it on a centre table before Betty. "Now, Miss Fosdyke, you get to work on that."
For over an hour the four curiously assorted searchers examined the contents of the missing man's desk, of another desk in the study, of certain letter-racks which hung above the mantelpieces in both rooms, of drawers in these rooms, of drawers and small cabinets in his bedroom. Starmidge turned out the pockets of all the clothing he could find: opened suit-cases, trunks, dressing-cases. They found nothing of the nature desired. And just as half-past one came, and Polke was wondering what Starmidge would do next, Jones came back and called him into the inner hall.
"I've got some news of her," he whispered. "She's off—from Scarnham, anyway, sir! I couldn't get any word of her in the town, nor at the cab-places: in fact, it's only within this last five minutes that I've got it."
"Well?" demanded Polke eagerly. "And what is it?"
"Young Mitchell, who has a taxi-cab of his own, you know," said Jones. "He told me—heard I was inquiring. He says that at half-past ten, just as he was coming out of his shed in River Street, Mrs. Carswell came up and asked him to drive her into Ecclesborough. He did—they got there at half-past eleven: he set her down at the Exchange Station. Then he came back—alone. So—she's got two hours' good start, sir—if she really is off!"
