Now that all was told, she still felt desperately anxious, but relieved. He offered her cigarettes, then laughed at himself because obviously she couldn’t smoke with any enjoyment. His naturalness won her completely.

“But you smoke, please,” she said.

“Thanks.” Rollison lit a cigarette. “Did anyone else know where your husband was going?”

“No, not a soul. There was hardly time to tell anyone. In any case, the people in the next flat are away, and we don’t know them downstairs, they’re comparatively new.”

“How new?” asked Rollison quickly.

“Well—six or seven months.”

They came before your husband returned?” “Oh yes, some time before.”

Rollison lost interest in the “new” people downstairs.

The men who telephoned to say your husband would be late must know where he is,” reasoned Rollison. “Cases of kidnapping in broad daylight are rare, it’s much more likely that someone persuaded him to go with them, and although he may not have gone willingly, he probably went of his own volition. What time did the gas-men come?”

“At ten past four exactly.”

“A gas-man and his mate are among the least noticed people in London,” remarked Rollison. “I suppose you haven’t noticed anyone loitering about the street outside in the last few days?”

“No, no one,” said Barbara, after a moment’s reflection.

“Other people may have noticed them. Have you any idea what they wanted?”

“No,” answered Barbara.

“Sure? Not even a notion?”

“Yes, I’m quite sure.” The importance of the question struck home to Barbara now. “Bob told me nothing at all until this morning, when—well, I’ve told you——” She broke off, leaning back and half-closing her eyes. “And all I know is, he’s afraid of the police and—and hopes that he’ll have nothing to worry about after Saturday.” Rollison nodded understanding, and she went on: “I can’t imagine why he should be so frightened of the police. I can’t imagine Bob committing a crime, or even thinking of it——”