“Did you know,” I asked, “that your brother was going on a long leave. It is rather a wonder that Thoyne’s letter ever reached him, but evidently it did. The fact that he had obtained leave before the receipt of that letter suggests some contemplated purpose—the visit to Midlington was only a break in the journey.”
“Yes,” Thoyne said, “we have thought all that out. But why hasn’t he come back when—it is unbelievable that he should have seen nothing—no account of the—”
“Unlikely, but not impossible,” I observed. “He may have met with an accident, for example.”
“We should have heard of it,” Thoyne said, shaking his head.
“Well, anyway,” I returned, as cheerfully as I could, “suppose we accord him the right every Briton has under the law, of being regarded as innocent until he is proved guilty. Is he, by the way, interested, do you know, in any—lady?”
“In about a hundred, I should think,” Thoyne returned.
“Yes, I dare say he would be. At his age one is. But I mean any special lady?”
But they could give me no help in that.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS
The first thing I had to settle was as regards the entrance to White Towers of which Kitty Clevedon had spoken. We had to pick up Billy Clevedon’s tracks after he left Midlington, and if he really had gone to White Towers, it would probably be by that route. At all events there was absolutely no evidence he had been seen at any of the usual entrances. Kitty agreed to guide us, and told us to meet her the following morning at the main gates to White Towers; and she advised us also to put on some old clothes as we should have to creep part of the way on hands and knees.