“No; that belonged to a harmless little commercial traveller. But when he was looking over the back reports in search of a clue to our man he caught another fish altogether, Sir Edward Kean himself! He got hung up at York on March 14th for traveling without side-lights.” Fayre, who was blessed with a quick and accurate memory, stared at him in amazement. “But Sir Edward came down to Cumberland by train!” he exclaimed. “He didn’t have his car with him! I know, because I met him myself at the station. I’d gone down to see about a lost suitcase.” “His chauffeur must have been joy-riding. The licence was the chauffeur’s. It’s not the first time that’s happened. Sir Edward, apparently, paid the fine without a murmur. What he said to the chauffeur is another matter!” Fayre, knowing Kean, did not envy the delinquent. Grey looked at his watch and rose. “I must go,” he said. “Now Leslie has been moved to Carlisle it will be more difficult for Lady Cynthia to see him. Tell her to let me know when she goes North again and I’ll do my best for her. It’ll buck him up more than anything if he can have a few minutes with her.” “And be uncommonly hard on Cynthia,” remarked Fayre grimly. He and Cynthia arrived punctually at Kean’s Chambers. He had not returned, but had left a message asking them to wait for him. As Fayre sat chatting with Cynthia, his eye fell on a photograph of Sybil Kean that stood in a plain silver frame on the writing-table. He remembered suddenly that, owing to her illness, he had never answered her letter and it struck him that, if she were better and conscious, she might be worrying as to whether it had reached him. He decided to send a few noncommittal lines by Kean, saying that he had received it and would be delighted to do her commission. This would convey nothing to any one should she be too weak to read her own letters and would at least reassure her.