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It so happened that, at that moment, Mansus had called from upstairs, and the officer, who had been told off to keep the valet under observation, ran up in answer to the summons. For a moment Fisher hesitated, then hatless and coatless as he was, he crept to the door, opened it, leaving it ajar behind him and darting down the steps, ran like a hare from the house.
"I agree with you. Always remember that, Mansus. That there was one occasion in your life when T. X. Meredith and you thought alike." Mansus smiled a little feebly.
T. X. nodded to Mansus and with something of gratitude in his eyes the inspector took his leave. "Now Mansus has departed," said T. X., sitting himself on the edge of his desk and selecting with great care a cigarette from the case he took from his pocket, "let me know something of the reason for this sudden interest in the great ones of the earth." Sir George smiled grimly.
"My God!" she breathed, "London. . . . in the twentieth century. . . !" Superintendent Mansus had a little office in Scotland Yard proper, which, he complained, was not so much a private bureau, as a waiting-room to which repaired every official of the police service who found time hanging on his hands.
The run across the moor in the fresh spring air revived him a little. As they spun down to the valley of the Dart, Mansus touched his arm. "Look at that," he said, and pointed to the blue heavens where, a mile above their heads, a white-winged aeroplane, looking no larger than a very distant dragon fly, shimmered in the sunlight. "By Jove!" said T. X. "What an excellent way for a man to escape!"
The information was that the lady was fairly well off at this moment, and this fact made matters all the more puzzling and almost induced him to believe that, after all, the story was true, and a nervous breakdown really was the cause of her sudden departure. He sent for Mansus. "You saw Lady Bartholomew off at Charing Cross, I suppose?" Mansus nodded. "She went alone?"
T. X. read the letter over twice and his eyes were troubled. "Poor girl," he said softly, and handed the letter to Mansus. "He evidently wants to see you because he is afraid of using my friendship to his advantage. I shall be here, nevertheless." "What will be the formality?" asked Mansus. "There will be no formality," said the other briskly.
Have you lost anything'?" Mansus was searching his pockets. "I made a few notes, some questions I wanted to ask you about and Lady Bartholomew was the subject of one of them. I have had her under observation for six months; do you want it kept up?" T. X. thought awhile, then shook his head. "I am only interested in Lady Bartholomew in so far as Kara is interested in her.
Here is a cigarette end, Mansus, Gold Flake brand," he said, as he examined it carefully, "and a Gold Flake brand smokes for twelve minutes in normal weather, but about eight minutes in gusty weather. A car was here for about twenty-four minutes what do you think of that, Mansus?" "A good bit of reasoning, T. X.," said the other calmly, "if it happens to be the car you're looking for."
He held out his hand and she grasped it and somehow at that moment there came to T. X. Meredith a new courage, a new faith and a greater determination than ever to solve this troublesome mystery. He found Mansus waiting for him in a car outside and in a few minutes they were at the scene of the tragedy.
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