PROFESSOR BLINKWELL SAT in the lounge with his wife and niece. He was engaged upon the study of a chemical formula of some complexity, which had been sent to him by a brother scientist who was anxious to obtain the benefit of his opinion upon an unexpected difficulty which he had encountered in the course of experimental work. A radio programme of light music was occupying the attention of the ladies sufficiently to secure their contented silence and allow the concentration that the subject required. If his thoughts strayed to the dangerous imbecility of Mr. Snacklit, and its probable consequences, he gave no sign of such deviation. And, indeed, there may have been none, for. Professor Blinkwell had the exceptional quality of mind which will make reality of its own pretence. He had decided that an attitude of utter aloofness to the criminalities which, his intelligence told him, would be the natural result of the orders he had issued was the right one to adopt for his own security. He dismissed them forthwith from his mind. They were matters in which he had no part. Of which he had no knowledge. Which could have no approval from him. . . .

A maid-servant was at the door. "If you please, sir, Mr. Kindell has called, and would like to see you "

"Kindell, Rachel? . . . Oh, yes. I will see the young man.

As the girl withdrew, he rose and switched off the radio.

"Ruth," he said to his wife, who was already preparing to leave the room, "I don t think you'll want to stay. . . . Nor you, Myra." He waited for the moment that must pass before his wife left, and continued: "This is an occasion on which discretion of speech is imperative. Extreme discretion. You had better leave it entirely to me."

Myra rose also, though with less readiness than her aunt, who, besides that she was a professional invalid, which is an exacting occupation, always made it clear that she took no interest in her husband's business affairs. But Myra had no doubt of her own capacity to avoid indiscretions of speech, and would have been interested to hear a conversation which her uncle, she did not doubt, would be able to lead in his own way. Curiosity urged her to remain.

But there was no time to argue, and the idea of refusing obedience did not enter her mind. Rather sulkily she withdrew and Professor Blinkwell was alone when Kindell entered the room.

The Professor led the conversation at once. He grasped his visitor's hand with his maximum of cordiality as he said suavely: "This is an unexpected pleasure. I must congratulate you upon having convinced the S?ret? that you were not involved in that dreadful crime - as it is easy to see that you must have done, or you would not be in London now."

In the brief period which he had had for reflection as he had been driven from Scotland Yard to the Professor's door, Kindell had decided that the time for caution had gone. He did not know in what peril Irene might be, nor how great might be the importance of time. But the doubt was enough to justify almost any violence or any trick which would release her from what he felt must be, at best, some form of detention against her will. He knew that he was dealing with ruthless and frightened men - men who would think only of their own security, and would be ready to buy it at any cost. They must be attacked now, without a moment's delay, and without reservation of any weapon he had.

Yet when the Professor met him with a pose of amity he saw that it might be best to let him show his hand somewhat further before exposing his own. He said, "Even when they are less than satisfied, they cannot go far without proof."

"Under the French system of judicial enquiry," the Professor answered, "I should have said that they can go quite a long way." His voice had a faint note of distaste, as though he disapproved of a system of justice inferior to that of his native land, as an Englishman would be likely to do. He added: "I should not have expected that you would be so promptly released unless their suspicions have found another object. Did you hear anything to suggest that they have solved the mystery of who the murderer could have been?"

"I heard a rumour that they had become interested in the movements of one of the waiters at the hotel." Professor Blinkwell looked mildly interested. "Yes," he said doubtfully, "it is a possible idea. Yet what motive could he have had? Perhaps homicidal mania should be considered. There are cases of epilepsy which have had such unhappy results."

Kindell felt that he was gaining nothing by these exchanges. He became delusively frank in his reply: "I doubt whether epilepsy would be a sufficient explanation. There is another matter in which the man has acted in a way which may admit of innocent explanation, but it is hard to guess what it can be."

"Indeed? Then he is presumably under arrest, which will explain the promptness of your release?"

"That is more than I can say. But the matter which I was about to explain did not come to my knowledge until I had returned to London. He used my name in an audacious manner, evidently thinking that I should be detained in Paris for a longer time than I was."

"Whereas - if I may make a probable guess, and it should be a matter which may be admitted in - shall I say in friendly confidence? - you were actually in no danger at all, being in the confidence of our own police?"

Kindell met this direct and most unexpected attack with a smile which showed him to be equal to his opponent's craft. "What," he asked in a noncommittal tone, "should make you think that?"

"It was Myra's idea rather than mine. It was something she overheard - the inevitable chatter of the hotel - which gave it to her - but it has some support in the fact that you are in London now."

"And they arrested me as a sign of their friendly regard? should have preferred that they had shown it in other ways. But perhaps Myra was also able to explain why they did that?"

"If she was, she did not confide to me. But now you are with us again you can explain it all. That is, if you would like to look in tomorrow at an earlier hour. She has retired tonight, having one of those headaches which will occur when she has nothing more urgent upon her mind."

