The iron-fingered hand of time struck a quarter past four on the Somerset House clock, and still Charley Tudor lingered at his office.

The maid who came to sweep the room was thoroughly amazed, and knew that something must be wrong.
Just as he was about to move, Mr.Oldeschole came bustling into the room.

'Where is Corkscrew ?' said he.

'Gone,' said Charley.
'And Scatterall ?' asked Oldeschole.

'Gone, sir,' said Charley.
'And Mr.Snape ?' said the Secretary.