The constable went away, and Polke, after rubbing one of his mutton-chop whiskers for awhile with an air of great abstraction, returned to the study. There Mr. Pellworthy and Betty Fosdyke were talking earnestly in one of the window recesses; Starmidge, at the furthest end of the room, was examining the old oak panelling.
"I've sent for Mr. Batterley to give us a hand," said Polke. "I suppose we'd best examine this room in the way he suggested?"
Starmidge betrayed no enthusiasm.
"If he can do any good," he answered. "But I don't attach much importance to that. However—if there are any secret places around——"
"There's a nice cup of tea coming in for you and Mr. Pellworthy in a minute, Miss Fosdyke," said Polke. "We'll all have to put our dinner off a bit, I reckon." He motioned to the detective to follow him out of the room. "Here's a nice go!" he whispered. "The housekeeper's off! Bolted—without a doubt! And—she's got a clear start, too."
Starmidge turned sharply on the superintendent.
"Got any clue to where she's gone?" he demanded.
"She's gone amongst five hundred thousand other men and women," replied Polke ruefully. "I've found out that much. Drove off in a taxi-cab to Ecclesborough, as soon as Miss Fosdyke had been here this morning. And—mark you!—after a few minutes' conversation with Joseph Chestermarke. Ecclesborough, indeed! Might as well look for a drop of water in the ocean as for one woman in Ecclesborough! She was set down at the Exchange Station—why, she may be half-way to London or Liverpool, or Hull, by now!"
Starmidge was listening intently. And passing over the superintendent's opinions and regrets, he fastened on his facts.
"After a few minutes' conversation with Joseph Chestermarke, you say?" he observed. "How do you know that?"