“She’s missing since last night,” I replied.  “It came to me that she likely took a short cut across these grounds, and that in doing so she fell in with Sir Gilbert—­or with you—­and was kept, lest she should let out what she’d seen.  That’s the plain truth, Mr. Hollins.”

He was keeping his eyes on me just as steadily as he kept the revolver, and I saw from the look in them that he believed me.

“Aye!” he said.  “I see you can draw conclusions, if it comes to it.  But—­did you keep that idea of yours strictly to yourself, now?”

“Absolutely!” I repeated.

“You didn’t mention it to a soul?” he asked searchingly.

“Not to a soul!” said I.  “There isn’t man, woman, or child knows I’m here.”

I thought he might have dropped the muzzle of the revolver at that, but he still kept it in a line with my nose and made no sign of relaxing his vigilance.  But, as he was silent for the moment, I let out a question at him.

“It’ll do you no harm to tell me the truth, Mr. Hollins,” I said.  “Do you know anything about Miss Dunlop?  Is she safe?  You’ve maybe had a young lady yourself one time or another—­you’ll understand what I’m feeling about it?”

He nodded solemnly at that and in quite a friendly way.

“Aye!” he answered.  “I understand your feelings well enough, Moneylaws—­and I’m a man of sentiment, so I’ll tell you at once that the lass is safe enough, and there’s not as much harm come to her as you could put on a sixpence—­so there!  But—­I’m not sure yet that you’re safe yourself,” he went on, still eyeing me consideringly.  “I’m a soft-hearted man, Moneylaws—­or else you wouldn’t have your brains in their place at this present minute!”

“There’s a mighty lot of chance of my harming you, anyway!” said I, with a laugh that surprised myself.  “Not so much as a penknife on me, and you with that thing at my head.”

“Aye!—­but you’ve got a tongue in that head,” said he.  “And you might be using it!  But come, now—­I’m loth to harm you, and you’d best tell me a bit more.  What’s the police doing?”

“What police do you mean?” I inquired.

“Here, there, everywhere, anywhere!” he exclaimed.  “No quibbles, now!—­you’ll have had plenty of information.”

“They’re acting on yours,” I retorted.  “Searching about Glasgow for Sir Gilbert and Lady Carstairs—­you put us on to that, Mr. Hollins.”

“I had to,” he answered.  “Aye, I put Lindsey on to it, to be sure—­and he took it all in like it was gospel, and so did all of you!  It gained time, do you see, Moneylaws—­it had to be done.”

“Then—­they aren’t in Glasgow?” I asked.

He shook his big head solemnly at that, and something like a smile came about the corners of his lips.

“They’re not in Glasgow, nor near it,” he answered readily, “but where all the police in England—­and in Scotland, too, for that matter—­’ll find it hard to get speech with them.  Out of hand, Moneylaws!—­out of hand, d’ye see—­for the police!”