carried our missing securities in his pocket?" asked Joseph quietly. "Because we, at any rate, know they're gone!"
"Oh, well!" said the Earl, "I—I merely suggest it, you know. The country between here and Ellersdeane is a bit rough and wild—there's Ellersdeane Hollow, you know—a queer place on a dark night. And if a man took a short cut—as many people do—through the Hollow, there are places he could fall into. But, as I say, I merely suggest that as a reasonable theory."
"What does your lordship propose to do?" asked Gabriel.
"I certainly think inquiry should be set going," answered the Earl.
"Already done," remarked Joseph drily. "Miss Fosdyke has been with the police five minutes."
"I mean—it should be done by us," said the Earl.
"Very well," said Gabriel suddenly, "it shall be done, then. No doubt your lordship would like to give the police your own story. Mr. Neale, will you go with Lord Ellersdeane to Superintendent Polke? Your duty will be to give him the mere information that Mr. Horbury left his house at a quarter to eight on Saturday evening and has not been heard of since. No more, Neale. And now," he concluded, with a bow to the Earl, "your lordship will excuse my partner and myself if we return to a singularly unpleasant task."
Lord Ellersdeane and Neale left the bank-house and walked towards the police-station. They crossed the Market-Place in silence, but as they turned the corner of the Moot Hall, the elder man spoke, touching his companion's shoulder with a confidential gesture.
"I don't believe a word of all that, Mr. Neale!" he said. "Not one word!"
Neale started and glanced at the Earl's moody face.
"Your lordship doesn't believe—?" he began, and checked himself.
"I don't believe that Horbury's done what those two accuse him of," affirmed the Earl. "Not for one moment! I can't account for those missing securities they talk about, but I'll stake my honour that Horbury hasn't got 'em! Nor my wife's jewels either. You heard and saw how astounded that girl was. By the by—who is she!"
"Mr. Horbury's niece—Miss Fosdyke—from London," replied Neale.
"She spoke of her wealth," remarked the Earl.
"Yes," said Neale. "She must be wealthy, too. She's the sole proprietor of Fosdyke's Brewery."
"Ho-ho!" laughed the Earl. "That's it, eh? Fosdyke's Entire! Of course—I've seen the name on no end of public-houses in London. Sole proprietor? Dear me!—why, I have some recollection that Fosdyke, of that brewery, was at one time a member of Parliament."
"Yes," assented Neale. "He married Mr. Horbury's sister. Miss Fosdyke is their only child. Mr. Fosdyke died a few years ago, and she came into the property last year when she was twenty-one."
"Lucky young woman!" muttered the Earl. "Fine thing to own a big brewery. Um! A very modern and up-to-date young lady, too: I liked the way she stood up to your principals. Of course, she'll have told Polke all the story by this time. As for ourselves—what had we better do?"
Neale had considered that question as he came along.
"There's only one thing to do, my lord," he answered. "We want the solution of a problem: what became of Mr. Horbury last Saturday night?"
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