He too invoked the powers of the detective police, but quietly, and without anybody's knowledge. He went up to London, and put the case of Geoffrey's disappearance before one of the sagest philosophers who had ever adorned the detective force at Scotland Yard, now retired and practising delicate investigations on his own account. "Do you suppose there has been a fatal accident, or that he has been keeping out of the way on purpose?" asked the General, after all particulars had been stated. "An accident would have been heard of before now. No doubt he is keeping out of the way. Have you any reason to suppose him mentally afflicted?" "Afflicted, no. Eccentric, perhaps, though I should hardly call him that--capricious, somewhat whimsical. Mentally afflicted? No, decidedly not." "Ah! That trick of keeping out of the way is a very common thing in madness. If he is not mad, there must be some strong reason for his disappearance. He must have done something to put himself in jeopardy." "Impossible! No, no, no. I can't entertain the idea for a moment," cried the General, thinking of that murderous attack in the wood. "Do you wish us to make inquiries?" "No, no, better not--the young man's mother is having everything done. I am not a relation--I only wanted the benefit of a professional opinion. I thought you might be able to throw some light----" "No two cases are quite alike, sir; but I think you will find I am right here, and that in this case there is lunacy, or there has been a crime." "Madness or crime," mused the General, as he left the office. "I can't go back to Suzette and tell her that. I must take her away again." He announced his intention of starting for the Riviera next morning at the breakfast-table; but his daughter implored him piteously to let her stay at Matcham. "It would be so heartless to go away while Allan is hovering between life and death, and while----" She left the sentence unfinished. She could not trust herself to speak of Geoffrey. CHAPTER XIV. "HE HATH AWAKENED FROM THE DREAM OF LIFE." It was the day which was to have seen Suzette's wedding--the thirteenth of December, a dull, mild December, promising that green Christmas which is said to people churchyards with new-comers; a December to gladden the heart of the fox-hunter, and disappoint the skater.