It seemed as if she really did not know where the captain was. As he turned away, wondering in which direction he could next inquire, it suddenly occurred to him that he should ascertain if anything had happened to his motor car. He therefore took a second cab and drove to Rupert Street, in which the garage was situated. As he entered the yard the manager stepped forward; and the astonishment on his face was even greater than that exhibited by the doorkeeper at Westerham's flat. “I am afraid, sir,” he said before Westerham had time to speak, “that we have made some terrible blunder. A gentleman called here this afternoon and said that he had been asked to see me on your behalf. He said that he had received a telegram from Holyhead asking him to see that your car was sent up to Chester, as you would be staying there for some days. Your man was to wait for you at the Blossoms Hotel.” Westerham could scarcely disguise his anger. “What was this—gentleman like?” he demanded. “Well, sir,” said the manager of the garage, eyeing him anxiously, “I didn't take much account of him, though he appeared a very pleasant gentleman indeed. He was, I should say, tall and dark.” “Hook nose and black eyes?” suggested Westerham, helpfully. “Just so, sir, just so.” Westerham ground his teeth with rage. “Of course,” he said to the man, “I do not blame you—I cannot—but you've been hoaxed. I sent no orders about my car. I intended it to remain here until I sent for it. I may want it at any moment now, and the inconvenience and the loss of it may be great. You'd better wire to Chester for the man to return at once.” The manager of the garage was by this time greatly alarmed. His own suspicions led in the direction of theft, and the prospect of a considerable loss in reputation, if not a considerable loss in pocket, scared him very much. “Certainly, sir, certainly. And if in the meantime I can place any other car at your service I shall be pleased to do so.” “I'll let you know,” said Westerham, and he walked abruptly away. He went rapidly westward and reached the park. There he sat down in the darkness and made a further effort to understand the drastic and impudent measures which Melun was taking. If he could have come across that person at that particular moment there is little doubt but that he would have shaken the life out of him. Westerham's anger was seldom roused, but when it mastered him it was terrible, and the effects were apt to be disastrous to the object of his wrath. Now, turn things over in his mind as he might he could see little chance of coming to any conclusion until he could obtain the truth from Melun himself. But where was Melun? It would be ridiculous to make any further inquiries at his house. Crow, too, would certainly know little, and Bagley less. True, there was Mme. Estelle. He would see her.