“It is imperative that you should see me at once. I use the term ‘imperative,’ because it is necessary that there should be no delay about the matter. Permit me to add that the business has reference to the draft, recently paid into my hands, and drawn by a Mr. Arthur Barnshaw. I must ask you, if quite convenient to yourself, to be good enough to call upon me, at my office, to-morrow (Thursday) before noon. “I am, Dear Sir, “Your obedient servant, “Z. ISAACSON.” The letter bore an address in the neighbourhood of Old Broad Street, London—and was dated that day. Philip Chater read the letter through three times, without coming any nearer to its meaning. Again, the phrase—“drawn by a Mr. Arthur Barnshaw”—was more puzzling than anything else. It was, of course, probable—indeed, almost certain—that this Mr. Arthur Barnshaw was a relative of Madge; but, if so, what relative?—and on what terms of friendship, or otherwise, had he stood with the late Dandy Chater? All these things had to be discovered. “Under any circumstances,” said Philip to himself, “this letter helps me, and points the road that I must travel. For the time, at least, I must get out of the way; this business calls me to London—and to London I will go. The name of Isaacson has a flavour of sixty per cent. and promissory notes; but I must leave explanations to him. I wish I knew who Arthur Barnshaw is.” Still with that dread upon him of the fearful thing in the wood, he determined not to wait until the morrow, but to start for London that night. Finding, however, that it was far too late for any train to be running, he made up his mind to press Harry into his service; and sent for him, without any further delay. The lad made his appearance at once, and stood quietly just within the closed door of the room, waiting for his master to speak. Between the two, from this night onwards, there seemed a tacit understanding that something was not to be mentioned between them, at any time—even while there was an equally strong understanding—also unspoken—that each watched for danger, and was ready to act swiftly, if necessary. “Harry—I am going to London. Yes—yes—I know”—as the other glanced instinctively at the clock—“it’s too late for trains; I must drive as far as possible—and walk the rest. I leave all the details to you; get the horse you think will stay best; we shall go some fifteen miles, and you can then drop me, and drive back. Quick—there is no time to be lost!”