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Updated: May 14, 2025
John Lexman threw off the cover and leapt out and as he did so the car turned and sped back the way it had come. For a moment he thought he was alone, and looked around. Far away in the distance he saw the grey bulk of Princetown Gaol. It was an accident that he should see it, but it so happened that a ray of the sun fell athwart it and threw it into relief. He was alone on the moors!
The next morning John Lexman was lodged in Lewes gaol on a charge of wilful murder. A telegram brought Mansus from London to Beston Tracey, and T. X. received him in the library. "I sent for you, Mansus, because I suffer from the illusion that you have more brains than most of the people in my department, and that's not saying much."
All the vanished author's books were selling as they had never sold before, and the executor's work was made the heavier by the fact that Grace Lexman had possessed an aunt who had most in inconsiderately died, leaving a considerable fortune to her "unhappy niece." "I will keep the trusteeship another year," he told the solicitor who came to consult him that morning.
The author had sketched the events of the day. He had described his interview with the money-lender the day before and the arrival of the letter. "You have the letter!" asked T. X. John Lexman nodded. "I am glad of that," said the other with a sigh of relief, "that will save you from a great deal of unpleasantness, my poor old chap. Tell me what happened afterward."
"Of course from the point of view of the observer this was the worst place possible, so whoever came here, if they did come here, dropping revolver bullets about, must have chosen the spot because it was get-at-able from another direction. Obviously he couldn't come down the road and climb in without attracting the attention of the Greek who was waiting for Mr. Lexman.
It happened that this particular night was a Monday night and T. X. was faced with a dilemma. The night porter, who had only the vaguest information on the subject, thought that the day porter might know more, and aroused him from his sleep. Yes, Mrs. Lexman had gone. She went on the Sunday, an unusual day to pay a week-end visit, and she had taken with her two bags.
"The terms of our charter, set down by Alexander Lexman himself, specify that we are to work toward improvements in the technique of space travel. It said nothing about fantasies and daydreams. No ah hyperdrive research is taking place at this institute, and none will take place so long as we remain true to the spirit of Alexander Lexman."
John Lexman rose from the sofa, crossed to the safe, unlocked it and was unlocking the steel drawer in which he had placed the incriminating document. His hand was on the key when T. X. noticed the look of surprise on his face. "What is it!" asked the detective suddenly. "This drawer feels very hot," said John, he looked round as though to measure the distance between the safe and the fire.
He favoured the newcomer with a little bow and taking upon himself the honours of the establishment, pushed a chair to his visitor. "I think you know my name," said Kara easily, "I am a friend of poor Lexman's." "So I am told," said T. X., "but don't let your friendship for Lexman prevent your sitting down."
A man rose to his feet, as John Lexman entered and crossed the room with an easy carriage. He was a man possessed of singular beauty of face and of figure. Half a head taller than the author, he carried himself with such a grace as to conceal his height. "I missed you in town," he said, "so I thought I'd run down on the off chance of seeing you."
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