"I quite understand what you mean, Berrington," he said at last. "Still,
under the circumstances I should have thought--and yet no, I dare say
you are right. I may tell you candidly, though, that I can't help
thinkin' you must be mistaken in your supposition. Jack doesn't care
about women in that way. He never has cared about them. The only thing
he cares about is sport, though, of course, he admires a pretty woman,
as we all do."

To that observation I deemed it prudent to make no reply, and at that
moment a waiter entered and came across the room to us.

"Your lordship is wanted on the telephone," he said solemnly.

"Who is it?" Easterton asked, looking up.

"Scotland Yard, my lord."

"Oh, say, hold the line, and I'll come down."

"Have you informed the police, then?" I asked quickly, when the servant
had left the room.

"Yes. I went to Scotland Yard this mornin', but I told them not to let a
word about the disappearance get into the newspapers, if they could help
it, until they heard further from me, and they promised they would
respect my wish. You had better come down with me. They may have found
out something."

I waited outside the glass hutch, which effectually shut in all sound,
watching Lord Easterton's face below the electric light. His lips moved