"Millie Stretton's husband?" he repeated, in perplexity. "Yes. Don't you remember the couple who stepped out of the dark house in Berkeley Square and dared not whistle for a hansom--the truants?" Warrisden was startled. "Those two!" he exclaimed. "Well, that's strange. On the very night when we saw them, you were saying that there was no road for you, no new road from Quetta to Seistan. I was puzzling my brains, too, as to how in the world you were to be roused out of your detachment; and there were the means visible all the time, perhaps--who knows?--ordained." He sat down again in his chair. "Where shall I look for Mr. Stretton?" he asked. "I don't know. He went away to New York, six months ago, to make a home for Millie and himself. He did not succeed, and he has disappeared." "Disappeared?" cried Warrisden. "Oh, but of his own accord," said Pamela. "I can't tell you why; it wouldn't be fair. I have no right to tell you. But he must be found, and he must be brought back. Again I can't tell you why; but it is most urgent." "Is there any clue to help us?" Warrisden asked. "Had he friends in New York?" "No; but he has a friend in England," said Pamela, "and I think it's just possible that the friend may know where he is to be found, for it was upon his advice that Mr. Stretton went to New York." "Tell me his name." "Mr. Chase," Pamela replied. "He is head of a mission in Stepney Green. Tony Stretton told me of him one morning in Hyde Park just before he went away. He seemed to rely very much upon his judgment." Warrisden wrote the name down in his pocket-book. "Will he tell me, do you think, where Stretton is, even if he knows? You say Stretton has disappeared of his own accord." "I have thought of that difficulty," Pamela answered. "There is an argument which you can use. Sir John Stretton, Tony's father, is ill, and in all probability dying." "I see. I can use the same argument to Stretton himself, I suppose, when I find him?" "I can give you no other," said Pamela; "but you can add to it. Mr. Stretton will tell you that his father does not care whether he comes back in time or not. He is sure to say that. But you can answer that every night since he went away the candles have been lit in his dressing-room and his clothes laid out by his father's orders, on the chance that some evening he might walk in at the door." That Sir John Stretton's illness was merely the pretext for Tony's return both understood. The real reason why he must come home Pamela did not tell. To her thinking Millie was not yet so deeply entangled with Lionel Callon but that Tony's home-coming might set the tangle right. A few weeks of companionship, and surely he would resume his due place in his wife's thoughts. Pamela, besides, was loyal to her sex. She had promised to safeguard Millicent; she was in no mind to betray her.