“It won’t be to the end of the world, anyway,” the Inspector remarked, as he lit his cigar.  “I am going to propose a little excursion down Gayson Avenue way.”

“Back to that house?” Lenora exclaimed, with a grimace.

The Inspector nodded.

“We have had those boys at the station,” he went on, “and we have questioned them carefully.  It seems that after they had picked up the ball, a man came out of the side entrance of the house, saw them reading Miss Lenora’s message, and shouted after them.  The boys had sense enough to scoot.  The man ran after them, but had to give it up.  Here is their description of him.”

The Inspector took a piece of paper from his pocket.  They all waited breathlessly.

“Had to drag this out of the boys, bit by bit,” the Inspector proceeded, “but boiled down and put into reasonable language, this is what it comes to.  The man was of medium height, rather thin, pale, and dressed in black clothes.  He had what they call anxious eyes, and after running a short distance he put his hand to his heart, as though out of breath.  One of the boys thought his nose was a little hooked, and they both remarked upon the fact that although he shouted after them, he used no swear words, but simply tried to induce them to stop.  This description suggest anything to you, gentlemen?”

“Craig,” Lenora said firmly.

“It is a very accurate description of Craig,” Sanford Quest agreed.

The Professor looked troubled, also a little perplexed.  He said nothing, however.

“Under these circumstances,” the Inspector continued, “I have had the house watched, and I propose that we now search it systematically.  It is very possible that something may transpire to help us.  Of course, my men went through it roughly when we brought Miss Lenora away, but that wasn’t anything of a search to count, if the place really has become a haunt of criminals.”

“What about the ownership of the house?” Quest asked, as he took up his hat.

The Inspector nodded approvingly.

“I am making a few enquiries in that direction,” he announced.  “I expect to have something to report very shortly.”

The Professor stood drawing on his gloves.  The vague look of trouble still lingered in his face.

“Tell me again,” he begged, “the name of the avenue in which this residence is situated?”

“Gayson Avenue,” the inspector replied.  “It’s a bit out of the way, but it’s not a bad neighbourhood.”

The Professor repeated the address to himself softly.  For a moment he stood quite still.  His manner showed signs of growing anxiety.  He seemed to be trying to remember something.

“The name,” he admitted finally, as they moved towards the door, “suggests to me, I must confess—­We are going to see the house, Inspector?”

“We are on our way there now, sir—­that is, if the young ladies are willing?” he added, glancing at Laura.