At four o'clock, while the question was being asked in the House of Commons, and all the other evening papers were waiting the result for their special editions, my "Extra Special" was rushing all over London--the "Extra Special" containing the "First Authentic Description of the City in the Clouds." "You really are wonderful, Sir Thomas," said Miss Dewsbury, removing her tortoise-shell spectacles and touching her eyes with a somewhat dingy handkerchief, "but where, oh, where is William Rolston?" "My dear girl," I replied, "from what I've seen of William Rolston, I'm quite certain that he's alive and kicking. Not only that, but we shall hear from him again very shortly." "You really think so, Sir Thomas?"--the eyes, hitherto concealed by the spectacles, were really rather fascinating eyes after all. "I don't _think_ so, I know it. Look here, Miss Dewsbury"--for some reason I couldn't resist the temptation of a confidence--"this thing, this stunt hits me privately a great deal harder than you can have any idea of. You said that the shadow of the towers was across my path, and you were more right than you knew. Enough said. I think we've whacked Fleet Street this afternoon. Well and good. There's a lot behind this momentary sensation, which I shall never leave go of until it's straightened out. This is between you and me, not for office consumption, but," I put my hand upon her thin arm, "if I can help in any way, you shall have your Bill Rolston." She turned her head away and walked to the window. Then she said an astonishing thing. "If only I could help you to your Juanita!" "WHAT!" I shouted, "what on earth--" A page came in with a telegram. "Addressed to you, Sir Thomas," he said, "marked personal." I tore it open, it was from Pat Moore. "Extraordinary youth followed us out shooting, and came up at lunch asking for you. Boy of about sixteen. Mysterious cove with the assurance of Mephistopheles. Some question of fifty pounds was to get from you on delivering letter. Gave him your address and he departed for London." I couldn't make head or tail of Pat's wire, and I put it down on the table for future consideration, when Williams hurried in with a pad of paper. "Danvers just 'phoned through," he said, "and I've sent the message downstairs for the stop press." I began to read.