"He had not seen him, sir, for two months. He offered Mr. Felix work, and he declined it." There was a silence. Miss Rawson could not speak. She had read the letter, and was inexpressibly shocked. Knowing what she did of Felix, she had thought Denzil quite justified in declining to receive him until he should have shown some signs of regretting the dishonor he had brought upon the family. Denzil sat staring straight before him into the fire. He remembered what a pretty little chap Felix used to be, and that he had been glad to have a small admiring brother to trot after him round the gardens and imitate all he did, and take his word for law. A sharp pain constricted his heart; he felt inclined to break down and weep like a woman. "What time--when--is the inquest?" he asked. "I must go to town at once." "This is the strange part of the story, sir," said Gregory. "The inquest can't be held until they find the body." Denzil had risen, and stood with his hand stretched out towards the bell. He stared at the constable in a dazed fashion. "Until they find the body?" "Yes, sir. Mr. Felix was not there, in his room, when they searched it." Denzil still stared. "What they think, sir, is that Mr. Felix, after drinking his dose, went out and jumped into the river. Same as the young man did last Tuesday was a month, at Norwich. Perhaps you read about it, sir. Took the stuff, went out, and as soon as he got sleepy rolled into the water. Laudanum don't always act, sir, not by itself. The water makes sure." Denzil raised his hand and looked at the letter. That left no doubt at all as to the intentions of the writer. He meant to commit suicide. His destruction of everything, the purchase of the little bottles, which had taken a fortnight to collect, told of the extreme deliberation of the plan. The fact that, so far, the body had not been recovered did not seem to him to leave much hope. Gregory said the London police had not much hope, either. He said nothing about the disappearance of the girl from the room above, for the excellent reason that the police knew nothing of it. To bring themselves into prominence in the matter was no part of the programme of the two worthies who were interested in Rona's future career. The landlady of the house whence the disappearance took place was also only too glad to hold her tongue. She and the two men both thought that the girl's vanishing must be connected with that of young Vanston. But as they dared ask no questions, they had no clew. As long as there was no inquest the landlady could not be put into the witness-box, and nothing could appear in the Press which would give to the fugitives, should they be alive and together, the very least idea that they were associated in the mind of anybody.