“That you, Mr. Theydon?” said the butler.

“Yes.”

“Have you had any news of Mr. Forbes, sir?”

“Yes.  He has just left me.”

“Ah, if only I had known, and had given you a call before ringing up the city!”

“What is it?  Can I do anything?”

“It’s Miss Evelyn, sir.”

“Yes, what of her?”

“She’s gone, sir.”

Theydon’s heart apparently stopped for a second, and then raced madly into tumultuous action again.

“Gone!  Good Lord, man, what do you mean?” he almost groaned.

“A telegram came from Mrs. Forbes, at Eastbourne, saying she was ill and wanted Miss Evelyn.  I tried all I knew to persuade Miss Evelyn to wait until she had spoken to her father, but she wouldn’t listen—­ she just threw on a hat and a wrap, and took a taxi to Victoria.”

Some membrane or film of tissue which might have served hitherto to shut off from Frank Theydon’s cheery temperament any real knowledge of the pitfalls which may beset the path of the unwary seemed in that instant to shrivel as though it had been devoured by flame.

He knew, how or why he could never tell, that the girl had been drawn into the plot which had already claimed so many victims and sought so many more.  All doubt vanished.  He spoke and acted with the swift certainty of a man tackling an emergency for which he had prepared during a long period of training and expectation.

“Mr. Forbes may arrive at any moment, Tomlinson,” he said.  “Tell his office people to let you know if he goes first to the city.  When you hear from or see him, say that I have either accompanied or followed Miss Evelyn to Eastbourne.  If I do not catch the same train I shall take prompt measures in other respects.  Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

It was easy to distinguish the relief in Tomlinson’s utterance, relief mingled, doubtless, with astonishment that a comparative stranger should display such an authoritative and prompt interest in the family affairs.

“That is all.  Write down my message, lest you omit any part of it.”

Theydon rang off.

“Come!” he said to Bates, who had not retired to his den, but was listening, discreet yet rabbit-eared, to these queer proceedings.  Followed by the manservant, he darted into the sitting room and did several things at once.

He unlocked a drawer and took from it a considerable sum of money which he kept there for emergency journeys, also pocketing an automatic pistol.  Pouncing on an A B C time table, be looked up the trains for East-bourne.  A fast train left Victoria at 1:25 p. m.  The hour was now 1:05.

Meanwhile he was talking.