It was about seven o'clock. At nine o'clock there was a small dinner party. The Home Secretary was to be there.
"I wonder," Lord Hayle said, at length, "if Sir Anthony will have any news?"
"I am sure I hope so," the bishop answered. "I saw him this morning in Whitehall, and he told me that everything that could possibly be done was being done. The whole of Scotland Yard, in fact, is bending its attention to the discovery of the whereabouts of your friend."
"I wish," Lord Hayle returned grimly, "I wish we could have a Johnnie like Sherlock Holmes on John's trek. There don't seem to be any of that sort of people outside the magazines."
At that moment the door of the library opened, and the butler came in. He carried a pile of evening papers upon a tray.
"These are the latest editions, my lord," he said, bringing them up to the bishop.
The father and son took the papers and opened them hurriedly.
Huge head-lines greeted their eyes. "Where is the duke?" "Has the duke disappeared with intention?" "Last news of the missing duke." "Rumours that the Duke of Paddington has taken a berth on the Lucania under the name of John Smith." "If the duke does not return, what will this mean to the ground-rents of London?" and so forth, and so forth, and so forth.
The bishop put down the papers with a weary sigh.