"Why did you do that?" "Because he had told me at dinner time about the notes, and made me promise I wouldn't mention it, and I was afraid someone had stolen them." "Is it likely that any one overheard your conversation then? Where were you lunching?" "In the Rose and Crown." Wilson's voice trembled again as though the actual recalling of the thing terrified him anew. "Simmons and I often had lunch together. There was no one else at our table, and the place was practically empty. The only person near was old Ramagee, the black chap who keeps the Indian bazaar in the town. He's an old inhabitant, but even now hardly understands English, and most of the time he's so drugged with opium that if he did hear he'd never understand. He was certainly blind to the world that lunch time--because my--my friend, Simmons, I mean, noticed it." "Indeed!" Cleek stroked his chin thoughtfully for some moments. Then he sniffed the air, and uttered a casual remark: "Fond of sweets still, are you, Mr. Wilson? Peppermint drops or aniseed balls, eh?" Mr. Narkom's eyes fairly bulged with amazement, and young Wilson flushed angrily. "I am not such a fool as all that, Mr. Headland," he said, quickly. "If I don't smoke, I certainly don't go about sucking candy like a kid. I never cared for it as a youngster and I haven't had any for a cat's age. What made you ask?" "Nothing, simply my fancy." But, nevertheless, Cleek continued to sniff, and then suddenly, with a little excited sound, went down on his hands and knees and began examining the stone floor. "It's not possible--and yet--and yet. I must be right," he said, softly, getting to his feet at last. "'A rope of fear' was what he said, wasn't it? 'A rope of fear.'" He crossed suddenly to the safe, and bending over it, examined the handle and doors critically. And at that moment Mr. Brent reappeared. Cleek switched round upon his heel, and smiled across at him. "Able to spare us a little more of your valuable time, Mr. Brent?" he asked, politely. "Well, I was just coming up. There's nothing really to be gained here. I have been looking over the safe for fingerprints, and there's not much doubt about whose they are. Mr. Wilson here had better come upstairs and tell us just exactly what he did with the notes, and----" Young Wilson's face went suddenly gray. He clenched his hands together and breathed hard like a spent runner. "I tell you they were gone," he cried, desperately. "They were gone. I looked for them, and didn't find them. They were gone--gone--gone!" But Cleek seemed not to take the slightest notice of him, and swinging upon his heel followed in the wake of the manager's broad back, while Wilson perforce had to return with Mr. Narkom. Half way up the stairs, however, Cleek suddenly stopped and gave vent to a hurried ejaculation.