“Keep your eye on the parlourmaid especially,” he whispered. “If we ever get to the bottom of it, we shall find she plays an important part in this mystery.”
“I quite agree,” was Varney’s answer, as the two men finally parted.
Chapter Eighteen.
Another Mystery.
Next day Smeaton sat in his official room, puzzling over the Monkton case, and sorely perplexed.
He had followed several trails now, but all, it seemed, to no purpose. Farloe and his sister had been shadowed without any result. The visit to Millington had ended in failure.
Varney had discovered something, and he would follow the clue with the pertinacity of a bloodhound pursuing a faint and elusive scent. But he himself was thoroughly disheartened.
There suddenly came a tap at the door, and a constable entered.