"Ah, Sir Edgar, the very man I want," he said, looking into the lined, drawn face, no longer that of a boy, but of a man, and one in deepest trouble at that. "What have you been doing with yourself since last night? I expected you to have joined us in watching Cheyne Court. As it is, you know what has happened, I have no doubt." Sir Edgar's apathetic eyes met his. "Yes," said he, dully. "Miss Cheyne was murdered by those devils, after all. I thought they would. I was sure of it! But what I want to know is, where Lady Margaret is, Mr. Headland? What has become of her? Surely there is some trace of her by this time!" His haunted, anguished eyes watched Cleek's inscrutable face and, notwithstanding the almost complete chain of evidence that was being slowly but surely welded about him, Cleek felt the same instinctive liking for the young man as he had when they had first met. "I should have thought you could have answered that question better yourself, Sir Edgar," he said, quietly. "Why did you rush up to town so unexpectedly?" A wave of scarlet passed over the young man's pallid face. "I was a fool, I suppose, but as I was passing the station I saw, or I fancied I saw, the face of that girl whom Margaret called Aggie and I thought it might be a clue. I wasn't certain, I didn't pay much attention to the creature when I saw her with my girl in Trafalgar Square. And so, without stopping to think, I rushed up the steps, took a ticket, dashed on to the platform, and just had time to tell the porter to take a message up to my mother, who might have been anxious and started off." "Yes," said Cleek, quietly. "But what about this Aggie you speak of? Did you see anything more of her?" "Unfortunately, no, I lost sight of her at Waterloo, and knowing the futility of doing anything further--I--I came back----" Cleek made a little clicking sound indicative of mild despair. "I wish to God you had stayed away all night," he said under his breath. "But that's just what I did do," returned Sir Edgar wearily. "When I got back to Hampton Station, a little boy came running up, and told me that this telegram had been waiting for me at the post office. I didn't stop to question, I can tell you, I simply tore it open, and when I read it, I was over that platform and off again before you could say 'Jack Robinson.'" Cleek's eyes narrowed. "What was in it; you don't happen to have kept it, I suppose?" "As it happens, I have," said Sir Edgar, fumbling in his pocket and producing a crumpled ball of paper which Cleek took from his outstretched fingers. "Hotel Central, come quick. Margaret," he read and Sir Edgar's voice broke in upon his thoughts in a high pitch of excitement: "You can be sure I just rushed up there as fast as trains would carry me--only to find it a hoax. I waited about all night, and came back this morning, none the worse. But I'd like to lay hands on the man who sent me on that wild-goose chase."