The House on the River by Fred M. White

There was no questioning the fact that Kent had vanished, leaving no sign behind, him. Nor did Quint think that he had been shamming all this time. His senses had probably come back to him whilst his jailers had been out on that unfortunate walk, and seeing that Kent was now quite physically fit, he had evidently gone off as soon as he could get his clothes on. He might or might not have gone over the house first with a view to ascertaining his whereabouts, but as to that it was impossible to say. Moreover a five pound note was missing from Geere's desk in the dining room, and beyond question Kent had helped himself to this. It was a most unfortunate situation, and one for which Quint blamed himself bitterly. There was no help for it now. No doubt Kent had gone off to his humble hiding place, somewhere in the East End, and from there would direct his campaign against Enderby and Claw with a view to forcing good terms from them. But where had he gone and how could they find him?

It was apparently a hopeless task, and from it Quint turned a little later in the expectation that he might derive some consolation from Ennie's letter. He read it over two or three times before he turned to Somerset, who was seated moodily smoking on the other side of the fireplace.