“Take my advice and leave it to me,” Francis begged. “I have a particular pal down at Scotland Yard who I know will be interested, and I want him to take up the case.”
“You haven't any theory, I suppose?” Wilmore asked, a little wistfully.
Francis shook his head.
“Not the ghost of one,” he admitted. “The reason I am advising you to keep as quiet as possible, though, is just this. If you create a lot of interest in a disappearance, you have to satisfy the public curiosity when the mystery is solved.”
“I see,” Wilmore murmured. “All the same, I can't imagine Reggie getting mixed up in anything discreditable.”
“Neither can I, from what I remember of the boy,” Francis agreed. “Let me see, what was he doing in the City?”
“He was with Jameson & Scott, the stockbrokers,” Wilmore replied. “He was only learning the business and he had no responsibilities. Curiously enough, though, when I went to see Mr. Jameson he pointed out one or two little matters that Reggie had attended to, which looked as though he were clearing up, somehow or other.”
“He left no message there, I suppose?”
“Not a line or a word. He gave the porter five shillings, though, on the afternoon before he disappeared—a man who has done some odd jobs for him.”
“Well, a voluntary disappearance is better than an involuntary one,” Francis remarked. “What was his usual programme when he left the office?”