It was on the day after his return to everyday life that Faunce received a message from Scotland Yard, bidding him go there immediately on important business, a summons that he made haste to obey, since many of those cases which had afforded him profitable occupation within the last few years had come to him by the recommendation of his old chiefs in the Criminal Investigation Department.
He found one of those chiefs seated in his private room, engaged in conversation with a short, stout gentleman of middle age and pleasing countenance, who looked like a soldier—fair-haired, intelligent, and fussy.
"This is Mr. Faunce, Major Towgood," said the chief.
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Faunce!" exclaimed the Major, in a breathless way, bouncing up from his chair, wanting to shake hands with Faunce, and suppressing the desire with a backward jerk; "and if Mr. Faunce," turning to the chief, "can do anything to set my poor mother-in-law's mind at rest about that scapegrace of hers, I shall be very grateful—on my wife's account, don't you know. Personally, I shouldn't be sorry to know he had gone under for good."
"Major Towgood is interested in the fate of a Colonel Rannock, his connection by marriage, who has not been heard of for some time."
"Not since last March, early in the month—sold his sticks—and started for the Yukon River," interjected Major Towgood again breathlessly, and with his eyes opened very wide.
"Colonel Rannock's disappearance—if it can be called a disappearance—has caused considerable anxiety to his widowed mother——"
"Women are such forgiving creatures, don't you know," interrupted the Major. "Talk of seventy times seven! There ain't any combination of figures that will express a mother's forgiveness of a prodigal son."
"And I have told Major Towgood," pursued the chief, with a shade of weariness, "that I can highly recommend you for an inquiry of that sort, and that if Colonel Rannock is to be found above ground—or under ground—you will find him."
"I'll do my best, sir."