"Can you tell me if Miss Lenora Macdougal is staying here?" he asked at
the office.

The woman shook her head.

"Miss Macdougal stayed here the night before last," she said, "and her
luggage is waiting for orders. She left here yesterday afternoon to go to
her aunt's, and promised to send for her things later on during the day.
There they stand, all ready for her."

Quest followed the direction of the woman's finger. Lenora's familiar
little belongings were there, standing in a corner of the hall.

"You haven't heard from her, then, since she went out yesterday
afternoon?" he asked, with sinking heart.

"No, sir!"

"What time did she go?"

"Directly after an early lunch. It must have been about two o'clock."

Quest hurried away. So after all there was some foundation for this queer
sense of depression which had been hovering about him for the last few
days!

"Scotland Yard," he told the taxi-driver.

He thrust another cigar between his teeth but forgot to light it. He was
amazed at his own sensations, conscious of fears and emotions of which he