"Right, sir! Do you know how many of these old workings there is?" asked Creasy. "There's between fifty and sixty within a square mile of this tower. Some's fenced in—most isn't. Some of their mouths are grown over with bramble and bracken. And all of 'em are of tremendous depth. A man could be thrown down one of those mines, sir, and it 'ud be a long job finding his body! But all that's very frightening to the lady, and we'll hope nothing of it happened. Still——"
"It has to be faced," said Betty. "Listen—I am Mr. Horbury's niece, and I'm offering a reward for news of him. Will you keep your eyes and ears open while you're in this neighbourhood?"
The tinker promised that he would do his best, and presently he went back to his fire, while Neale and Betty turned away towards the town. Neither spoke until they were half-way through the wood; then Betty uttered her fears in a question.
"Do you think the finding of that pipe shows he was—there?" she asked.
"I'm sure of it," replied Neale. "I wish I wasn't. But—I saw him with this pipe in his lips at two o'clock on Saturday! I recognized it at once."
"Let's hurry on and see the police," said Betty. "We know something now, at any rate."
Polke, they were told at the police-station, was in his private house close by: a polite constable conducted them thither. And presently they were shown into the superintendent's dining-room, where Polke, hospitably intent, was mixing a drink for a stranger. The stranger, evidently just in from a journey, rose and bowed, and Polke waved his hand at him with a smile, as he looked at the two young people.
"Here's your man, miss!" said Polke cheerily. "Allow me—Detective-Sergeant Starmidge, of the Criminal Investigation Department."