Mr. Bathurst Looks at a Pair of Shoes—and a Luggage-Wagon Bannister’s eyes blazed! Whatever chagrin he may have felt at the failure of the theory that he had put forward was momentary. It almost instantly gave place to the excitement of the chase. The hunt was up! “Sheila who?” he exclaimed. “Sheila Delaney,” replied Daphne. “I——” “How do you come to know her?” demanded Bannister peremptorily. “Was she a friend of yours?” Daphne shook her head—her own excitement had passed for the time being and she was now feeling quite calm—stunned almost with the horror that she had been the first to unveil properly. “Hardly a friend,” she replied. “Although I knew her very well. She was a very great friend of my late uncle—Major Desmond Carruthers. I expect you have heard of him—he died in March of last year—he was killed in a motoring accident. He was Chief Constable of Westhamptonshire.” She looked at Bannister inquiringly. Anthony was stung into the keenest attention. Westhamptonshire! Another coincidence or another link in the chain—which? He caught the Crown Prince’s eye and instantly formed the opinion that the mention of Westhamptonshire had increased that gentleman’s agitation. But Bannister was pressing eagerly for information. “I remember the name, I think. Although I never connected you with him. Can you give me her home address?” “Oh yes,” replied Miss Carruthers simply. “Rest Harrow, Tranfield, near Westhampton.” Mr. Bathurst’s grey eyes flashed back to the Crown Prince. Westhampton and now Tranfield—the two places of the post-marks on the Crown Prince’s letters! Alexis had apparently appreciated the point just as quickly as Mr. Bathurst himself—his fingers were toying nervously with the ends of his bellicose moustache. Bannister noted the address in his book. “Why was this young lady in Seabourne, Miss Carruthers?” he inquired. “Any idea?” Daphne’s answer was a negative. “None whatever, Inspector. I haven’t set eyes on her for months.” “What are her people?” “Her father and mother are dead. Her father was Colonel Delaney of the Westhampton Regiment. She lives with a kind of family retainer—her old nurse, I think.” She knitted her brows. “Shall have to get into touch with her,” muttered Bannister. “Do you happen to remember her name?” Daphne pondered, the tip of her fore-finger pressed to her dainty lips. “Carr, I think,” she answered after a moment or two, “but Sheila always referred to her by a nickname or something—now what was it?—I can remember hearing Uncle Desmond use it when he mentioned her.” She screwed up her eyes—as people sometimes do when attempting to remember something particularly elusive. “No,” she concluded regretfully, “I can’t remember what it was.”