"The cap and apron puzzled me a little at first," he said at length. "But it is certainly Mrs Saxton; in other words, I take it, the parlourmaid at Forest View." "Just what I suspected," cried Varney. "I was thinking about the woman, firmly convinced in my own mind that she was different from what she pretended to be. In a flash I thought of Mrs Saxton. I got a snap at her in the garden yesterday morning, without her seeing me, so as to bring it to you for identification." "Forest View seems to be the centre of the mystery," said Smeaton slowly. "Well, this is not the infernal news, I suppose? There is something more to come." And Varney blurted out the astonishing tale. "Forest View is empty. They made tracks in the night--while we were all sound asleep." Smeaton thought of Johnson's recommendation to watch the house by night as well as day. He reproached himself for his own carelessness when dealing with such wary adversaries. "Tell me all about it," he said sharply. Varney went on with his story. "It has been my custom to stroll round there every night about eleven o'clock, when the lights are put out, generally to the minute," he said. "I did the same thing last evening; they were extinguished a few minutes later than usual, but I did not attach any importance to that." "They were packing up, I suppose, and got a little over their time," observed Smeaton. "No doubt. I am usually a light sleeper, but I had taken a long cycle ride in the afternoon, and slept heavily till late in the morning. I took my usual stroll after breakfast. The gate was closed, but there were marks of heavy wheels on the gravel, and all the blinds were down. I went up to the door, and rang the bell. Nobody answered." "Did they take all the furniture?" queried Smeaton. "No, they could not have moved it in the time." "I am certain, from the marks, only one van had gone in and come out. They only removed what was valuable and important. I questioned the local constable. He saw a van pass, going in the direction of London, but had no idea of where it had come from. Some of them, I expect, got into the van, and the others took a circuitous route in the motor." Smeaton listened to all this with profound chagrin. He rose and paced the room. "I am fed up with the whole thing, Varney," he said, in a despondent voice. "I have followed two clues already that seemed promising, and they turn into will-o'-the-wisps. And now we've got to begin all over again with this Forest View lot." Varney agreed. As a relief from the strain and tension of this most baffling case, he suggested that Smeaton should dine with him at the Savage Club that night, to talk things over. After an excellent dinner, they recovered somewhat from the depression caused by the recent untoward events. They went into the Alhambra for an hour, and then strolled up Coventry Street.