The Hunt Ball Mystery. Sir William Magnay

      "Please wire me without fail directly Mr. Henshaw returns. Gervase

       Henshaw, 8, Stone Court, Temple, London," Kelson read.

      "That's his brother," Gifford observed.

      "All right," said Kelson. "Let him worry if he likes. All you have to do,

       Mr. Dipper, is what he asks you there."

      He went upstairs with Gifford, leaving the landlord reperusing the telegram, his plump face dark with misgiving.

CHAPTER V

       Table of Contents

      THE LOCKED ROOM

      That night the missing man did not return, nor was anything heard of him. The morning brought no news, and even Kelson began to think there might be something serious in it.

      "If it was anybody but that man," he said casually over a hearty breakfast, "I should say it would be worth while taking steps to find out what had become of him. But that fellow can take care of himself; and when you come to think of it, his coming down here, an outsider, to the ball, was in itself rather fishy."

      Gifford agreed, and they fell to discussing the day's plans. Kelson was going to drive over to have the momentous interview with Miss Tredworth's father. He anticipated no difficulty there; still, as he said, "The thing has got to be done, and the sooner it is over the better."

      "Why not go to-morrow?" Gifford suggested. "There will be rather a rush to-day."

      Kelson, a man of action, scoffed at the idea. "Oh, no; Muriel and Charlie are coming over to Wynford to luncheon. I shall simply get the thing settled and drive back with them."

      So it was arranged. Gifford spent the morning in a stroll about the familiar neighbourhood, and when luncheon time came they all met at Wynford Place. Miss Morriston was not present. Her brother apologized for her absence, saying she had been obliged to keep an engagement to lunch with a friend, but that she had promised to return quite early in the afternoon. Mr. Piercy, the antiquarian, proved to be by no means as dry as his pursuit suggested. He was a lively little man with a fund of interesting stories furnished by the lighter side of his work, and altogether the luncheon was quite amusing.

      When it was over Morriston suggested that, not to waste the daylight, they should begin their tour of the house; he called upon Gifford to share the duties of guidance, and the party moved off.

      "Hope you haven't been bored all the morning, Hugh," Kelson said to his friend as they found themselves side by side. "Any news at the Lion? Has Henshaw turned up yet?"

      Gifford shook his head. "No. Host Dipper has had another telegram of inquiry from the brother, but had nothing to tell him in return."

      Kelson's face became grave. "It really does begin to look serious," he remarked.

      "Yes; Dipper has been interviewing the police on the subject."

      "Has he? Well, I only hope Henshaw has not been playing the fool, or worse, and caused all this fuss for nothing."

      The party moved on to the great hall where the dancing had taken place, and so to the passage connecting the main building with the ancient tower.

      "Now this is the part which will no doubt interest you most, Mr. Piercy," Morriston said; "this fourteenth century tower, which is to-day in a really wonderful state of preservation."

      "Ah, yes," the archaeologist murmured; "they could build in those days."

      They examined the two lower rooms on the ground and first floors, remarked on the thickness of the walls, shown by the depth of the window embrasures, which in older days had been put to sterner purposes; they admired the solid strength of the ties and hammer-beams in the roofs, and scrutinized the few articles of ancient furniture and tapestry the rooms contained, and the massive oaken iron-bound door which admitted to the garden.

      "Now we will go up to the top room," Morriston proposed. "It is used only for lumber, but there is quite a good view from it."

      He preceded the rest of the party up the winding stairs to the topmost door.

      "Hullo!" he exclaimed, pushing at it, "the door is locked. And the key appears to have been taken away," he added, bending down and feeling about in the imperfect light.

      The whole party was consequently held up on the narrow stairs. "I'll go and ask what has become of the key," Morriston said, making his way past them.

      In a minute he returned, presently followed by the butler.

      "How is it that this top door is locked, Stent?" he asked. "And where is the key?"

      "I don't know, sir. Alfred mentioned this morning that the door was locked and the key taken away; we thought you must have locked it, sir."

      "I? No, I've not been up here since the morning of the ball, when I had those old things brought up from the lower room to be out of the way."

      "Did you lock the door then, sir?"

      "No. Why should I? I am certain I did not. Perhaps one of the men did.

       Just go and inquire. And have the key looked for."

      "Very good, sir."

      "This is rather provoking," Morriston said, as they waited. "I particularly wanted to show you the view, which should be lovely on a clear day like this. If we have to wait much longer the light will be going. Besides, it is quite a quaint old room with a curious recess formed by the bartizan you may have noticed from outside."

      Presently the butler returned accompanied by a footman with several keys.

      "We can't find the right key, sir," he announced. "No one seems to have seen it. Alfred has brought a few like it, thinking one might possibly fit."

      None of them, however, would go into the lock, not even the smallest of them.

      "I can't make it out, sir," said the man, kneeling to get more effectively to work. But no key would enter. The footman at last took a box of matches from his pocket, struck a light and, holding it to the key-hole, peered in.

      "Why, the key is in the lock, on the other side, sir," he said in astonishment.

      "Then the door can't be locked," Morriston said, pushing it.

      The footman rose and pushed too, but the door showed no sign of yielding; it was fastened sure enough.

      "This is strange," Morriston said. "Hi! Is any one in there?" he shouted; but no response came.

      "Are you sure the key is in the door on the inside?" he asked.

      "Certain, sir. Will you look for yourself, sir?" the man replied, striking another match and holding it so that his master could convince himself.

      "No doubt about that," Morriston declared, as he rose from his scrutiny. "It is the most extraordinary thing I have ever known. Can you account for it, Stent?"

      The butler shook his head. "No, sir. Unless someone is in there now."

      Morriston again shouted, but no answer came.

      "I presume there is no way out of the room but this door," Piercy asked.

      "None," Morriston answered; "except the window, and that is, I should say, quite eighty feet from the ground; eh, Mr. Gifford?"

      "A sheer drop of quite that distance," he answered.

      "A prohibitive mode of exit," Piercy observed with a smile.

      "Yes," Morriston said. "I can't understand it at all. Besides, who would be likely to want to play tricks here? We have had no sign of burglars, and in any case they would hardly have been able to bring a ladder long enough to reach up to that window. Well, we must