Early in the morning he was again at the Towers, and now, with the assistance of daylight, he enlarged his search, without adding greatly to his knowledge. The position was a peculiar one, as Scotland Yard had emphasized. Sir Gregory Penne was a member of a good family, a rich man, a justice of the peace; and, whilst his eccentricities were of a lawless character, “you can’t hang people for being queer,” the Commissioner informed Michael on the telephone.
It was a suspicious fact that Bhag had disappeared as completely as the brown man and his wife.
“He hasn’t been back all night: I’ve seen nothing of him,” said Sir Gregory. “And that’s not the first time he’s gone off on his own. He finds hiding-places that you’d never suspect, and he’s probably gone to earth somewhere. He’ll turn up.”
Michael was passing through Chichester when he saw a figure that made him bring the car to a standstill with such a jerk that it was a wonder the tyres did not burst. In a second he was out of the machine and walking to meet Adele.
“It seems ten thousand years since I saw you,” he said with an extravagance which at any other time would have brought a smile to her face.
“I’m afraid I can’t stop. I’m on my way to the studio,” she said, a little coldly, “and I promised Mr. Knebworth that I would be there early. You see, I got off yesterday afternoon by telling Mr. Knebworth that I had an engagement.”
“And had you?” asked the innocent Michael.
“I asked somebody to take tea with me,” and his jaw dropped.
“Moses!” he gasped. “I am the villain!”
She would have gone on, but he stopped her.