perhaps we'll hear something. It's a difficult thing for a well-known man to get clear away from a little place like this. No!—what I'd like to know—what I want to satisfy myself about is—did Mr. Horbury go away at all? Is there really anything missing from the bank? Are those jewels really missing? You see," concluded Starmidge, looking round his circle of listeners, "there's an awful lot to take into account."
At that moment Polke's domestic servant tapped at the door and put her head inside the room.
"If you please, Mr. Polke, there's Mrs. Pratt, from the Station Hotel, would like a word with you," she said.
The superintendent hurried from the room—to return at once with a stout, middle-aged woman, who, as she entered, raised her veil and glanced half-suspiciously at Polke's other visitors.
"All friends here, Mrs. Pratt," said the superintendent reassuringly. "You know young Mr. Neale well enough. This lady is Mr. Horbury's niece—anxious to find him. That gentleman's a friend of mine—you can say aught you like before him. Well, ma'am!—you think you can tell me something about this affair? What might it be, now?"
Mrs. Pratt, taking the chair which Starmidge placed for her at the end of the table, nodded a general greeting to the company, and lifting her veil and untying her bonnet-strings, revealed a good-natured countenance.
"Well, Mr. Polke," she said, turning to the superintendent, "taking your word for it that we're
