been making a night of it at the Towers.

"However," he continued, "if you say you all retired around about one
o'clock, and Wynne left you soon after ten--well, I can't think what has
become of him...."

"He went out to investigate those devilish flames!" remarked Merriton, as
a rather shamefaced explanation. Then he fairly heard the wires jump with
the force of Brellier's exclamation.

"Eh--what? What's that you say? He went out to investigate the flames,
Merriton? What fool let him go? Surely you know the story?"

"We did. And we did our best to dissuade him, Mr. Brellier," replied
Merriton wearily. "But he went. You know Dacre Wynne as well as I do. He
was set upon going. But he has not come back, and some of the chaps here
set up a search-party to hunt for him. They discovered nothing. Simply
some charred grass in the middle of the Fens and the end of his
footprints.... So he didn't come round to your place then? Thanks. I'm
awfully sorry to have bothered you, but you can understand my anxiety
I know. I'll keep you posted as to any news we get. Yes--horrible, isn't
it? So--so beastly uncanny...."

He hung up the receiver with a drawn face.

"Well, Wynne didn't go there, anyway," he said to the group of men who
clustered round him. "So that's done with. Now we'll just have to possess
our souls in patience, and see what Constable Haggers can do for us. I
vote we tumble in for forty winks before the sun gets too high in the
heavens. It is the most reasonable thing to do in the circumstances."