“That's the reverend gentleman's view, at any rate,” said Sowerby, “and he's written three books on the subject of early Norman churches! He even goes so far as to say that he has heard--as a sort of legend--of the existence of a very large Carmelite monastery, accommodating over two hundred brothers, which stood somewhere adjoining the Thames within the area now covered by Limehouse Causeway and Pennyfields. There is a little turning not far from the wharf, known locally--it does not appear upon any map--as Prickler's Lane; and my friend, the vicar, tells me that he has held the theory for a long time”--Sowerby referred to his notebook with great solemnity--“that this is a corruption of Pre-aux-Clerce Lane.” “H'm!” said Dunbar; “very ingenious, at any rate. Anything else?” “Nothing much,” said Sowerby, scanning his notes, “that you don't know already. There was some very good stuff in the place--Oriental ware and so on, a library of books which I'm told is unique, and a tremendous stock of opium and hashish. It's a perfect maze of doors and observation-traps. There's a small kitchen at the end, near the head of the tunnel--which, by the way, could be used as a means of entrance and exit at low tide. All the electric power came through the meter of Kan-Suh Concessions.” “I see,” said Dunbar, reflectively, glancing at his watch; “in a word, we know everything except”... “What's that?” said Sowerby, looking up. “The identity of Mr. King!” replied the inspector, reaching for his hat which lay upon the table. Sowerby replaced his book in his pocket. “I wonder if any of the bodies will ever come ashore?” he said. “God knows!” rapped Dunbar; “we can't even guess how many were aboard. You might as well come along, Sowerby, I've just heard from Dr. Cumberly. Mrs. Leroux”... “Dead?” “Dying,” replied the inspector; “expected to go at any moment. But the doctor tells me that she may--it's just possible--recover consciousness before the end; and there's a bare chance”... “I see,” said Sowerby eagerly; “of course she must know!” The two hastened to Palace Mansions. Despite the lateness of the hour, Whitehall was thronged with vehicles, and all the glitter and noise of midnight London surrounded them. “It only seems like yesterday evening,” said Dunbar, as they mounted the stair of Palace Mansions, “that I came here to take charge of the case. Damme! it's been the most exciting I've ever handled, and it's certainly the most disappointing.” “It is indeed,” said Sowerby, gloomily, pressing the bell-button at the side of Henry Leroux's door. The door was opened by Garnham; and these two, fresh from the noise and bustle of London's streets, stepped into the hushed atmosphere of the flat where already a Visitant, unseen but potent, was arrived, and now was beckoning, shadowlike, to Mira Leroux. “Will you please sit down and wait,” said Garnham, placing chairs for the two Scotland Yard men in the dining-room.