"I am afraid tomorrow might be too late."

"Too late? My suggestion was that you should make an earlier call."

"So I understood. You have politely asked me to go. But I came to ask your immediate help."

"Then why not have said so at once? If it be within reason and within my power it is not likely to be refused."

Professor Blinkwell said this in a tone of friendly rebuke, and Kindell felt that it was time for a retort which it would be less easy to turn aside.

"It is your influence with Mrs. Collinson that I am anxious to have."

But there was no evidence that the shot went home. "She is a lady whom you think I could influence? Perhaps you will say why, and what you would ask me to do. It is not a name which I can recollect as that of one whom I know."

"Myra knows her."

"That is a different matter. Myra's female friends are more than I am ever likely to count It may be a reason why you should ask for her assistance rather than mine in whatever entanglement - - Unless," he added, with a sudden change of tone, as of one whose mind was illuminated by a new idea, "it is such a matter as you would prefer that she should not know?"

Kindell saw that he was making no progress of any kind. The Professor's skill in verbal fence was impregnable against attempted surprise. He said:

"I had better tell you plainly what has occurred."

The Professor rose. "Kindell," he said, "I don't want to be rude. But if you really want me to do you a favour, you are scarcely going about it in the best way. I was engaged upon important and urgent work when you were announced, in spite of which I did not refuse to see you, but I have given you more than one hint already that I am anxious to resume it without further delay. If you like to come to dinner tomorrow - I shall be fully engaged during the day - I will listen to whatever troubles you have, but I must ask you to be good enough to go now."

"Then I must be equally plain. I am engaged on a matter that will not wait. We have lost too much time already in talk that has led us nowhere. I am concerned for Miss Thurlow's safety, and if you will assist me in that matter, it may be beneficial in other ways."

"Miss Thurlow? You mean the charming daughter of the American Ambassador? Myra pointed her out to me as one who was friendly to you. But what could threaten her safety in a country where we might say that she is an international guest?"

"She disappeared this evening, and the driver of her taxi is missing also."

"Then I can understand your anxiety, but I can assure you that she has not eloped with me. It is not a matter in which I could assist you at all."

"But I think you could. Superintendent Allenby is of the same opinion."

"I cannot imagine how. And I think you will be wasting your time, as you are certainly wasting mine. But I will hear what you have to say."

"Then it is soon said. The French waiter, Gustav, took a valise to Miss Thurlow, which he asked her to get through the Customs with her father's luggage. He said it was mine, and that the request was a message from me, which was a lie. He gave her a label to put on it, so that on its arrival in England it could be forwarded, as he said, to me. The label was addressed to Mrs. Collinson's house, of which I knew nothing. By a very natural error, it was put on the wrong case. When the mistake was discovered, after it had been delivered, Miss Thurlow took the right case to Mrs. Collinson's. She was just too late to prevent the man for whom it must have been really meant driving away with it. She followed him to correct the error. That was several hours ago, and she has not returned."

"There may be one of a dozen simple explanations of that."

"The taxi which she hired has been found on a cab rank, but the driver was not there."

"Having, perhaps, gone for a drink?"

"His absence was far too long for such an explanation."

"It is certainly a queer tale. But, if the police have it in hand, it is hard to see what more you can do."

"It was the police who suggested I should come to you."

"But why, in the name of common sense, should they do that?"

"Because they thought you would have influence with Mrs. Collinson to persuade her to give the address of the man to whom the suitcase belongs."

"You mean that she has refused this information to them?"

"I cannot say that. They may not have tried."

"I must say again that it is a queer tale. And that I have any influence with the lady must, I fear, be imagination rather than fact. But it may be a matter on which two will do better than one. If you are set upon going to see her now, I will not decline to come with you and add my persuasions to yours. But. on what you tell me, it is a matter that the police should not be leaving to us. Have you a car waiting? Then we will go in. that. It will be slightly more expeditious than ordering mine. If you will excuse me for a moment, I will be with you."

"May I use your 'phone?"

"By all means. The police should know what we are proposing to do."

Waving his hand to the instrument, the Professor left the room. He was back almost immediately, having put on his hat and coat, and given some brief instructions to his butler, which would result in further devious telephone communications after they had left the house.

Meanwhile, Kindell had telephoned to Superintendent Allenby, and learned that there was still no news of Irene or her driver. He said that he had explained the position frankly to Professor Blinkwell, who would go with him to Mrs. Collinson's He would not say more, fearing that he might be overheard But he would have liked to add that his frankness had had one important omission. He had intended to lead the Professor to hope, perhaps to believe, that the nature of the contents of the valise was not known - perhaps was not even suspected - by the police, and that there had been a genuine error in regard to its labelling. Had he been successful in that? It was hard to guess.