You give your attention to your packing, Miss Lennard, and leave the rest to me--you won't mind travelling the night ?" Celia shook her head.
"I don't mind travelling all night for half a dozen nights if I can track my lost property," she said lugubriously.

"You're dead sure it's no use stopping here ?--that the robbery didn't take place here ?" "Sure!" answered Fullaway.

"We must get off.

That French damsel's got to be found--somehow." The supper-party came to an end--the prima donna and her temporary maid began to bustle with garments and trunks, the two men attended to all other necessary matters, and at two o'clock in the morning the three sped out of Edinburgh for the South, each secretly wondering what was going to come of their journey.

Allerdyke, preparing to go to sleep in the compartment which he and Fullaway occupied by themselves, dropped one grim remark to his companion as he settled himself.
"Seems like a wild-goose chase this, my lad, but it's one we've got to go through with! What'll the next stage be ?" The next stage was an arrival in London in the middle of a lovely May morning, a swift drive to Celia Lennard's flat in Bedford Court Mansions, the hurried rummaging of its owner amongst an extraordinary mass of papers, books, and documents, and the ultimate discovery of the French maid's address.