“My name is Hardaway,” the latter announced.  “Glad to meet you, Mr. Quest.  We’ve heard of you over here.  Take a chair.”

“To tell you the truth,” Quest replied, “my business is a little urgent.”

“Glad to hear you’ve got that fellow Craig,” Mr. Hardaway continued.  “Ridiculous the way he managed to slip through our fingers.  I understand you’ve got him all right now, though?”

“He is safe enough,” Quest declared, “but to tell you the truth, I’m worried about another little affair.”

“Go on,” the other invited.

“My assistant, a young lady, Miss Lenora Macdougal, has disappeared!  She and I and Professor Ashleigh left the steamer at Plymouth and travelled up in the boat train.  It was stopped at Hamblin Road for the Professor and myself, and Miss Macdougal came on to London.  She was staying at Clifford’s Hotel in Payne Street for the night, and then going on to an aunt.  Well, I’ve found that aunt.  She was expecting the girl but the girl never appeared.  I have been to the hotel where she spent the night before last, and I find that she left there at two o’clock and left word that she would send for her luggage.  She didn’t arrive at her aunt’s, and the luggage is still uncalled for.”

[Illustration:  QUEST FIGHTS HIS WAY TO THE GIRL HE LOVES.]

[Illustration:  AS THE PROFESSOR EXPLAINED THE CELLAR’S HISTORY TO QUEST, THE STONE CROSS CLOSED ON THE FRIGHTENED SERVANT.]

The Inspector was at first only politely interested.  It probably occurred to him that young ladies have been known before now to disappear from their guardians for a few hours without serious results.

“Where did this aunt live?” he enquired.

“Number 17, Princes’ Court Road, West Kensington,” Quest replied.  “She had just moved there from Elsmere Road, Hampstead.  I went first to Hampstead.  Lenora had been there and learnt her aunt’s correct address in West Kensington.  I followed on to West Kensington and found that her aunt was still awaiting her.”

A new interest seemed suddenly to have crept into Hardaway’s manner.

“Let me see,” he said, “if she left Clifford’s Hotel about two, she would have been at Hampstead about half-past two.  She would waste a few minutes in making enquiries, then she probably left Hampstead for West Kensington, say, at a quarter to three.”

“Somewhere between those two points,” Quest pointed out, “she has disappeared.”

“Give me at once a description of the young lady,” Mr. Hardaway demanded.

Quest drew a photograph from his pocket and passed it silently over.  The official glanced at it and down at some papers which lay before him.  Then he looked at the clock.

“Mr. Quest,” he said, “it is just possible that your visit here has been an exceedingly opportune one.”

He snatched his hat from a rack and took Quest by the arm.

“Come along with me,” he continued.  “We’ll talk as we go.”