With a bitter laugh Leo set down the candle on the table. "What," he said, "are you the man with the bow-string, Raston? Scarcely worthy of your cloth! If you wanted to arrest me, you might have waited until morning!"
"Who is this young gentleman?" asked Marton, suddenly.
"I am Leo Haverleigh, Mr Detective," replied the young man, sharply; "and I suppose you have come here at the instance of Mr Tempest to arrest me!"
Marton snatched up the candle, and held it close to Leo's face. He was apparently quite satisfied, for he spoke in a more friendly tone.
"You need not be afraid, Mr Haverleigh," he said soothingly. "I have not come to arrest you—but to investigate the case. I don't think there is any chance of your being arrested. Your face is enough for me. But this is all very well," he added impatiently; "I want Pratt!"
"I will go and wake him," said Leo, who could make neither top nor tail of all this, but who was relieved to find that he was not in danger of arrest. He retired from the room, while Marton darted about here there, and everywhere. He was like a bloodhound nosing a trail. Suddenly he stopped before a cabinet, a drawer of which was open.
"Too late!" said Marton in a tone of disgust. "He's bolted."
"How could he bolt in this fog?" asked Raston, dubiously.
"Oh, he'll find his way somehow. Tony Angel is the cleverest of men for getting out of a difficulty. He has evaded the police for years. See, my dear chap, this drawer is open. That means he has taken money or valuables from it, and is now on his way to Heaven knows what hiding-place.
"Can you be sure of that? The open drawer may be an accident. Besides, he would not think you would act so promptly."