“H’m. He may be right after all, although it is odd he should give you a chance to outrun him in this way. I always did think that Jotty knew more than was good for him. Of course he gave Sorley warning.” “Of course,” assented Fuller quickly; “only Jotty could have been the blue-eyed, fair-haired lad, who called to see the man. He disappeared from Thimble Square, as Bakche told me, the day before yesterday, so I expect he saw the news about the peacock in that paper, and bolted to warn Sorley.” “But why should he do that?” asked Latimer with a puzzled air; “he evidently told Miss Grison—guessing the fact from the drawing you showed him—that Sorley had the bird. And on account of that, Miss Grison related what she did to the interviewer. But I can’t understand why Jotty having brought about the trouble, should try to save Sorley from it.” Alan shook his head. “It is impossible to say, unless we can get hold of the boy again and make him speak out. He may return to Miss Grison——” “No,” said Dick decisively, “he won’t. She has done her best to get Sorley into trouble, and won’t thank Jotty for giving him warning. I wonder where he has gone?” “Jotty?” “And Sorley; both of them. Moon has left a detective at The Monastery on the off-chance that Miss Inderwick’s uncle may return. But I don’t think he will. Probably he has taken those jewels of his own, you spoke of, and has left the country.” “It looks as though he were guilty,” observed Alan with a groan. “It does,” assented Latimer quickly; “but it is just as well that he has got away, and so avoided arrest and trial, and probably hanging. I don’t expect you’ll set eyes on him again or on Jotty either, as maybe he has taken the lad with him.” “Why should he do that?” “Jotty—as I always suspected—knows too much, and Sorley wants to get him out of the way.” “It is too late,” replied Fuller doubtfully. “Jotty has given us the letter, and has told us enough to hang Sorley unless the man has a very good defence. Probably he hasn’t any, else he would have stood his ground. Oh, my poor Marie, how dreadful it is for you to have a criminal for an uncle.” Dick patted Alan’s shoulder. “See here, old son,” he remarked with rough sympathy, “I was annoyed when I heard that the man had bolted. Now I am very glad for your sake. As I said you won’t hear of Sorley again. So go to work and solve the riddle of the peacock; marry Marie and tell Bakche he can go back to India with his tail between his legs.” “But Sorley has probably taken the bird with him.” “What does that matter? You have the drawing, and can solve the riddle from that, as you have always expected to do. The mystery of Grison’s death is an open secret now, Alan, my boy, so let the past bury itself, and look forward to your marriage with the girl, and possession of the treasure.”