“What on earth does all this mean?” exclaimed Breton. “What is it, Spargo?”
“I mean exactly what I told you,” answered Spargo. “He’s off! Off!”
“Off! But why off? What—my guardian!—as quiet an old gentleman as there is in the Temple—off!” cried Breton. “For what reason, eh? It isn’t—good God, Spargo, it isn’t because of anything you said to him last night!”
“I should say it is precisely because of something that I said to him last night,” replied Spargo. “I was a fool ever to let him out of my sight.”
Breton turned on his companion and gasped.
“Out—of—your—sight!” he exclaimed. “Why—why—you don’t mean to say that Mr. Elphick has anything to do with this Marbury affair? For God’s sake, Spargo—”
Spargo laid a hand on the young barrister’s shoulder.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to hear a good deal, Breton,” he said. “I was going to talk to you today in any case. You see—”
Before Spargo could say more a woman, bearing the implements which denote the charwoman’s profession, entered the room and immediately cried out at what she saw. Breton turned on her almost savagely.
“Here, you!” he said. “Have you seen anything of Mr. Elphick this morning?”
The charwoman rolled her eyes and lifted her hands.
“Me, sir! Not a sign of him, sir. Which I never comes here much before half-past eleven, sir, Mr. Elphick being then gone out to his breakfast. I see him yesterday morning, sir, which he was then in his usual state of good health, sir, if anything’s the matter with him now. No, sir, I ain’t seen nothing of him.”
Breton let out another exclamation of impatience.
“You’d better leave all this,” he said. “Mr. Elphick’s evidently gone away in a hurry, and you mustn’t touch anything here until he comes back. I’m going to lock up the chambers: if you’ve a key of them give it to me.”
The charwoman handed over a key, gave another astonished look at the rooms, and vanished, muttering, and Breton turned to Spargo.
“What do you say?” he demanded. “I must hear—a good deal! Out with it, then, man, for Heaven’s sake.”
But Spargo shook his head.
“Not now, Breton,” he answered. “Presently, I tell you, for Miss Aylmore’s sake, and your own, the first thing to do is to get on your guardian’s track. We must—must, I say!—and at once.”
Breton stood staring at Spargo for a moment as if he could not credit his own senses. Then he suddenly motioned Spargo out of the room.
“Come on!” he said. “I know who’ll know where he is, if anybody does.”
“Who, then?” asked Spargo, as they hurried out.
“Cardlestone,” answered Breton, grimly. “Cardlestone!”
XXX
Revelation
There was as much bright sunshine that morning in Middle Temple Lane as ever manages to get into it, and some of it was shining in the entry into which Spargo and Breton presently hurried. Full of haste as he was Breton paused at the foot of the stair. He looked down at the floor and at the wall at its side.
“Wasn’t it there?” he said in a low voice, pointing at the place he looked at. “Wasn’t it there, Spargo, just there, that Marbury, or, rather, Maitland, was found?”
“It was just there,” answered Spargo.
“You saw him?”
“I saw him.”
“Soon—afterwards?”
“Immediately after he was found. You know all that, Breton. Why do you ask now?”
Breton, who was still staring at the place on which he had fixed his eyes on walking into the entry, shook his head.
“Don’t know,” he answered. “I—but come on—let’s see if old Cardlestone can tell us anything.”
There was another charwoman, armed with pails and buckets, outside Cardlestone’s door, into which she was just fitting a key. It was evident to Spargo that she knew Breton, for she smiled at him as she opened the door.
“I don’t think Mr. Cardlestone’ll be in, sir,” she said. “He’s generally gone out to breakfast at this time—him and Mr. Elphick goes together.”
“Just see,” said Breton. “I want to see him if he is in.” The charwoman entered the chambers and immediately screamed.
“Quite so,” remarked Spargo. “That’s what I expected to hear. Cardlestone, you see, Breton, is also—off!”
Breton made no reply. He rushed after the charwoman, with Spargo in close attendance.
“Good God—another!” groaned Breton.
If the confusion in Elphick’s rooms had been bad, that in Cardlestone’s chambers was worse. Here again all the features of the previous scene were repeated—drawers had been torn open, papers thrown about; the hearth was choked with light ashes; everything was at sixes and sevens. An open door leading into an inner room showed that Cardlestone, like Elphick, had hastily packed a bag; like Elphick had changed his clothes, and had thrown his discarded garments anywhere, into any corner. Spargo began to realize what had taken place—Elphick, having made his own preparations for flight, had come to Cardlestone, and had expedited him, and they had fled together. But—why?
The charwoman sat down in the nearest chair and began to moan and sob; Breton strode forward, across the heaps of papers and miscellaneous objects tossed aside in that hurried search and clearing up, into the inner room. And Spargo, looking about him, suddenly caught sight of something lying on the floor at which he made a sharp clutch. He had just secured it and hurried it into his pocket when Breton came back.
“I don’t know what all this means, Spargo,” he said, almost wearily. “I suppose you do. Look here,” he went on, turning to the charwoman, “stop that row—that’ll do no good, you know. I suppose Mr. Cardlestone’s gone away in a hurry. You’d better—what had she better do, Spargo?”
“Leave things exactly as they are, lock up the chambers, and as you’re a friend of Mr. Cardlestone’s give you the key,” answered Spargo, with a significant glance. “Do that, now, and let’s go—I’ve something to do.”
Once outside, with the startled charwoman gone away, Spargo turned to Breton.
“I’ll tell you all I know, presently, Breton,”
