"I'm not talking about you. Could you manage another run to town? Are you too tired?"
The mystified Tom looked at his employer. Dr. Stern laughed.
"Go right ahead!" he cried. "I'm thinking of buying a new car. A hundred and twenty miles in one night should settle the matter so far as this old rattletrap is concerned."
"Of course we'll pay you, doctor," said Winter.
"That's more than Hilton Fenley will ever do, I'm afraid."
Tom tickled his scalp under his cap.
"Mr. Hilton gemme a fiver," he said rather sheepishly. There was something going on that he did not understand, but he thought it advisable to own up with regard to that lordly tip.
"You're a lucky fellow," said the doctor. "What about petrol? And do you feel able to take these gentlemen to London?"
Tom was a wiry person. In five minutes he was on the road again bound for Scotland Yard this time. As a matter of form a detective was sent to Gloucester Mansions, and came back with the not unforeseen news that Mrs. Garth was very angry at being disturbed at such an unearthly hour. No; she had seen nothing of Mr. Hilton Fenley since the preceding afternoon. Some one had rung the bell about two o'clock that morning, but the summons was not repeated; and she had not inquired into it, thinking that a mistake had been made and discovered by the blunderer.