“It is a queer idea, almost a fantastical one,” said Staines gravely, “but if you feel that you’ve got so much as one thread in your hands, go right ahead. To tell you the truth,” in a burst of confidence, “I had a horrible feeling that you had fallen down; and since I do not want our department to be a source of amusement to Scotland Yard, I thought I’d come along and give you the result of my own private investigations. I agree with you,” he said later, as they sat at breakfast, “that you want to go very, very carefully. It is a delicate business. You haven’t told the Scotland Yard men your suspicions?” Michael shook his head. “Then don’t,” said the other emphatically. “They’d be certain to go along and put the person you suspect under arrest, and probably that would destroy the evidence that would convict. You say you have made a search of the house?” “Not a search: I’ve made a rough inspection.” “Are there cellars?” “I should imagine so,” said Michael. “That type of house usually has.” “Outhouses where——?” Michael shook his head. “There are none, so far as I have been able to see.” Michael walked down to the railway station with his chief, who told him he was leaving in a much more cheerful frame of mind than he had been in when he arrived. “There’s one warning I’ll give to you, Mike,” said Staines as the train was about to pull out of the station, “and it is to watch out for yourself! You’re dealing with a ruthless and ingenious man. For heaven’s sake do not underrate his intelligence. I don’t want to wake up one morning to learn that you have vanished from the ken of man.” CHAPTER XXI THE ERASURE MIKE’S way back did not lead through the little street where Adele Leamington lived—at least, not his nearest road. Yet he found himself knocking at the door, and learnt, with a sense of disappointment, that the girl had been out since seven o’clock in the morning. Knebworth was shooting on the South Downs, and the studio, when he arrived, was empty, except for Knebworth’s secretary and the new scenario editor, who had arrived late on the previous evening. “I don’t know the location, Mr. Brixan,” said Dicker, the secretary, “but it’s somewhere above Arundel. Miss Mendoza was here this morning, asking the same question. She wanted Miss Leamington to go out to lunch with her.” “Oh, she did, did she?” said Michael softly. “Well, if she comes again, you can tell her from me that Miss Leamington has another engagement.” The other nodded wisely. “I hope she won’t keep you waiting,” he said. “You never know, when Jack’s on location——” “I did not say she had an engagement with me,” said Michael loudly. “That reminds me, Mr. Brixan,” said the secretary suddenly. “Do you remember the fuss you made—I mean, there was—about a sheet of manuscript that by some accident had got into Miss Leamington’s script?” Michael nodded. “Has the manuscript been found?” he asked.