Shortly they were settled in a first-class carriage on the way to Heathton. Sophy was suffering acutely, but did all in her power to hide her feelings, and, contrary to Alan's expectations, hardly a word was spoken about the strange letter, and the greater part of the journey was passed in silence. At Heathton he put Sophy and Miss Vicky into a fly. "Drive at once to the Moat House," he said. "To-morrow we shall consider what is to be done." "And you, Alan?" "I am going to see Mr. Phelps. He, if any one, will know what value to put upon that letter. Try and sleep, Sophy. I shall see you in the morning." "Sleep?" echoed the poor girl, in a tone of anguish. "I feel as though I should never sleep again!" When they had driven away, Alan took the nearest way to the Rectory. It was some way from the station, but Alan was a vigorous walker, and soon covered the distance. He arrived at the door with a beating heart and dry lips, feeling, he knew not why, that he was about to hear bad news. The gray-haired butler ushered him into his master's presence, and immediately the young man felt that his fears were confirmed. Phelps looked worried. He was a plump little man, neat in his dress and cheerful in manner. He was a bachelor, and somewhat of a cynic. Alan had known him all his life, and could have found no better adviser in the dilemma in which he now found himself. Phelps came forward with outstretched hands. "My dear boy, I am indeed glad! What good fairy sent you here? A glass of port? You look pale. I am delighted to see you. If you had not come I should have had to send for you." "What do you wish to see me about, sir? asked Alan. "About the disappearance of these two people." "What two people?" asked the young man, suddenly alert. "You forget that I have been away from Heathton for the last three days." "Of course, of course. Well, one is Brown, the stranger who stayed with Mrs. Marry." "The Quiet Gentleman?" "Yes. I heard them call him so in the village. A very doubtful character. He never came to church," said the Rector sadly. "However, it seems he has disappeared. Two nights ago--in fact, upon the evening of the day upon which poor Marlow's funeral took place, he left his lodgings for a walk. Since then," added the Rector impressively, "he has not returned." "In plain words, he has taken French leave," said Thorold, filling his glass. "Oh, I should not say that, Alan. He paid his weekly account the day before he vanished. He left his baggage behind him. No, I don't think he intended to run away. Mrs. Marry says he was a good lodger, although she knew very little about him. However, he has gone, and his box remains. No one saw him after he left the village about eight o'clock. He was last seen by Giles Hale passing the church in the direction of the moor. To-day we searched the moor, but could find no trace of him. Most mysterious," finished the Rector, and took some port. "Who is the other man?" asked Alan abruptly.