The abnormal brain of Bernard Boyne worked quickly, and ever with criminal intent. He was possessed of the criminal "kink," and was also possessed of a super-mind for the evasion of any attempt at detection. Such men, "Jack the Ripper" of London, "Romer" of Madrid, "Lightning Lasky" of New York, and the "Ermito" of Rome—all of them famous criminals who have never been discovered by the police of Europe, though traps were set for them by the dozen—were exactly on a par with the humble insurance agent of Hammersmith, the highly popular "Busy Boyne." One evening, three days after the news had been forthcoming concerning the death of Mrs. Morrison, Marigold went over to see her aunt at Hammersmith, arriving there about seven o’clock. "Hulloa, my dear!" shouted old Mrs. Felmore, when she entered the downstairs kitchen. "Well, and how have you been, eh? Heard anything of Mr. Durrant yet?" "Not a word, auntie," replied the girl wearily. "And funny enough Mr. Boyne’s gone away. I haven’t seen him these last three days. I can’t think where he can be. I have a kind of feeling that something must have happened to him," said the deaf old woman. "Why, auntie?" asked the girl, placing her hand-bag upon the table and sinking into a chair. "Well, he’s never gone away like this before. He always tells me when he intends being away." "When was he at home last?" "Three days ago. He went out in the evening, and he’s not returned. I’ve had to feed poor little Nibby, or he’d be starving," replied the woman. "Yes, auntie, it is curious that Mr. Boyne isn’t back." "It’s so lonely here. I get such creepy feelings at night, dear," said the woman. "It’s bad enough to be here all day alone, but—well, I don’t know, but I have a feeling that something is going to happen." That feeling would have been greatly increased had she but known that, not ten minutes before, Boyne had stood at the corner of the street and watched the girl enter his house. Indeed, he had waited outside the bank, and had seen Marigold come out. Then he had followed her, and with satisfaction, when she had taken the underground to Hammersmith. As he followed her in the crowd along the street, he muttered some sinister words beneath his breath: "I have dealt with your lover, young lady," he growled to himself. "Now I must lose no time in dealing with you. You have only yourselves to blame for trying to poke your noses into my private affairs!" Then he watched her disappear down the area steps, and afterwards crossed the bridge, and made a call upon a man he knew who lived in Castelnau Mansions. Old Mrs. Felmore got her niece some cold meat and tea, for the girl had taken off her coat and hat, having decided to spend the evening with her aunt.