“What are you getting at, kid?” Laura demanded.

“At Craig, if I can,” Lenora replied, moving towards the telephone.  “Please give me the phototelesme.  I am going to talk to the Professor.”

Laura adjusted the mirror to the instrument and Lenora rang up.  The Professor himself answered the call.

“Have you seen the three o’clock edition, Professor?” Lenora asked.

“I never read newspapers, young lady,” the Professor replied.

“Let me tell you what they say about Mr. Quest!”

Lenora commenced a rambling account of what she had read in the newspaper.  All the time the eyes of the two girls were fixed upon the mirror.  They could see the Professor seated in his chair with two huge volumes by his side, a pile of manuscript, and a pen in his hand.  They could even catch the look of sympathy on his face as he listened attentively.  Suddenly Lenora almost broke off.  She gripped Laura by the arm.  The door of the study had been opened slowly, and Craig, carrying a bundle, paused for a moment on the threshold.  He glanced nervously towards the Professor, who seemed unaware of his entrance.  Then he moved stealthily towards the fireplace, stooped down and committed something to the flames.  The relief on his face, as he stood up, was obvious.

“All I can do for Mr. Quest, young lady, I will,” the Professor promised.  “If you will forgive my saying so, you are a little over-excited just now.  Take my advice and rest for a short time.  Call round and see me whenever you wish.”

He laid the receiver down and the reflection on the mirror faded away.  Lenora started up and hastily put on her coat and hat, which were still lying on the chair.

“I am going right down to the Professor’s,” she announced.

“What do you think you can do there?” Laura asked.

“I am going to see if I can find out what that man burnt,” she replied.  “I will be back in an hour.”

Laura walked with her as far as the street car, and very soon afterwards Lenora found herself knocking at the Professor’s front door.  Craig admitted her almost at once.  For a moment he seemed to shiver as he recognised her.  The weakness, however, was only momentary.  He showed her into the study with grave deference.  The Professor was still immersed in his work.  He greeted her kindly, and with a little sigh laid down his pen.

“Well, young lady,” he said, “have you thought of something I can do?”

She took no notice of the chair to which he pointed, and rested her hand upon his shoulder.

“Professor,” she begged, “go and see Mr. Quest!  He is in the Tombs prison.  It would be the kindest thing any one could possibly do.”

The Professor glanced regretfully at his manuscript, but he did not hesitate.  He rose promptly to his feet.

“If you think he would appreciate it, I will go at once,” he decided.

Her face shone with gratitude.