“To me?” said Dick, in surprise, and called over his shoulder to Puttler, who was passing the door. “Mr. Gilder has something he wants to say--I presume it’s something of an unpleasant character,” he said. “Perhaps you had better listen to this, Puttler.” “Alford has just told me that Miss Gwyn has disappeared, and the inference is, of course, that the Black Abbot has spirited her away. I think that is extremely likely, because the Black Abbot has every interest in holding fast to that young lady.” “Sensation,” murmured the detective, but Gilder did not notice the interruption. “For some time past there’s been a queer spook haunting this countryside, an object of terror to Lord Chelford, designed, if anything, to cover the series of outrages which have recently been committed. Chelford’s a weakling--you know that, Alford--but weaklings have children, and once a child is born to Harry Chelford your hope of succession went like that!” He snapped his fingers. “What are you suggesting?” asked Dick steadily. “I’m suggesting that you are the Black Abbot!” Not by so much as a flicker of his eyelid did Dick betray himself. “I not only suggest it, but I’m prepared to prove it. On your way to town this morning you nearly collided with my car. As you skidded, your bag fell out of the dickey. I picked it up, threw it in the car and found it was open. In that bag was the robe of the Black Abbot, well worn, often used! Do you deny that?” “You’ve got to bring proof of this.” It was Puttler who spoke. “Proof!” cried the other triumphantly. “I’ll give you proof!” He walked rapidly through the hall to where his car was, the two men following him. He had left the bag under a rug at the back of the car. “There is the bag,” he said, as he pulled the rug from its place. “And here”--he snapped open the bag---- It was empty! “And here?” said Puttler encouragingly. “It was there a few minutes ago: I saw it before I came into the grounds. Somebody has taken it. You!” he accused Dick. Dick smiled. “Sergeant Puttler will testify that I came straight from my car into your august presence,” he said sarcastically. “Why don’t you accuse me?” asked Puttler. “I was out here all the time.” The baffled man looked from one to the other. It was impossible to believe that these two were in league. He knew Puttler by name to be one of the best officers Scotland Yard had ever had. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his hands to his sides. “You’ve beaten me, Alford,” he said, “for the time being. But I’m satisfied the girl is within a mile from this house, and I’m not going to rest until she is found. Heaven knows why you’ve done it--she’s fond of you, and there was no need----”