"Their house—so Mrs. Carswell says," remarked Betty.
"Oh, well—it may be their house, strictly speaking," agreed the Earl, "but Horbury was its tenant, anyway, and the furniture and things in it are his—I'm sure of that, for he and I shared a similar taste in collecting old oak, and I know where he bought most of his possessions. I can't make the behaviour of these people out at all—and I'm getting more and more uneasy about the whole thing, Miss Fosdyke—as I'm sure you are. sure you are. I wonder if the police will find the man who came to the Station Hotel on Saturday? Now, if they could lay hands on him, and get to know who he was, and what he wanted, and if he really met your uncle———"
The Earl suddenly paused and turned from the window with a glance at Betty.
"There's young Mr. Neale coming across from the bank," he observed. "I think he's coming here. By the by, isn't he a relation of Horbury's."
"No," said Betty. "But my uncle was his guardian. Is he coming here, Lord Ellersdeane?"
"Straight here," replied the Earl. "Perhaps he's got some news."
Betty had the door open before Neale could knock at it. He came in with a smile, and glanced half-whimsically, half as if he had queer news to give, at the two people who looked so inquiringly at him.
"Well?" demanded Betty. "What is it, Wallie? Have these two precious principals sent you with news?"
"They're not my principals any longer," answered
