And the next moment he was alone in the great chamber, and he felt tempted simply to go to the regular police, of whom a few were constantly employed by the City, and tell them what had happened, and leave the whole affair entirely in their hands. And then the strange attraction which always emanates from a mystery appealed to him so strongly that he determined to probe a little further into the peculiar matter of Ilam’s disappearance, without the aid of professional detectives. He didn’t imagine for an instant that Ilam was dead. He was capable of believing that Ilam had disappeared willingly; and yet such a theory, having regard to the recitals of Mr. Gloucester and of the bank-clerk (by this time doubtless on his way to Weybridge, and the young thing) was to say the least exceedingly improbable. He unlocked the door and went outside. Wiggins was at his post, actuated by the exaggerated alertness which characterizes one who has been caught napping. “Anything happened, Wiggins?” “No, sir. Nothing whatever.” “I shall return soon. If the Soudanese comes, keep him.” “Yes, sir.” He passed into the Central Way, which was almost deserted. The last visitor, the very last stalwart of the Y.M.C.A., had departed, and the sole signs of life in the great thoroughfare were a lamplighter extinguishing the gas-lamps which were provided in case of a sudden failure of electricity, and a road-sweeper in charge of a complicated machine with two horses. The clock in the tower of the Exposition Palace showed half an hour after closing time. The moon was peeping over the eastern roofs. Carpentaria went to the garage, and, not without difficulty, for it was shut up, made his way into the interior and procured some light. He wished to make a thorough examination of the car which had been employed as the instrument of the plot. He had it drawn out to the centre of the garage, under the full flare of an electric chandelier. A sleepy attendant hovered in the background. “Get a ladder and see if there’s anything on the roof of the van--any tyres or boxes or anything,” said Carpentaria. “There’s only this, sir,” replied the attendant when he had climbed up, and he produced a cap and overcoat of the City uniform. “Well, I’m----!” exclaimed Carpentaria, and a notion struck him. “Doorkeeper gone to bed?” he queried. “Yes, sir.” “Wake him and tell him I want him.” While waiting for the doorkeeper, Carpentaria scrutinized attentively the wheels of the vehicle; those wheels, even on his first visit, had put an idea into his head. Then the doorkeeper arrived, not quite as spruce and perfect as a doorkeeper ought to be. “No one can enter this garage except under your observation?” Carpentaria asked him. “No one,” said the doorkeeper, positively. “But you don’t keep such a careful eye on the people who go out?” “Naturally not, sir. They can’t go out till they’ve been in, and if they’ve been in they’re all right.”