among ourselves and look into the thing. But we haven't found him, Nigel.
He's vanished--completely!"

"Impossible!"

Merriton was out of bed now, still staring sleepily at them. Something in
the boyishness of him struck a chord of sympathy in the doctor's heart.
He alone of all of them had guessed at the genuineness of Nigel's fear
for Wynne, he alone had seen into the man's heart, and discovered the
half-belief that lurked there.

"I'm afraid it's perfectly true," he said quietly, as Merriton came to
him and caught him by the arm, his face white. "We followed his tracks
across the Fens--it had been raining and it was extremely easy to
do--until they suddenly ended in a patch of half-charred grass. It was
uncanny! We made a further search to make sure, but nothing rewarded our
efforts. Dacre Wynne's gone somewhere, and those devilish flames of yours
will be counting another victim to their lengthening list to-night."

"Good God!"

Merriton's lips trembled, and his fingers dropped from the doctor's arm.

"But I tell you it's impossible, man!" he broke out suddenly. "The
thing's beyond human credulity, Doctor."

"Well, be that as it may, the fact remains--Wynne's gone," returned the
doctor gloomily. "Of course we must communicate with the police. That's
the next thing to do. We'll send over to make sure Wynne isn't at the
Brellier's but I think there isn't a chance of it myself. Where he did