Quest took a seat and smoked calmly, with his eyes fixed upon the roof.

Lenora went back to her examination of the overturned plants, the mould, and the whole ground within the immediate environs of the assault.

She abandoned the search at last, however, and came back to Quest's side.

He threw away his cigar and rose.
"Nothing there ?" he asked laconically.
"Not a thing," Lenora admitted.
Quest led the way towards the door.
"Lenora," he decided, "we are up against something big.

There's a new hand at work somewhere." "No theories yet, Mr.Quest ?" she asked, smiling.
"Not the ghost of one," he admitted gloomily.
* * * * * Along the rain-swept causeway of Mayton Avenue, keeping close to the shelter of the houses, his mackintosh turned up to his ears, his hands buried in his pockets, a man walked swiftly along.