He did not wait for her to recover, but continued his search. From room to room he went, but there was no sign of Adele or the brutal owner of Griff Towers. He searched the library again, and passed through into the little drawing-room, where a table was laid for two. The cloth was wet with spilt wine; one glass was half empty—but the two for whom the table was laid had vanished. They must have gone out of the front door—whither? He was standing tense, his mind concentrated upon a problem that was more vital to him than life itself, when he heard a sound that came from the direction of Bhag’s den. And then there appeared in the doorway the monstrous ape himself. He was bleeding from a wound in the shoulder; the blood fell drip-drip-drip as he stood, clutching in his two great hands something that seemed like a bundle of rags. As Michael looked, the room rocked before his eyes. The tattered, stained garment that Bhag held was the cloak that Adele Leamington had worn! For a second Bhag glared at the man who he knew was his enemy, and then, dropping the cloak, he shrank back toward his quarters, his teeth bared. Three times Michael’s automatic spat, and the great, man-like thing disappeared in a flash—and the door closed with a click. Knebworth had been a witness of the scene. It was he who ran forward and picked up the cloak that the ape had dropped. “Yes, that was hers,” he said huskily, and a horrible thought chilled him. Michael had opened the door of the den, and, pistol in hand, dashed through the opening. Knebworth dared not follow. He stood petrified, waiting, and then Michael reappeared. “There’s nothing here,” he said. “Nothing?” asked Jack Knebworth in a whisper. “Thank God!” “Bhag has gone—I think I may have hit him; there is a trail of blood, but I may not be responsible for that. He had been shot recently,” he pointed to stains on the floor. “He wasn’t shot when I saw him last.” “Have you seen him before to-night?” Michael nodded. “For three nights he has been haunting Longvale’s house.” “Longvale’s!” Where was Adele? That was the one dominant question, the one thought uppermost in Michael Brixan’s mind. And where was the baronet? What was the meaning of that open door? None of the servants could tell him, and for some reason he saw that they were speaking the truth. Only Penne and the girl—and this great ape—knew, unless—— He hurried back to where he had left a detective trying to revive the unconscious Stella Mendoza. “She has passed from one fainting fit to another,” said the officer. “I can get nothing out of her except that once she said ‘Kill him, Adele.’” “Then she has seen her!” said Michael. One of the officers he had left outside to watch the building had a report to make. He had seen a dark figure climbing the wall and disappear apparently through the solid brickwork. A few minutes later it had come out again.