“Surely,” the Professor suggested, “your innocence will very soon be established?”

“There is one thing which will happen, without a doubt,” Quest replied.  “My auto and the chauffeur will be discovered.  I have insisted upon enquiries being sent out throughout the State of Connecticut.  They tell me, too, that the police are hard on the scent of Red Gallagher and the other man.  Unless they get wind of this and sell me purposely, their arrest will be the end of my troubles.  To tell you the truth, Professor,” Quest concluded, “it is not of myself I am thinking at all just now.  It is Lenora.”

The Professor nodded sympathetically.

“The young lady who shut Craig up in the garage, you mean?  A plucky young woman she must be.”

“She has a great many other good qualities besides courage,” Quest declared.  “Women have not counted for much with me, Professor, up till now, any more than they have done, I should think, with you, but I tell you frankly, if any one has hurt a hair of that girl’s head I will have their lives, whatever the penalty may be!  It is for her sake—­to find her—­that I broke out of prison and that I am trying to keep free.  The wisest thing to do, from my own point of view, would be to give myself up.  I can’t bring myself to do that without knowing what has become of her.”

The Professor nodded again.

“A charming and well-bred young woman she seems,” he admitted.  “I fear that I should only be a bungler in your profession, Mr. Quest, but if there is anything I can do to help you to discover her whereabouts, you can count upon me.  Personally, I am convinced that Craig will return to me with some plausible explanation as to what has happened.  In that case he will doubtless bring news of the young lady.”

Quest, for the third or fourth time, moved cautiously towards the window.  His expression suddenly changed.  He glanced downwards, frowning slightly.  An alert light flashed into his eyes.

“They’re after me!” he exclaimed.  “Sit still, Professor.”

He darted into his room and reappeared again almost immediately.  The Professor gave a gasp of astonishment at his altered appearance.  His tweed suit seemed to have been turned inside out.  There were no lapels now and it was buttoned up to his neck.  He wore a long white apron; a peaked cap and a chin-piece of astonishing naturalness had transformed him into the semblance of a Dutch grocer’s boy.

“I’m off, Professor,” Quest whispered.  “You shall hear from me soon.  I have not been here, remember!”

He ran lightly down the steps and into the kitchen, picked up a basket, filled it haphazard with vegetables and threw a cloth over the top.  Then he made his way to the front door, peered out for a moment, swung through it on to the step, and, turning round, commenced to belabour it with his fist.  Two plain-clothes men stood at the end of the street.  A police automobile drew up outside the gate.  Inspector French, attended by a policeman, stepped out.  The former looked searchingly at Quest.