He had had rooms prepared for them in the east wing, which was opposite to that in which his own room and Harry’s were situated. There were two small apartments with a connecting door, which he had assigned to Leslie and her guest. The next room had been prepared for Arthur.

“I’ve moved Puttler to this wing, too,” he explained, “though I don’t suppose the poor fellow will get very much sleep for a night or two.”

After he had shown them the rooms he took his departure, and Leslie followed him along the corridor and overtook him at the head of the stairs.

“There is really nothing I can do, I suppose, Dick?” For she had accepted the story of the disordered accounts as being a plausible excuse on his part to get her to Fossaway Manor.

To her surprise he said “Yes,” and took her below to the study.

“Here are the estate accounts. I haven’t touched them for three or four days. Do you know anything about figures?”

She nodded wisely.

“Will you start by checking these wages sheets? You’ll find the books on the shelf, and you will be able to get the hang of my rather simple system.”

He gave her instructions how to deal with the bills that had accumulated, and left her very contented. It was half an hour before she remembered that she had left Mary Wenner in her room, and hurried upstairs to apologise. She was to find Mary a very capable assistant, for not only was the girl efficient in her work, but she knew all the domestic mysteries of Fossaway Manor.

The two girls lunched alone, for Dick had sent a message to say that he would not be back in time.

“The place gives me the creeps,” said Mary with a shudder, and her nervousness was not affectation. “The whole thing is frightful! Poor Thomas killed, and Harry taken away heaven knows where – oh!” She sprang to her feet, and her face had gone pale. “I know where Harry is,” she said, quivering with excitement. “I know, I know!”

“Where?” asked the wondering Leslie.

The girl ran out of the room into the hall.

“Where is Mr Alford?” she asked quickly. “I must see him at once.”

“He telephoned from Red Farm,” said Leslie, who had followed her. “Perhaps we can get him.”

She turned the handle of the old-fashioned instrument and gave the Red Farm number.

“Is that you, Dick? How lucky!”

“I expected it was you. Is anything wrong?” he asked anxiously.

“No; Mary Wenner has something she wants to tell you.” She lowered her voice. “She thinks she knows where Harry is hidden.”

There was a silence at the other end.

“She’s not–”

“No, no, no.” With Mary within earshot, it was impossible to assure Dick that the girl was not trying to make a sensation.

“I’ll come over right away,” he said.