Mr. Harley is. But I have information which, if I knew where he was, would quite possibly enable me to rescue him."
"Provided he is alive!" added Wessex, angrily.
"What leads you to suppose that he is not?"
"If he is alive, he is a prisoner."
"Good God!" said Nicol Brinn in a low voice. "It has come." He took a step toward the detective. "Mr. Wessex," he continued, "I don't tell you to do whatever your duty indicates; I know you will do it. But in the interests of everybody concerned I have a request to make. Have me watched if you like—I suppose that's automatic. But whatever happens, and wherever your suspicions point, give me twenty-four hours. As I think you can see, I am a man who thinks slowly, but moves with a rush. You can believe me or not, but I am even more anxious than you are to see this thing through. You think I know what lies back of it all, and I don't say that you are not right. But one thing you don't know, and that thing I can't tell you. In twenty-four hours I might be able to tell you. Whatever happens, even if poor Harley is found dead, don't hamper my movements between now and this time to-morrow."
Wessex, who had been watching the speaker intently, suddenly held out his hand. "It's a bet!" he said. "It's my case, and I'll conduct it in my own way."
