“As no inquiries have been made for him by his cousin Mr Welsh, or any other of his friends or relatives, I am writing to you that you may inform them, and I hope that this letter may follow you abroad without delay. I may add that the circumstances of his escape showed most unusual cunning, and could not possibly have been guarded against. “Trusting that you are having a pleasant holiday, I am, yours very truly, ADOLPHUS S. CONGLETON.” The two looked at one another in silence for a minute, and then Welsh said, fiercely, “You must catch him again, Twiddel. Do you think I am going to have all my risk and trouble for nothing?” “_I_ must catch him! Do you suppose _I_ let him loose?” “You must catch him, all the same.” “I shan’t bother my head about him,” answered Twiddel, with the recklessness of despair. “You won’t? You want to have the story known, I suppose?” “I don’t care if it is.” Welsh looked at him for a minute: then he jumped up and exclaimed, “You need a drink, old man. Let’s hurry up that slavey.” With the first course their countenances cleared a little, with the second they were almost composed, by the end of dinner they had started plot-hatching hopefully again. “It’s any odds on the man’s still being in town,” said Welsh. “He had no money or clothes, and evidently he hasn’t gone to any of his friends, or the whole story would have been out. Now, there is nowhere where a man can lie low so well, especially if he is hard up, as London. I can answer from experience. He is hardly likely to be in the West End, or the best class of suburbs, so we’ve something to go upon at once. We must go to a private inquiry office and put men on his track, and then we must take the town in beats ourselves. So much is clear; do you see?” “And hadn’t we better find out whether anything more is known at Clankwood?” suggested Twiddel. “Dr Congleton wrote a month ago; perhaps they have caught him by this time.” “Hardly likely, I’m afraid; he’d have written to you if they had. Still, we can but ask.” “But, I say!” the doctor suddenly exclaimed, “people may find out that I’m back without him.” Welsh was equal to the emergency. “You must leave again at once,” he said decisively, rising from the table; “and there’s no good wasting time, either.” “What do you mean?” asked the bewildered doctor, who had not yet assimilated the criminal point of view. “We’ll put our luggage straight on to a cab, drive off to other rooms—I know a cheap place that will do—and if by any chance inquiries are made, people must be told that you are still abroad. Nobody must hear of your coming home to-night.” “Is it——” began Twiddel, dubiously. “Is it what?” snapped his friend. “Is it worth it?” “Is £500, not to speak of two reputations, worth it! Come on!” The unfortunate doctor sighed, and rose too. He was beginning to think that the nefarious acquisition of fees might have drawbacks after all.