"From the appearance of the room, therefore, you should judge that she intended to return?" "Ye-es, my lord--and yet I must say, I was surprised to see so few things about, and the skirt and shoes were very shabby." "I suppose that by this time every one knows the girl is missing?" Cyril asked. "The upper servants do, and the detective was after me to tell him all about her, but I wouldn't say a word till I had asked what your lordship's wishes are." "I thought Judson had left the castle?" "So he has, my lord; this is the man from Scotland Yard. Griggs is his name. He was 'ere before Judson, but he had left the castle before you arrived." Impossible even to attempt, to keep her disappearance a secret, thought Cyril. After all, perhaps she was not his _protégée_. He was always jumping at erroneous conclusions, and a description is so misleading. On the other hand, the combination of black hair and blue eyes was a most unusual one. Besides, it was already sufficiently remarkable that two young and beautiful women had fled from Newhaven on the same day (beauty being alas such a rarity!), but that three should have done so was well-nigh incredible. But could even the most superior of upper servants possess that air of breeding which was one of the girl's most noticeable attributes. It was, of course, within the bounds of possibility that this maid was well-born and simply forced by poverty into a menial position. One thing was certain--if his _protégée_ was Priscilla Prentice, then this girl, in spite of her humble occupation, was a lady, and consequently more than ever in need of his protection and respect. Well, assuming that it was Prentice he had rescued, what part had she played in the tragedy? Why had she feared arrest? She must have been present at the murder, but even in that case, why did she not realise that Lady Wilmersley's unbalanced condition would prevent suspicion from falling on any one else? The police had never even thought of her! And where had she hidden her mistress? It was all most mysterious. Cyril sat weighing the _pros and cons_ of one theory after another, completely oblivious of his housekeeper's presence. Douglas, entering, discreetly interrupted his cogitations: "The inquest is about to begin, my lord." CHAPTER VII THE INQUEST On entering the hall Cyril found that a seat on the right hand of the coroner had been reserved for him, but he chose a secluded corner from which he could watch the proceedings unobserved. On the left of Mr. Tinker sat a tall, imposing-looking man, who, on inquiry, proved to be Inspector Griggs. The first part of the inquest developed nothing new. It was only when Mustapha stepped forward that Cyril's interest revived and he forgot the problem of his _protégée's_ identity.