Reeder gravely. They went out of the Yard together, when Gaylor had an idea: “If you want to get out of the way, I should go down to St. Margaret’s Bay. I think you will be safe there.” “An excellent idea,” said Mr. Reeder. “A very excellent idea, but unfortunately the doctor is still in town.” He went to his office, accompanied by one of the two detectives who had been appointed to watch over him. The other was still in Miss Gillette’s room--Mr. Reeder suspected that he was asleep, for it was some time before he opened the door to him. “There is a wire for you,” he said, and handed it to Mr. Reeder. It was from Dr. Ingham. Would he (Mr. Reeder) come down as soon as he could? There had been remarkable developments at Grayne. The telegram had been despatched from Dover. Mr. Reeder sent his reply over the telephone. He would arrive on the following afternoon at three o’clock. Then, strangely enough, contrary to all his expressed intentions, he went home to his housekeeperless establishment in the Brockley Road and slept alone in his silent home. And more strangely still, he slept most peacefully. If he had not gone home he would have missed the letter which came by the morning post. It was from Miss Gillette. She was leaving him. Mr. Reeder sighed happily. “I think I ought to help Mr. Anton,” she wrote. “The Rev. Dr. Ingham has promised to help him start a new business. Dr. Ingham has been most kind and I shall never be sufficiently grateful to you for having been unconsciously instrumental in bringing Mr. Anton into touch with him. He wrote to Tommy before he left London yesterday, suggesting that I might help in creating the new business, and I think you would like to see his postscript so I have torn it off.” She remained ever his sincerely. The slip of paper which accompanied the letter was in the doctor’s handwriting. “P.S. I shall never forgive myself if I have robbed Mr. Reeder of his secretary. He is a man for whom I have the very highest regard.” “H’m,” said Mr. Reeder, “how very nice… how extraordinarily kind!” He spoke aloud to his coffee machine and his electric toaster, but he was never so loquacious as when he was addressing an inanimate audience.