“That is quite true,” I answered.  “The guard put them in my carriage.”

“Did you converse with them during the journey, sir?”

“The man was asleep all the way,” I answered.  “He never even opened his eyes till we were practically in London.”

“You talked, perhaps, with the young lady?” the man inquired.

“If I did,” I answered serenely, “it seems to me that it was my business.”

The police inspector was imperturbable.

“When was the last time you saw this Mr. Delora?” he asked.

“At Charing Cross Station,” I answered.  “He left the carriage directly the train stopped and went to get a hansom.  He had been sea-sick coming over, and was anxious to get to the hotel very quickly.”

“Leaving his niece alone?” the man asked.

“Leaving her in my care,” I answered.  “We were all coming to the same hotel, and the young lady and I had been in conversation for some time.”

“He asked you, then, to take care of her?” the man inquired.

“The request as he made it,” I answered, “was a perfectly natural one.  By the bye,” I continued, “who sent for you?”

“We were advised of Mr. Delora’s disappearance by the proprietor of the hotel,” the inspector answered.

“How do you know that it is a disappearance at all?” I asked.  “Mr. Delora may have met some friends.  He is not obliged to come here.  In other words, if he chooses to disappear, he surely has a perfect right to!  Are you acting upon Miss Delora’s instructions?”

“No!” the inspector answered.  “Miss Delora has not moved in the matter.”

“Then I consider,” I declared, “that your action is premature, and I have nothing to say.”

The inspector was temporarily nonplussed.  My view of the situation was perfectly reasonable, and my assumption that there was some other reason for their visit was not without truth.  The man in the plain clothes, who had been listening intently but as yet had not spoken, intervened.

“Captain Rotherby,” he said, “I am a detective from Scotland Yard,—­in fact I am the head of one of the departments.  We know you quite well to be a young gentleman of family, and above suspicion.  We feel sure, therefore, that we can rely upon you to help us in any course we may take which is likely to lead to the detection of crime or criminals.”

“Up to a certain point,” I assented, “you are perfectly right.”

“There are circumstances connected with these people the Deloras, uncle and niece,” the detective continued, “which require investigation.”

“I am sorry,” I answered, “but I cannot at present answer any more questions, except with Miss Delora’s permission.”

“You can tell me this, Captain Rotherby,” the detective asked, looking at me keenly, “do you know whether Miss Delora has been in communication with her uncle since she reached the hotel?”

“I have no idea,” I answered.