“Into Norfolk somewhere, sir. He went with several other gentlemen.”
“Is that Bullen?” Hamel asked.
The man admitted the fact.
“Can you tell me if any of the people with whom Mr. Kinsley left London were connected with the police?” he inquired.
The man hesitated.
“I believe so, sir,” he admitted. “The gentlemen started in a motor-car and were going to drive all night.”
Hamel laid down the receiver. At any rate, he would not be left long with this responsibility upon him. He walked out into the hall. The house was still wrapped in deep silence. Then, from somewhere above him, coming down the stairs, he heard the rustle of a woman’s gown. He looked up, and saw Miss Price, fully dressed, coming slowly towards him. She held up her finger and led the way back into the library. She was dressed as neatly as ever, but there was a queer light in her eyes.
“I have seen Mrs. Seymour Fentolin,” she said. “She tells me that you have left Mr. Fentolin and the others in the subterranean room of the Tower.”
Hamel nodded.
“They have Dunster down there,” he told her. “I followed them in; it seemed the best thing to do. I have a friend from London who is on his way down here now with some detective officers, to enquire into the matter of Dunster’s disappearance.”