"Good!" said Cleek. "We'll make sure to save time. Now, let's see; here is one piece of wood. Now for the five others." He paced slowly over the floor, marking at regular intervals with a piece of chalk a little dark piece of the parquet flooring. "Three, four, five, six--the six points right enough. Now to find the centre." Kneeling down, Mr. Narkom watched him draw long white chalk lines from point to point. Finally he gave a little satisfied grunt, stood up, and surveyed his handiwork. "Move a little away, Mr. Narkom, and if we aren't too late, we shall see what we shall see," he cried, excitedly. Advancing into the centre of the room, he bent down over the centre piece of wood. As he did so, there came the horrible moaning cry, causing even Mr. Narkom's hardened nerves to fail him. With a crash the torch fell from his fingers, leaving them in total darkness! "I forgot; I ought to have warned you--it's quite all right," said Cleek, taken aback. "Gad, Cleek, it startled me. What is it?" whispered the Superintendent. "Have I ruined your plans?" Cleek felt for his own torch and snapped it on so that the little disc of white light fell distinctly upon the floor. "Never mind," said he, serenely. "It doesn't matter now, I have learnt all I want for the present. Come, let's get out of this. _That_ is the answer to the riddle, and we are only just in time." CHAPTER XXIII UNTWISTING THE THREADS In the big uncurtained ballroom of Cheyne Court the next morning, a plentiful gathering assembled for the inquest which had been postponed from the week before, and Mr. Narkom, who had entered with Cleek and a number of strangers that to an observant eye would have revealed themselves as plain-clothes men, watched the entry of every newcomer with almost morbid expectancy. Early arrivals were Lady Brenton and Sir Edgar, who at Cleek's request had returned from town that same morning, after a presumably futile search for any trace of Lady Margaret. The boy's face was lined and anxious, his nerves evidently strained to breaking point. Close beside him sat Lady Brenton, her arm clenched tight in his, and Cleek smiled a little as he noticed that she wore a gold scarf--obviously the one which had been given such unwonted publicity the preceding week. It was not exactly morning attire, but she had evidently worn it in defiance of all gossip. Jennifer Wynne and her brother were there, too, pale both of them, with eyes that told a tale of sleepless nights. Close beside them stood the immaculate, dapper figure of Gunga Dall, his dark eyes flashing from one face to the other, and lingering with a little smile on the perturbed countenance of Lady Brenton. It seemed as though he were quite satisfied with his work.