"My dear Ledsam," he said, "I do hope that you will excuse this
early call. I could only have been an hour behind you on the
road. I dare say you can guess what I have come to see you
about. Can we have a word together?"
"Certainly," was the ready reply. "You remember my friend
Shopland, Sir Timothy? It was Mr. Shopland who arrested young
Fairfax that night at Soto's."
"I remember him perfectly," Sir Timothy declared. "I fancied,
directly I entered, that your face was familiar," he added,
turning to Shopland. "I am rather ashamed of myself about that
night. My little outburst must have sounded almost ridiculous to
you two. To tell you the truth, I quite failed at that time to
give Mr. Ledsam credit for gifts which I have since discovered
him to possess."
"Mr. Shopland and I are now discussing another matter," Francis
went on, pushing a box of cigarettes towards Sir Timothy, who was
leaning against the table in an easy attitude. "Don't go,
Shopland, for a minute. We were consulting together about the
disappearance of a young man, Reggie Wilmore, the brother of a
friend of mine--Andrew Wilmore, the novelist."
"Disappearance?" Sir Timothy repeated, as he lit a cigarette.
"That is rather a vague term."
"The young man has been missing from home for over a week,"
Francis said, "and left no trace whatever of his whereabouts.
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