the approach of the car; or (b) he heard her call for help.  In fact, it almost immediately became evident to me that someone else had met her at the end of the lane; probably someone who expected her, and whom she was going to meet when she, accidentally, encountered Vane!  The captain was not attired for an elopement, and, more significant still, he said he should stroll to the Deep Wood, and that was where he did stroll to; for it borders the road at this point!

“I had privately ascertained, from the postman, that Molly Clayton actually received a letter on that morning!  This resolved my last doubt.  She was not going to meet Vane on the night of her disappearance.

“Then whom?”

“The old love!  He who some months earlier had had over fifty seductive pictures of this undoubtedly pretty girl prepared for a purpose of his own!”

“Vane interfered?”

“When the girl saw that they meant to take her away, she no doubt made a fuss!  He ran to the rescue!  They had not reckoned on his being there, but these are clever villains, who leave no clues—­ except for one who has met them on their own ground!”

“On their own ground!  What do you mean, Harley?  Who are these people?”

“Well—­where do you suppose those fifty photographs went?”

“I cannot conjecture!”

“Then I will tell you.  The turmoil in the East has put wealth and power into unscrupulous hands.  But even before the war there were marts, Knox—­open marts—­at which a Negro girl might be purchased for some 30 pounds, and a Circassian for anything from 250 pounds to 500 pounds!  Ah!  You stare!  But I assure you it was so.  Here is the point, though:  there were, and still are, private dealers!  Those photographs were circulated among the nouveaux riches of the East!  They were employed in the same way that any other merchant employs a catalogue.  They reached the hands of many an opulent and abandoned ‘profiteer’ of Damascus, Stambul—­where you will.  Molly’s picture would be one of many.  Remember that hundreds of pretty girls disappear from their homes—­taking the whole of the world—­every year.  Clearly, English beauty is popular at the moment!  And,” he added bitterly, “the arch-villain has escaped!”

“Ali of Cairo!” I cried.   “Then Ali of Cairo------”

“Is the biggest slave-dealer in the East!”

“Good God!  Harley—­at last I understand!”

“I was slow enough to understand it myself, Knox.  But once the theory presented itself I asked Wessex to get into immediate touch with the valet he had already interviewed at Deepbrow.  It was the result of his inquiry to which he referred when we met him at Scotland Yard to-night.  Captain Vane had a large mole on his shoulder and a girl’s name, together with a small device, tattooed on his forearm--a freak of his Sandhurst days------”

“Then ’the man with the shaven skull’------”

“Is Captain Ronald Vane!  May he rest in peace.  But I never shall until the crook-back dealer in humanity has met his just deserts.”