“I am pleased to meet you,” he said, “Brown told me you were working down here, and of course I was informed by the Yard that you were coming. How are you getting on?”
“It is difficult to say at present, I have a mass of information that must be sorted out, for it seems to be a complicated affair; but you wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I suppose you have heard of the disappearance of the bank manager, Summers, of Tunbridge Wells?”
“Just what I have read, that’s all, he was last seen at Portham Junction, wasn’t he?”
“That is as far as the official report goes, but I have further information.” Andrews took the other by the arm, and glanced round to see that no one was listening.
“He has been seen here in Bungalow Town,” he added.
Fletcher gave a start. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“There is no doubt of it; there is a bungalow called The Red Cote which has somehow got a sinister reputation in the village—I do not know why—and we have been keeping our eye on it for some days. It is apparently unoccupied, but every night the rooms are lighted up. I had a special man to watch it, as in a place like this with so many empty bungalows in the winter, there is a great chance for burglars. For three nights running two men have been seen lurking round the place, and my man swears one of them is the missing bank manager.”
“And the other?”
“Ah, that is more difficult to say, and if we knew that we might find out a lot of things. The nights were dark, and they evidently tried to avoid observation, but we have our suspicions. Now for the past three days no trace has been seen of Summers, and the other man has been seen alone, so it looks bad.”