"Mr. Thornton has a daughter here?" said Gale, making notes. "I did not know that. Indeed, I know very little about Mr. Thornton. I shall be glad if you will tell me all you know of him." And Gilbert did so. The detective-inspector asked several questions about the letter Thornton had addressed to his daughter, and dwelt upon the sentence in it which spoke of Thornton's intention to "surprise" Kitty. "I should like to see that letter," he said. "Certainly. You think it important?" "It may be--one can never tell," said the officer, diplomatically, "but the word 'surprise'--the idea--seems to suggest a certain whimsicalness on the part of Mr. Thornton." "It was merely his humour, I imagine," remarked Gilbert; "but I can't for an instant suppose that Mr. Thornton carried his whimsicalness, as you term it, or his humour to such a prodigious degree as to disappear from his hotel in the way he did." Gale nodded. Then he shut his note-book. "You would think so, Mr. Eversleigh," he observed, referring to Gilbert's last sentences; "but you would be surprised how often men disappear intentionally." "One hears of such things, but not frequently." "These disappearances are much more common than the public have any notion of, I can assure you. I am speaking now of what I have called intentional disappearances, and I don't mean what you might term criminal disappearances either. Men make up their minds to cut away completely from their surroundings, to begin a new life, to turn over a fresh leaf, and so on; do you see?" "Yes; but there could be nothing of the kind in the case of Mr. Thornton." "I do not say there was," said Gale, but his voice was non-committal. "May I ask if you have formed any theory regarding Mr. Thornton's disappearance?" "I have not; the facts are too few." "Have you any hope?" "Do you mean hope of finding where he is gone or what has become of him?" "Yes. And do you think he is alive? I have a haunting dread that he is dead." "Dead? Perhaps so; I cannot say, but I think it is too soon to come to that conclusion. Hundreds, yes thousands of people, disappear in London every year, and many of them are never heard of again. But you cannot say that of the majority. I would not be surprised to discover that Mr. Thornton is alive, and I would be as little surprised to find out that he is dead." "It has occurred to me," said Gilbert, who felt that the officer took up a safe but scarcely a sympathetic position, "that it is possible Mr. Thornton had another sudden heart-attack, and was taken into a house near at hand by some kind person----" "But suppose he had an attack and had been taken in as you suggest," interrupted Gale; "surely it is impossible to suppose that such a circumstance would not be reported somewhere? Mr. Thornton would have sent word to the hotel sooner or later, don't you think?" "Yes; that is reasonable."