Paul Quentin by Fred M. White — Read

Nothing further was to be seen or heard, for the two men turned silently and plodded along the road, and Dugdale had nothing to gain by following them. Therefore he retraced his footsteps to Silverdale. The house was entirely as he had left it. He barred the front door and went back to the library to ponder the matter over a cigar. Suddenly a thought came to him that caused him to jump to his feet and hurry up the stairs towards the strong-room, where the pseudo-Prince had been confined.

He had forgotten all about the lunatic. He wondered now why the police had not arrived. The real Dr Prince had promised to communicate with the authorities, and that he had not already done so was a matter of surprise. In all probability there had been no accident to Dr Harper. Possibly it had been part of some conspiracy; probably several accomplices were at work in this business. Paul Quentin seemed to be at the bottom of the whole affair, aided and abetted by his secretary Grenadus; indeed, the more Dugdale thought over this affair the more dangerous did it seem. He hurried up the stairs and found the key outside the door. Taking his courage in his hands he entered and struck a light. He was not in the least surprised to find the room empty and the window wide open.