“Not the ghost of one,” he admitted. “The reason I am advising you to keep as quiet as possible, though, is just this. If you create a lot of interest in a disappearance, you have to satisfy the public curiosity when the mystery is solved.” “I see,” Wilmore murmured. “All the same, I can't imagine Reggie getting mixed up in anything discreditable.” “Neither can I, from what I remember of the boy,” Francis agreed. “Let me see, what was he doing in the City?” “He was with Jameson & Scott, the stockbrokers,” Wilmore replied. “He was only learning the business and he had no responsibilities. Curiously enough, though, when I went to see Mr. Jameson he pointed out one or two little matters that Reggie had attended to, which looked as though he were clearing up, somehow or other.” “He left no message there, I suppose?” “Not a line or a word. He gave the porter five shillings, though, on the afternoon before he disappeared--a man who has done some odd jobs for him.” “Well, a voluntary disappearance is better than an involuntary one,” Francis remarked. “What was his usual programme when he left the office?” “He either went to Queen's and played racquets, or he went straight to his gymnasium in the Holborn. I telephoned to Queen's. He didn't call there on the Wednesday night, anyhow.” “Where's the gymnasium?” “At 147 a Holborn. A lot of city young men go there late in the evening, but Reggie got off earlier than most of them and used to have the place pretty well to himself. I think that's why he stuck to it.” Francis made a note of the address. “I'll get Shopland to step down there some time,” he said. “Or better still, finish your lunch and we'll take a taxi there ourselves. I'm going to the country later on, but I've half-an-hour to spare. We can go without our coffee and be there in ten minutes.” “A great idea,” Wilmore acquiesced. “It's probably the last place Reggie visited, anyway.” CHAPTER XVII The gymnasium itself was a source of immense surprise to both Francis and Wilmore. It stretched along the entire top storey of a long block of buildings, and was elaborately fitted with bathrooms, a restaurant and a reading-room. The trapezes, bars, and all the usual appointments were of the best possible quality. The manager, a powerful-looking man dressed with the precision of the prosperous city magnate, came out of his office to greet them. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he enquired. “First of all,” Francis replied, “accept our heartiest congratulations upon your wonderful gymnasium.” The man bowed. “It is the best appointed in the country, sir,” he said proudly. “Absolutely no expense has been spared in fitting it up. Every one of our appliances is of the latest possible description, and our bathrooms are an exact copy of those in a famous Philadelphia club.” “What is the subscription?” Wilmore asked. “Five shillings a year.” “And how many members?” “Two thousand.”