In the meantime--to repeat the question I have already put--where was Grant? Had he, after I had gone that evening, said or done anything to arouse suspicion, and been murdered by the Dumpling's orders? Or had he been allowed to depart, unsuspected and unharmed? And was his present mysterious disappearance due to the fact that he had followed up the gang after the flight, and was still engaged in watching their movements and in completing the chain of evidence against them? For that he had--either of his own, or of somebody else's choosing--vanished, and left no trace behind, was absolutely certain. I had gone straight from the scene of the negro's murder to the nearest post office, and had wired to Grant's chambers in Adelphi Terrace, asking for an appointment, and that a reply be sent immediately to the Savage Club, where I intended to lunch. Arrived at the club I found Grant's man-servant awaiting me. He said that his master had gone out the previous morning, and had neither returned nor sent a message. There was, of course, nothing unusual in this, for a detective's goings and comings are necessarily uncertain; but, remembering the circumstances under which I had last seen my friend, I could not help feeling uneasy. In a restless mood I strolled out of the club and walked City-wards, along the Embankment. From the headquarters of an evening newspaper, in the neighbourhood of Tudor Street, the newsboys were rushing, shouting as they ran, and making of the place a very Babel with their bellowings. "'Ere y'are, sir! Terrible river tragedy! Three bodies found in the Thames this morning!" Purchasing a paper from the nearest boy, I scanned it eagerly, anxiously. Beyond a paragraph recording the bare fact that the bodies of three men, supposed to be sailors, had been found at Dead Man's Point, Canvey Island, the spot where the corpses of those drowned in the Thames are sometimes washed ashore, there was little to satisfy my curiosity. I had not walked a score of yards before a fresh bevy of newsboys burst from another newspaper distributing centre. "Spesh'l!" they yelled. "Great river mystery! Three persons drowned in the Thames! Mysterious circumstances! Suspected murder! 'Ere y'are, Sir! Spesh'l! Latest particulars!" Again I purchased a paper, to find, in the stop-press portion of the print, the following paragraph: "THE GREAT RIVER MYSTERY. "_The bodies have been removed to 'The Lobster Smack Inn,' Hole Haven, Canvey Island, to await identification._" In my present mood, action of some sort was imperative, and as a cab was passing, I hailed it, and calling out "Fenchurch Street Station--fast as you can," jumped in. At Fenchurch I took the first train to Benfleet, ferrying over the creek which at high tide separates Canvey from the mainland, and making my way across the island to the "Lobster Smack" at Hole Haven, where I asked to be allowed to see the bodies.