"Away where?"

"In Scotland. He went there for the Twelfth--when the shooting
season opened."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes; he rang me up the day before he left to ask us to keep an eye on
his house while he was away."

There was a pause at the Scotland Yard end of the telephone. Inspector
Chippenfield was evidently thinking hard.

"We may have been hoaxed," he said at length. "But I have been ringing
up his house and can get no answer. You had better send up a couple of
men there at once--better still, go yourself. It is a matter which may
require tactful handling. Let me know, and I'll come out immediately if
there is anything wrong. Stay! How long will it take you to get up to
the house?"

"Not more than fifteen minutes--in a taxi."

"Well, I'll ring you up at the house in half an hour. Should our
information be correct see that everything is left exactly as you find it
till I arrive."

Inspector Seldon hung up the receiver of his telephone, bundled up the
papers scattered on his desk, closed it, and stepped out of his office
into the next room.