“Who are you, sir?”

“I am Cyril Overton.”

“Then it is you who sent me a telegram.  My name is Lord Mount-James.  I came round as quickly as the Bayswater bus would bring me.  So you have instructed a detective?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And are you prepared to meet the cost?”

“I have no doubt, sir, that my friend Godfrey, when we find him, will be prepared to do that.”

“But if he is never found, eh?  Answer me that!”

“In that case, no doubt his family——­”

“Nothing of the sort, sir!” screamed the little man.  “Don’t look to me for a penny—­not a penny!  You understand that, Mr. Detective!  I am all the family that this young man has got, and I tell you that I am not responsible.  If he has any expectations it is due to the fact that I have never wasted money, and I do not propose to begin to do so now.  As to those papers with which you are making so free, I may tell you that in case there should be anything of any value among them, you will be held strictly to account for what you do with them.”

“Very good, sir,” said Sherlock Holmes.  “May I ask, in the meanwhile, whether you have yourself any theory to account for this young man’s disappearance?”

“No, sir, I have not.  He is big enough and old enough to look after himself, and if he is so foolish as to lose himself, I entirely refuse to accept the responsibility of hunting for him.”

“I quite understand your position,” said Holmes, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.  “Perhaps you don’t quite understand mine.  Godfrey Staunton appears to have been a poor man.  If he has been kidnapped, it could not have been for anything which he himself possesses.  The fame of your wealth has gone abroad, Lord Mount-James, and it is entirely possible that a gang of thieves have secured your nephew in order to gain from him some information as to your house, your habits, and your treasure.”

The face of our unpleasant little visitor turned as white as his neckcloth.

“Heavens, sir, what an idea!  I never thought of such villainy!  What inhuman rogues there are in the world!  But Godfrey is a fine lad—­a staunch lad.  Nothing would induce him to give his old uncle away.  I’ll have the plate moved over to the bank this evening.  In the meantime spare no pains, Mr. Detective!  I beg you to leave no stone unturned to bring him safely back.  As to money, well, so far as a fiver or even a tenner goes you can always look to me.”

Even in his chastened frame of mind, the noble miser could give us no information which could help us, for he knew little of the private life of his nephew.  Our only clue lay in the truncated telegram, and with a copy of this in his hand Holmes set forth to find a second link for his chain.  We had shaken off Lord Mount-James, and Overton had gone to consult with the other members of his team over the misfortune which had befallen them.