In a few words Sir Silas explained the situation, and in spite of professional jealousy the detective was bound to admit that Atherton's deductions were quite sufficient to justify the step the baronet was about to take. Sir Silas touched the bell communicating with the butler's private room. He waited a full minute and rang again. There was no reply. "Strikes me very forcibly that I've given the fellow a chance and he's taken it, by Jove!" remarked Sir Silas, as he touched an electric push that rang a bell in the servants' hall. "Jones, go to Tassh's room and tell him to come instantly," ordered the baronet, as a young under-footman entered. "Stay: perhaps, Mr Polglaze, you would like to accompany Jones?" Two minutes later the detective returned. "He's in his room, sir, but he's locked himself in," announced Polglaze. "I demanded admittance three times, but before I burst open the door I thought I would tell you, Sir Silas." "Do you think Tassh has done himself an injury?" asked the baronet, anxiously. "Judging by the man's appearance I should say not. He may have slipped off. Station two of your Scouts outside his window, Mr Buckley, if you don't mind." The under-footman pointed out the window to Baker and Mayne, and returned with the intelligence that it was closed. Since the window was fifteen feet from the ground, and had a very narrow sill, it was most unlikely that Tassh could have made good his escape and at the same time closed the window after him. Outside, in the corridor, Sir Silas, the detective, the Scoutmaster and the remaining Scouts halted. Polglaze knelt down and attempted to peep through the keyhole. The key was in the lock and effectually thwarted the detective's action. "Does Tassh carry firearms, sir?" he asked. "Not to my knowledge." "Then it is possible that he is armed. If he is desperate we may have a lively reception. Suppose, Sir Silas, we tell these lads to go downstairs out of danger? We will then wait till Coombes and Gregory arrive, force the door and rush our man." Somewhat reluctantly in spirit, yet with alacrity, the Scouts obeyed their Scoutmaster's order to get out of harm's way. As they were descending the stairs the sergeant and the village policeman, both very red in the face with exertion, came hurrying up. "Open the door instantly, Tassh," ordered Sir Silas in a loud voice. There was no reply. Only the ticking of a grandfather's clock at the head of the stairs and the laboured breathing of the two policemen broke the silence. "Force it," said the baronet, laconically. Polglaze put his shoulder to the door. The good, old-fashioned oak resisted his efforts. "Bear a hand here, Coombes," he said. "Now, together." The sixteen-stone Cornish sergeant's weight added to the detective's modest eleven did the trick. The door, forced from its hinges, flew inwards, Coombes following it and sprawling heavily upon the floor. The room was empty.